The Secret Coin (Accessory to Magic Book 3)

by Kathrin Hutson

  “Clearly, I can no longer return to my home.” Leandras turned to face her and spread his arms, his smile morphing into something between amusement and a sheepish acceptance. “And illusions only go so far in alleviating certain discomforts.”

  “Right.” Looking him up and down, Jessica set a hand on the back of her gray couch and nodded. “Makes sense.”

  Definitely the wrong place and the wrong time. And the wrong fae. She shouldn’t have even considered doing anything with this one that wasn’t strictly Gateway business. Especially after the last fae she’d let get way too close for comfort.

  ‘For comfort, huh? That’s what you’re calling it.’

  Well at the time, yeah. It was. Then it got weird.

  And why was she having this conversation with a bank? Winthrop & Dirledge didn’t know shit about physical “comfort.”

  The bank sniggered. ‘You have much to learn, young one.’

  Not going there.

  “I understand if it’s asking too much,” Leandras continued, obviously mistaking her surprise for hesitation to let him use the facilities.

  Christ, she hoped he was actually mistaking her near humiliation for literally anything else.

  His gaze flickered toward the bathroom door on the other side of the room. “But I would prefer to leave this establishment feeling more like myself after the last five days. It would be—”

  “Yeah, showers fix a lot. I get it.” Jessica ran a hand through her hair and turned toward the bathroom. “Let me make sure you have a clean towel first.”

  Watch him. If he heads into the hall…

  ‘He’s not going anywhere. Hey, when was the last time you took a shower?’

  What? Yesterday. She slipped through the open bathroom door and pressed herself against the wall to finally get rid of Leandras’ gaze she’d felt on her back. All over her, to be honest. And we’re dropping this.

  ‘You sure? You’re looking a little flustered…’

  Jessica glanced at her reflection in the mirror.

  No, she looked exhausted. Haphazard. Like she’d just been dragged across the hallway by the Gateway and then tossed around again by a fae who liked to intervene at the last moment like it was his goddamn calling. Her hair was a ratty mess after that little tussle. And yeah, she was still flushed.

  Shit.

  Her sneakers squeaked across the linoleum floor as she lurched quickly toward the sink. The cabinet door beneath it banged open when she tossed it aside, and yes, there were two towels folded there. Good thing, too, because the cramped laundry room was tucked away behind the kitchen downstairs, and she had no intention of leaving Leandras up here by himself. The binding was over, but that didn’t mean the fae would keep any promises now that they’d made it through.

  She snatched up one of the towels and set it on the counter before leaning over the edge of the tub and quickly swiping out the tangles of dry hair matted against the porcelain.

  ‘Seriously? You’re not running a five-star hotel, here. And honestly, I have no interest in another makeover. Why bother?’

  Because.

  Now that she thought about it, there really wasn’t a good answer for that other than she was actually going to let the fae pain in her ass use her shower. And that was it.

  ‘He doesn’t care.’

  And he doesn’t need anything else to use against me. Magical or otherwise. Shut up.

  After another quick sweep of the bathroom for anything she would’ve used to judge someone else’s lifestyle choices, she tossed the hairball into the trashcan and stepped back into her room. “Okay. You can— What are you doing?”

  Leandras turned away from the dresser with a picture frame held gently in his long, pale fingers. The one with the photo of Jessica and Mel together at the Renaissance Festival. Laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world, and how much had changed since then?

  Too much.

  He tapped a finger against the back of the frame and pursed his lips. “Admittedly, I hadn’t expected you to be even this sentimental.”

  “Put that down.” Jessica glanced at the ceiling and sighed. “I know you’ve already done it, but this isn’t an invitation to go through my things.”

  Ignoring her completely, the fae looked back down at the picture. “Who is she?”

  “Someone from a different life.” The speed with which that statement just came out of her, without even having to think about it, surprised her.

  ‘That’s not true.’

  He doesn’t need to know that or anything about Mel and me and whatever we used to be. So can it.

