Bound by Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 1) (15 page)

Owen smiled and went back into Tour Guide Barbie mode. I drifted off to sleep a few minutes later, lulled by the sound of his deep voice and the beautiful images he painted with words.

I woke the next morning when I suddenly felt cold, as if someone had stolen my blanket. Except I never had a blanket. Owen was behind me, his back lightly pressed against mine. I resisted the urge to snuggle up to him for warmth and go back to sleep. That was a bad idea for many reasons. I pulled myself up. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's time to get back on the road." I nudged him with a boot.

He rolled over and stretched. His shirt tugged up to reveal his fully healed stomach. "Good morning, sunshine," he said without a trace of sarcasm.

Was he a morning person? Yet another strike against him.

We broke camp. Owen held out his hand and closed it in a fist to quash the embers of our fire. That was a convenient use of his magic. He then s
nagged a couple pieces of knobby red fruit from a nearby tree and handed one to me. I looked at it skeptically.

"They're good, I promise." He bit into his own and yellow juice ran down his chin. "I ate fraisa almost every day I was in Faerie as a kid. They taste like a combination between an orange and a strawberry."

He didn't immediately keel over, so I took a tentative bite. The flavor was like he said, but like everything in Faerie, it was turned up to eleven. "Yummmm," I said, summing it up perfectly.

We picked several more and ate them while we walked. They were surprisingly filling, but we had long since burned them off by the time we reached a fork in the trail. The village that had been so far off the last time we'd seen it stood right below us.

It was like a switch flipped in my brain. I knew I had to get out of there. Before I realized what was happening, I was tearing through the brambles of the woods to the right of the road. My mind raced with sheer panic. If that village was where we were going, then that's where they were going to take off the necklace. I couldn't let that happen. I'd die without it. I needed it. My legs churned faster, heedless of the scratches they received. I could hear Owen calling out behind me. It only drove my speed to new heights.

Rushing wind proceeded the gigantic shadow. The figure dropped from the sky and tore into the earth in front of me. I skidded to a halt to avoid crashing into the two tons of serpentine muscle blocking my path. Owen's dragon form was dark gray on his top side with an underside of pale, sky blue. Both colors were the perfect camouflage. While flying, he would blend in with the sky, and if he didn't move on the ground, he'd look like a big rock. He didn't look like a rock now. His muscles rippled with imposing strength. Everything about his build was made with purpose. He was magnificent.
No wonder he's such a smug bastard.
Two
beautiful bodies. Two!
Smoke curled from his nostrils—not as funny in his dragon form. I gulped. His yellow eyes blinked at me in reproach. It was hard to convey reproach with a blink, but he managed it.

I turned and ran, skirting around his tail end, and a blast of fire erupted in front of me. I barely stopped in time to keep from becoming a tasty, roasted treat. The fire engulfed the brambles, crackling loudly. I pulled Epic from my back on instinct and almost laughed at myself. I wasn't a medieval storybook character. Slaying a dragon with nothing but a sword was nearly impossible. Besides, I didn't even want to hurt Owen. I just wanted to get away. There was somewhere else in Faerie I needed to be.

The enormous dragon disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving Owen, hands held in front of him, palms out. "We don't have to go to the village," he said. "We can go wherever you want if you put away the pointy hunk of metal."

"Pointy hunk of metal?" I laughed. "What are you, four?"

He chuckled. "That's just what my dragon calls swords. He hates them."

"You talk about the dragon like it's not you," I said, putting the sword away. I hadn't intended to use it anyway.

"It's not. Not entirely. He likes to snack on live cows. I like dead ones, preferably cooked medium. He's willing to burn down a forest to make a point." Owen stretched his hand toward the fire and closed it into a fist. The flames died immediately. "I'm not." He ambled toward me, his hands still out in that I'm-not-a-threat pose. "I want to help you."

