Bound by Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 1) (5 page)

If humans could see the city, they wouldn't think too much of it as far as architecture was concerned. It was a bustling metropolis that didn't fit in with the small towns surrounding it, but there weren't castles floating in the sky or anything. What there were though, is a boatload of fae, no earthbound glamours required.

While many fae lived in the city, for most it was a waypoint. Portals were plentiful in Volarus, you just had to find them, if you were so inclined. Open a janitor's closet, push on the right wall, find yourself in a bathroom in New York City, or smack dab in the middle of Faerie. Volarus served as a place of business, a place for fae on Earth, a piece of Earth for those in Faerie. Every fae, at some point or another, found themselves in Volarus.

Of course, it had taken me a long time to get there. Banshees lived at Wailing Lakes, a beautiful community an hour out of Arcata, and firmly on Earth. They had little use for the rest of Earth, or Faerie, or Volarus. Wailing Lakes was their whole world, their own world, and I... Well, I wasn't a banshee, but I grew up with my sisters. Close enough. Anyway, no one was inviting me over to their place in Volarus, and whenever I attempted to wander the streets alone I wound up in trouble. I typically limited my Volarus trips to the familiar, which amounted to FAB
headquarters. It was only a block away from the abandoned house entrance.

I stepped out of the familiar alley onto an unfamiliar street and was almost trampled by a stampeding unicorn. Its horn glinted red in the moonlight. The smell of lemons washed over me in its wake. What the hell? Unicorns never came into the city. They lived in the wilderness, loved open spaces and living in herds. A unicorn running through the city. There was a story there, and it wasn't a good one
. A few seconds later, a couple of suits skidded to a halt in front of me.

"Official FAB business! Did a unicorn just run through here?" asked the taller of the two. He had at least three feet on his partner, and a foot on me. A thick beard hung from his chin almost to his waist. The smell of cold stone and snow swirled around him. His partner smelled of fresh cut grass. A hill giant and a gnome, if my n
ose served me right.

I pointed the way the unicorn had gone and the giant dashed off, cracking a few cobblestones as he ran. I hooked the gnome's arm, aiming to satisfy my curiosity. "What the hell
has a unicorn running through the street like its tail is on fire?"

The agent watched his friend sprint away and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked eager to talk instead of continuing the chase. "Somebody thought it would be funny to dose it up with something and ride it into the city. When the drugs wore off
, the unicorn lost its shit. Started impaling people. Couldn't even talk. Just made this nasty scream. Killed the asshole and all of his friends. Didn't even use its magic. Just impaled them with its horn and stomped on a few. We're just trying to get it out of the city before it does something it will regret."

A deep, booming shout drew his attention and he dashed after his partner.

Just another night in
Volarus. It had its own charm that was for sure. I couldn't imagine living in its borders full time though. I'd been there two minutes and my senses were already overloaded.

I continued down the street, renewing my focus on the directions Ava had given me. My clutch felt awkward under my arm. I had to squeeze it shut to get my phone and a credit card in there. Risking spilling its meager contents on the street, I pried apart the clasp and retrieved the picture Ava gave me of a cocky man with light brown hair with a hint of bronze. He smiled like he was undressing someone with his eyes. That worked for a lot of people, but I found it irritating, even in portrait. I had the strong urge to draw a tongue sticking out of his mouth or put a silly hat with flowers on him. Anything to lighten the man up. Ava hadn't told me how she knew the guy, but from the way she talked about him and his annoying good looks, I assumed him to be an ex-lover. Judging by the way she talked about the women he brought home from the club, probably a cheating ex-lover. I wouldn't be losing any sleep over stealing a book from the guy who cheated on Ava.

A few blocks later, the sound of thumping bass told me I was nearing the club. A swarm of pixies buzzed around my head, chattering so fast I could only make out one word in ten. They were making no secret of sniffing me out. Finally one of them slowed his slurred speech enough to be intelligible. "You smell funny. What are you?" Honey perfume
rolled off him like someone had just cracked open a beehive.