  “I’m serious, Leandras. We’ve already covered more than enough of my personal…whatever. Do you want that shower or not?”

  With a small smile, the fae replaced the framed picture Jessica really needed to get rid of—or at least put somewhere else—then turned toward her to head for the bathroom. “I do. And a bit more privacy, if you don’t mind.”

  “The bathroom has a door.” She folded her arms. “That’s as much privacy as you get. I’m not leaving this room while you’re up here.”

  “Hmm. I suppose if circumstances were reversed, I’d feel something rather similar. Will you also be timing me?”

  “What? No. Why would I…”

  Leandras chuckled as he crossed the room, already starting to unbutton his dress shirt that was only crisp and clean and white from his illusion magic.

  He was messing with her. Of course he was.

  “I appreciate the various levels of your hospitality, Jessica.” He jerked the hem of his shirt from beneath the waistband of his suit pants before undoing the last third of the buttons. “Next time I swear a binding for sanctuary and protection, I’ll be sure to remember the necessities of hygiene are included in the terms.”

  Okay, well saying it like that made her sound like the worst host ever.

  ‘You are,’ the bank said with a high-pitched giggle. ‘At least when you’re sworn into hosting magicals like this one.’

  He’s still alive, and no one who’s looking for him has any proof that he’s been here the whole time. I’d call that being a damn good host.

  ‘Uh-huh. And what would you call that?’

  Jessica hadn’t realized she’d been staring at the fae undressing on his way to the bathroom until the bank brought it to her attention. Leandras has just finished peeling off the rest of his dress shirt and now folded it into a neat square as he stepped into the bathroom.

  His bare back in and of itself wasn’t anything special or new. She’d seen plenty of bare backs. And chests. And legs. But the map of scars stretching across the fae’s flesh and interspersed with runic tattoos—one beside the base of his spine, another stretching over the curve of his shoulder—was definitely new.

  I have no idea.

  The bank didn’t comment on her delayed reaction. ‘Hey, you guys could be twins. Again.’

  Jessica wasn’t so sure. Yeah, she had her fair share of scars, and the list of them just kept growing, no matter how hard she tried to avoid physically scarring situations. But all of those looked normal—a straight slash from a knife; the twisted, puckered lines of a burn; the shiny sheen of a patch on her thigh where she’d had to strip off her own skin because the safe they’d cracked on the Orion job had demanded a literal pound of flesh once they’d deactivated the words.

  ‘More like a quarter-pound, wasn’t it?’

  She ignored the bank’s constant correction of her own thoughts, because she was way more focused on what in the world could have possibly given Leandras those scars. Some looked like they could have been tattooed there instead. Others depicted a patchwork of dots and larger holes, like the torn flesh itself had exploded against his back from within and had stayed there on the surface. And the deep-purple ink of the tattoos probably wasn’t ink at all, judging by the way they glowed with the same light that had filled the fae’s own magic-box until he’d emptied it.

  Any idea what those are?

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nbsp; ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ The bank sniggered. ‘But I’d reconsider that urge to join him in the bathroom and ask all about it. Might not be the right time for either of you.’

  Jessica clicked her tongue in annoyance, and the sound made Leandras look up at her in the mirror’s reflection as he set his neatly folded dress shirt on the counter.

  Shit. And now he knew she’d been staring at him.

  “I believe I have everything I need, Jessica,” he said, smirking at her startled reflection. “Thank you.”

  “Right.” She cleared her throat and nodded, looking everywhere but at the mirror. “I’ll just…be here.”

  He turned around to meet her gaze, his smirk growing into a knowing smile before he swung the door shut. Five seconds later, the squeak of old faucet handles and the rush of water from the showerhead spilled beneath the bathroom door.

  With a sigh, Jessica slumped onto the gray couch and stared at the opposite wall.

  ‘Am I the only one who noticed he didn’t lock the door?’

  So?