My shoulders slumped; the tension of the moment had passed and I was
drained
. "Fine. When we get back to the road, we need to take the path to the right, okay?"

"Fine. We can do that."

He stepped up beside me and we headed back toward the road. His hand came up to rest on my
shoulder. I was waging a mental war with myself about whether to shrug it off or not when his other arm shot out, tossing something in the road in front of us. My head whipped left and right, searching for the attacker he was protecting us from, when the wicked tendrils of old magic ripped through my mind.

His apology was the last thing I heard before the world faded to black.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

My hand clutched my bare neck before I was fully awake. The necklace was gone. My swords leaned against the wall by my head. I was in a small, tidy room in a bed far too short for my frame.

It was over.

Relief washed through me. I felt lighter than I had in days. Everything was okay now. Hope and happiness crept through my limbs, relaxing me. For all of about ten seconds. Then the worries crept back in. How would I ever explain this to Hammond? Would he fire me? I couldn't even afford a suspension. At least I could turn in the necklace and get paid for this job. That
could
appease my boss, and if he didn't fire me, then I could go out and get my celebratory end-of-job burger.

In order to do that, I had to get out of the stranger's bed and find Owen and the necklace. There was an old-fashioned washbasin and pitcher of water on a low table by the door. I poured some water and splashed it on my face and neck and dried off with the small towel provided.

I looked over the room, trying to get a sense for the person who lived there before I stepped out to meet them. All the finishes had a soft, feminine touch, and everything was built for a person of small stature. There was a plaque on the wall that read, "Everyone is sociable until a cow invades her garden". It had the ring of an old proverb, but I had no idea what it meant.

I strapped on my swords and exited the room, ducking to get through the doorway. The hall led to a common area with a kitchen and living space. Owen sat at a table with his back to me, conversing with a small blond woman. She had a beautiful smile, freely given, and bright blue eyes. When she noticed me, she jumped up from the table.

"Ah, there she is," said the woman in slightly accented English. "Nice to meet you, Sophie. I'm Siobhan." She pronounced it Showbin
. She took my hand in a firm grip and shook it vigorously. "Owen speaks highly of you."

Owen's eyes caught mine for a fraction of a second, then he turned back to stare at the empty table. "Oh, he does, does he?"

"Aye. If we were still an item, I'd be jealous. You have a seat, and I'll whip up a spot of dinner."

An item? He hadn't mentioned we were going to see an ex-girlfriend, but I supposed with Owen, that made sense.

The wooden table was worn smooth with age and use. From my chair, I could see Siobhan working in the kitchen. Down the hall was the room I'd slept in and a bathroom. Across the way, there was the living room, front door, and a second bedroom. The house was quaint, with a country cottage feel. "You have a lovely home."

"Nice of you to say, dear," said Siobhan over the clanking of pots and pans. The distinctive tingle of magic filled the air, and the scent of fresh cut grass reached my nose. "It's nothin' fancy, but it suits my needs."

Siobhan was busy, so it felt rude to keep talking to her. That left me with Owen. He avoided my gaze, probably not sure how I felt abou
t what he had to do to get me there. It had been a nasty bit of magic, but effective. "Where'd you get the charm?"

"Phoebe slipped it to me," he admitted. "Just in case."

"I appreciate you helping me get that thing off," I assured him. "It's such a relief."

He looked up, a slight smile returning to his face. "Y
ou looked peaceful once Siobhan removed it."

"Creeper," I said, slugging his arm playfully. At his confused look, I added, "Watching me sleep."

"That's not what I—"

"Oh hush," said Siobhan plunking two plates down in front of us. The meat and potatoes were piled high, like she knew just how hungry I was. "The woman was just teasing. I swear, for someone who hooks up with so many woman, you can be clueless when one is flirting with you."

It was my turn to sputter. "Hey, I wasn't flirting."

For such a small woman she had a fearsome scowl. "Don't you lie to a gnome in her own house when she's serving you food from her own garden."