"I'm a crow who's going to eat you and your pals if you don't piss off." I didn't have nearly enough patience to deal with a flight of sugar drunk pixies. I barely tolerated them
sober.

While dragons were frequent fliers at my job, and dealing with them was a good way to end up with third-degree burns, there was no worse job to take than one involving a pixie. They loved stealing things,
especially
naughty things. An enchanted object that could take out a city block, open a portal that led off a cliff, or made the victim only able to speak in pig Latin? All fun and games to a pixie. They hid their treasures in magical pocket universes that only they could access. It was always a complete pain in the ass to get them back. The sugar drunk pixies continued to buzz around my head and I reached for my absent swords. I let out a growl that scared a couple away, but the other ten remained, now
making lewd gestures. "Fine, you asked for it."

I opened the vault of my own fears and pulled out the memory of watching the Alfred Hitchcock classic
The Birds
when I was a child. Seeing all of those birds swarm had terrified me. Being frightened by a flock of birds was amusing to me now, but I could still recall the stark terror it inspired whenever one of my banshee sisters put it on. I channeled that fear and pushed it out in an ever-widening circle. The effect on the pixies was immediate. Many of them reversed course
and crashed into the others. A faint tinkle of mist hit my shoulder, smelling sickly sweet, then the swarm finally gathered their wits enough to properly flee.

I pulled a tissue out of my bag and groaned as I wiped my shoulder clean of pixie piss. My fear aura wasn't a power I used often for precisely that reason. I could make people afraid, but I couldn't control their reactions. If I had judged them wrong, the bastard that had pissed on me could have just as easily attempted to kill me. Pixies weren't known for being particularly blood-thirsty, so I'd risked it. Also, I was annoyed. That was going to get me killed someday
.

After another block I came upon a line of people leaning against a wall. I started to walk past them, but the harpy at the end raised her voice. "You going to
Smoke and Mirrors?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Line starts here," she said, shaking her head.

"But the club is still two blocks away." This wasn't helping my mood any. Ava hadn't said anything about waiting in line all night.

"Hatchling
," she said with an annoyed grunt.

"Oh, hell no. You did not just call me a hatchling."
It may have been true I was new to the scene and didn't have any idea what I was doing, but I wasn't about to take what was an obvious insult.

Pissed off, and a little trigger happy after it had just worked so well with the pixies, my fear aura surrounded me. This time, I didn't draw on the memory of
The Birds
. I'd always been tense in cramped spaces, but since Leandra's attack, I'd developed a case of claustrophobia. The horror tightened my insides, and in a rush of panic, I forced it away from me, magical terror oozing from every pore and filling the surrounding air. Shrieks followed. The rude harpy at the end of the line cowered against the building, her hand stuffed in her mouth to quash her maddened screams. Tears streamed from eyes so wide with terror it looked like they might fall out. I felt a little bad for her. I hadn't meant to dump quite so much fear in the air.

The rest of the people in the next fifty feet had fled, many of them leaving purses and other personal effects behind. As much as it would suit my mood, I couldn't put that much fear into a crowd. Sooner or later I'd run into someone who came down hard on the fight side of fight-or-flight. If I was giving off that much terror and they still felt the need to fight, they would be a force to be reckoned with. It would end in a bloodbath. I pulled back on my magic, but didn't extinguish it entirely. I still didn't have time to deal with the
line.

I ambled toward the club entrance, watching the queue gradually dissolve before me. A couple of shoving matches broke out, but nothing serious. I stepped around them without being noticed. Once I rounded the corner, only six people remained in line. I let my magic dissolve. The six fae shifted from foot to foot, edging closer to the bouncer at the door. Nervous little bunnies. Maybe I hadn't gotten it all the way under control. Stopping was always the hard part.

The bouncer nervously surveyed the short line and then waved us all in. He must have decided that keeping seven people from going into the club wasn't that important. At least, not as important as the fear he was feeling. He didn't even collect the cover charge. I clamped down my control on my magic—truly reeling it in this time—and stepped int
o the club.