  ‘Just sayin’. Anybody who wants privacy that badly likes to use locks when they’re around to be used. And that look he gave you didn’t exactly scream, “Stay away from me…”’

  Leaning forward, she groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Great. The bank’s trying to play matchmaker.”

  ‘Oh, come on. You could use a little fun. And from the looks of it, so could he. Not like he has anywhere to go after that shower, right?’

  “Wait, what?” Jessica sat up quickly and blinked at the bare wall in front of her. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

  ‘Like what? Stating the obvious?’

  “He has his own—” Grimacing at the rising volume of her own voice, she cast the bathroom door a wary glance and had to actively think the rest of this conversation instead. He has his own apartment.

  ‘Yeah, which you, your friends, and a couple dozen dead Hakal practitioners totally destroyed. Hey, Hakali Hand. Guess we know how tied up in this they are too, right?’

  Right. And Leandras knew all of them. Jensen Ardis. The Requiem. And Fargus Kresh the skeletal creeper, representative of the Hakali Hand Corporation. Apparently, the fae also knew some other band of magicals—“remnants of the Laenmúr,” he’d called them—and the way he’d said it painted them as the good guys. Which made it that much harder to trust anything Leandras said about anyone.

  ‘But he’s right about the Gateway and what we have to do.’

  Maybe. We still haven’t figured that out completely, either.

  But if the fae really was that dedicated to helping Jessica move onto the next phase of the reckoning with the Gateway and keeping everyone else from getting their hands on what was off-limits in both worlds, she had to meet these Laenmúr people for herself. Face to face. If they could actually help like he’d said, she could finally catch a break from being the only one who could do anything useful in this screwed-up mess they’d made together.

  ‘You know, sometimes I wonder about that. It does take two to tango.’

  Jessica slumped back against the couch cushion and closed her eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  ‘Tabitha saw a lot on a regular basis. You know, things nobody else sees. And she was a lot stronger than you.’

  She snorted. “Thanks.’

  ‘When it came to hiding things from me. I could see into her mind too, you know. Just not…all the way. But seeing yours for the last month-ish makes me think she’d been planning this from the beginning. All of it.’

  “What?”

  ‘Think about it. A vestrohím with only half her magic and a startling but admirable lack of greed or hunger for power. Sure, way too stubborn and maybe carrying around a little more guilt than necessary. But hey, that only leaves more room for redemption, right?’

  “Oh, jeeze.” She pressed herself farther into the back of the couch. “I’m not doing this for redemption.”

  ‘No, you’re doing it because you signed a contract you didn’t know I could change, and that was only because I didn’t want you to know. But hear me out, witch, ’cause I really think I might be onto something here.’

  If there was a way for a sentient building to trip its balls off on magical acid, then yeah, she’d say the bank was on something, all right.

  ‘About the fae.’ The bank tittered. ‘Nice deflection, though. Look, you found yourself making friends with literally the only magical who could’ve gotten that coin out of the vault. Through you, obviously, but you know what I mean.’

  “And Tabitha could’ve done that herself too. But the Requiem killed her, and you didn’t do anything to stop it.”

  ‘I… Hey. Low blow. I couldn’t stop it, okay? And Tabitha couldn’t have fought off all those idiots barging in here for the coin. Yeah, she would’ve had a thing or two to toss at Mickey, but no way in hell could she have gone into Leandras’ apartment and taken out all those chanting weirdos on her own. Forget the fact that she stopped leaving me years ago. The scryer was good to take on four or five at a time. Six tops. She would’ve died in that apartment anyway. But you didn’t.’

  “Only because I had help.”

  ‘Uh-huh. Tabitha didn’t. I’m not saying I’m sure about any of it, but when you get a feeling, you just gotta trust your gut, right?’

  The nonexistent gut of a sentient bank protecting a portal? Sure.

  Jessica shook her head. “Tabitha didn’t plan her own death.”