I muttered an apology. It wasn't a lie from my perspective, or I couldn't have said it. That didn't mean it was entirely the truth, either. In my flustered state I almost thanked her for the food, but that wasn't a good idea on Earth, let alone in Faerie. "The food looks amazing. I've never seen someone put such a good meal together so fast."

She grinned and sat down to her own plate, the slight already forgiven. "Hearth magic is the best magic." She loaded up her fork and swallowed noisily before smiling at me and gesturing to my plate.

I took a bite of the meat and let out a groan. "It really is," I agreed.

Owen remained quiet, eating his meal with a look on his face I couldn't interpret. Siobhan chattered nonstop about her garden and the ongoing war with the pixies stealing her fruit. Her stories kept me from feeling obligated to entertain our host and I took the time to indulge in the taste of my food. I wondered if Phoebe and Siobhan would get along if I convinced her to come live with us. Between brownies and this meal, I'd be a happy crow.

Siobhan slapped a hand on the table, shaking the glasses. "The little bastards are insatiable. They'd eat the whole lot if I let them. Even with my spells in place, they manage to take a lot more than I'd like. The ridiculous thing is, if they'd just talk to me, I'd share. I always have more than I need. But I can't abide being stolen from. I won't have it."

I nodded sheepishly, pushing my cleaned plate away. "I can understand that," I said, glancing at Owen. He didn't notice.

"I have to use the bathroom." He scooted away from the table, his chair scraping the tile floor, and headed toward the second bedroom.

"The bathroom is the other way," I called.

"He never liked the guest bath," said Siobhan

Now that Owen was out of the room, I asked what I'd been dying to know: "Where is the necklace?"

Siobhan smiled sweetly and patted my hand. "Don't you worry about that. I've put it away somewhere for safekeeping. I didn't know how those would be used when I created them."

"You made that necklace?" I said, pulling my hand away. She seemed so sweet. Why would she make something so dark?

She looked wounded, like she'd noticed the suspicion stiffening my spine. "I made the necklace. I didn't put the enchantments on it. I thought I was making necklaces with a special release so they couldn't be easily stolen. I never would have knowingly made something designed to steal the magic of dragons. Owen knows that. I've got no use for anyone who would do such a thing."

My mind reeled. "Steal the magic of dragons?"

"Aye, that's what the enchantments on the necklace were meant for. A spell to draw the attention of the dragon, and another to drain its magic. I assume the lure was to bring the dragon back to whomever
wanted to collect the magic."

I didn't want to think too closely about why I was affected by a spell meant to ensnare a dragon. "That's probably why MOD wanted me to collect it. So they could lock it away or destroy it. I'll need it back so I can turn it in."

"I don't think that's the best idea, love. You already fell prey to it once. I think—Do you smell smoke?"

We both turned to the stove and sniffed the air. There was nothing there to explain the smell. The stronger it got, the more it smelled like burning metal. And... cinnamon?

"Owen!" I shot to my feet. "That stupid, stupid dragon." I ran into Siobhan's bedroom with her right on my heels. Next to her bed was a safe, cleverly disguised as a bedside table. It even had real drawers that opened on the front. Inside was a solid metal door with a still smoking, circular hole burnt through it. The bedroom window was open. How could he? "He's gone, and he's got the necklace."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"This doesn't make any sense," said Siobhan, her brow crinkling. "I put the necklace in a bag that muted the lure." Her confusion gave way to a towering anger it didn't seem possible for her small form to contain. I half expected steam to pour from her ears. "That bastard knows how much I hate being stolen from!"

"I have to go after him." I ran to the window to see if I could get a bead on where he'd gone. The scent of his magic was everywhere. It had taken a lot of magic—and skill—to burn through that safe and not burn down the whole house. High in the air, I spotted him diving to the left toward a clearing in the trees. His scent trail was strong, and he knew that. He thought he'd lose me in the sky. He had another thing coming.