Nothing registered visually until my body caught up with the magic overload. I'd thought it was bad on the streets of Volarus, but damn. I couldn't have told the difference between a unicorn and an ogre with the way my throat burned. As I adjusted, I was able to see why. Fae jumped and flitted over the dance floor, shooting their magic about like they were under attack. As a picture, the place could have been a battle scene, if it weren't for all the smiling faces. As people danced, they hit each other with magic. Some of the effects were obvious: floating the other person, enlarging their head in a goofy way, raining cotton candy down on the crowd. While I would have found any of that irritating, it was the magic that wasn't immediately obvious that made my skin crawl. Yes, everyone seemed happy and friendly, but how could anyone trust a crowd of strangers not to dose them with nefarious magic? I shivered. Avoiding the dance floor was now on the top of my list.

My ears already ached from the loud music.

My senses adjusted to the overwhelming sounds and the glut of magical sensations as much as they were going to. I made my way across the club
, sticking to the edges of the room. Lights danced over the crowd, and once I blocked out the magic, and the sounds, and focused on my sight, they appeared to be a happy ocean of people, the lights and their movement giving the appearance of waves. They were all throwing their trust into the pot so they could be a part of something, this happy ocean. I didn't think I could ever do that, but the temptation made more sense in that light.

A calmer magic itched at my back, and I turned to see velvet ropes blocking off another room hidden to the side. The sounds of the club dampened as I neared a hazy magic barrier; the calm lured me closer.

A woman in an elegant dress stepped out from behind a podium and approached me, her air the strange mix of subservience and arrogance that only came from being the hostess at an upscale restaurant.

"You look peckish," she said. "You should come in for a bite."

I opened my mouth to refuse and surprised myself by accepting instead. My stomach rumbled so loud I worried it could be heard over the music. "That would be great
. I'm starving."

"Would a seat at the bar be acceptable?" asked
the hostess, her intense gaze indicating that she would be disappointed if I didn't agree.

"That would be fine," I said
, not relishing the idea of sitting at a table alone.

"Follow me." She took off at a pace that had me watching her feet. There was a high heel
master
. Her ankles didn't wobble for a second—not even when a chair backed up and she had to twist and dodge it. I managed okay on my low heels, and I'd never been interested in shoes before, but she made them look
good
.

I passed the velvet ropes that separated the restaurant from the rest of the club and my ears popped; the sensation of cool water flooded the back of my mouth. Gone was the raucous dance music, replaced by a soothing tinkle of falling water and flutes. The abrupt change played havoc with my inner ear and made me stumble.

I hurried to catch up with the hostess, who I'd almost lost, still working my jaw up and down to clear my ears before becoming self-conscious.

"It's okay," said the hostess once I was a pace behind her. "Everyone looks like a fish out of water when they first step in here." As far as I saw, she'd never even glanced over her shoulder. Did her magic allow her to see me? My senses were still too muddled to get a read on her. Anyhow, maybe it wasn't magic, maybe she was just good at her job. I wondered if I was supposed to tip her. She stopped at a low wall that divided the regular tables from the bar area and handed me a menu. "Have a seat anywhere you like. The serve
r will be along to take your order in a moment."

"Much appreciated
," I said, but she was already gone. "Hostesses are strange creatures."

"Yes, they are," said a low, smoky voice.

I turned to search out its source and met the eyes of my target. Owen looked different than his picture. Less... predatory, but still a little douchey.
When he gave me a lazy grin that weakened my knees, I amended my earlier thought about him looking less predatory. He was trying to look innocent before he swooped in for the kill. He wore his black, tight leather jacket open. A buckle collar swayed around his neck when he moved. The button-down shirt was a dark gray, and it probably would have looked good on anyone. His hair was rumpled in a careless way that must have taken him an hour in front of a mirror to achieve. It went with the overall look he was going for—sexy, but laid back. The scruff on his face was the perfect example. He was too well put together for it to simply be a well-timed accident, but he wanted me to believe he was the kind of guy who unintentionally looked that sexy. If I hadn't already disliked him based on Ava's tone, or the club I had to come to in order to find him, the well portrayed look he was putting on would have earned my glower. Anyone putting on that much of an act was someone I didn't want to spend my time puzzling out.