  ‘No, but I bet you anything she planned around it. Used what she knew was already going to happen and couldn’t be stopped. Then figured out how to make all the rest of it work out after she was gone. Who knows? Maybe she even had a hand in Leandras being the one who’s rocking your world and not some gross old fogey or that homeless-guy orc whose hand you exploded.’

  For a moment, Jessica let herself consider the possibility of everything the bank had said. That this really was some kind of manifest destiny, and the whole time, she’d been fighting against it because she didn’t want to be who she was apparently supposed to get the job done. But thinking like that only made it all feel even more complicated.

  “Well, Tabitha’s gone. And unless you have a necromancer I don’t know about held hostage somewhere, we won’t be hearing from her again for a while. So how is any of this supposed to make me feel better?”

  ‘Oh, it’s not. I just thought we were having a brainstorming sesh.’

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “That’s not exactly what I…”

  Leandras’ voice rose from the bathroom, not particularly loud but perfectly clear against the rush of water.

  Is he…singing in the shower?

  ‘If you can even call that singing. I have no idea what language that is, either.’

  You’re the sentient building literally built around the Gateway to protect it, and you don’t recognize the language.

  ‘I was built on Earth, in case you haven’t noticed. If it was Mandarin or Scottish Gaelic or Latin, then yeah. I could figure it out.’

  “Okay, forget the language.” She cast a wary glance at the bathroom door before stretching out along the length of the couch and laying her head back on the armrest. At least this way she could relax and keep an eye on that door. “Let’s talk about what you found on your little four-day escape.”

  ‘Oh, yeah… You know, it was a lot more successful than I expected.’

  “Where’d you go?”

  ‘Sorry, witch. Trying to explain that to you would be like trying to teach a cockroach how to use a calculator. One of those higher-dimension multiverse kinda things.’

  Jessica frowned. “One of what?”

  ‘I don’t know. It just sounded good. Bottom line, your physically based witchy mind would explode. So let’s drop that part and skip to what you actually want to hear.’

  If the bank followed through with that suggestion, it would be a first for both of them. “By all means, bank. Tell me what I want to hear.”
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  ‘Okay, you really don’t have to get all snippy about it. You want the answer, sure. But you’re probably not gonna like it.’

  The answer to how exactly Jessica could undo the Shattering she’d cast on herself, return the rest of her magic, and simultaneously aim the deadly cost of that spell away from some random innocent and directly toward Mickey Hargraves? The Matahg who’d betrayed her and all of Corpus and almost finally killed her less than a week ago? What was there not to like about that?

  ‘Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Jessica. If you thought the hard part was dealing with a fae locked in the closet for five days, think again.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jessica swallowed thickly and gritted her teeth. She had thought going through the binding with Leandras was the hard part. Now, apparently, there was something even worse headed her way.

  “Please don’t tell me I have to get Mickey back here and…keep him locked up as my prisoner or something.”

  The bank snorted. ‘Yeah, that’d go over well. “Hey, Mickey. Why don’t you come on back, get cozy, and don’t make any sudden moves while I suck up my magic again and murder you at the same time?”’

  She hissed in frustration. “It’s not murder if he deserves it.”

  ‘I know a few Magical Judiciary Council board members who might disagree with you, but hey. What do they know?’

  “Nothing about the Gateway or Mickey or the Shattering, and that’s how it’s gonna stay. And I thought you were all for hitting two birds with one stone here.”

  ‘Oh, believe me. I can’t wait to see that Matahg burn. He slashed me up all over the hallway downstairs. I’m just making sure you know the difference between murder and…well, an accident. Which this definitely won’t be.’

  “I know that.” Rubbing her forehead as she stared at the ceiling, Jessica puffed out a heavy sigh. “Just tell me what we have to do.”

  ‘Well, technically you were right. We don’t have to invite him back here. Actually, I’m totally against that as anything but the option that comes after the last resort. But yeah. If you wanna aim the Shattering’s aftershock of death, he has to be with you. Physically. And then you have to cast the spell before he can…you know. Beat you to the punch.’