Shadow of the Fae: A Fated Mates Fae Romance (Shadow Court Book 1)

by KJ Baker

  Shadow of the Fae

  Shadow Court, Volume 1

  K J Baker

  Published by K J Baker, 2021.

  While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  SHADOW OF THE FAE

  First edition. January 1, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 K J Baker.

  Written by K J Baker.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 1

  ASHA

  “Sixty dollars is my final offer,” said Brendan McNally, pursing his lips and pulling his thick eyebrows into a frown. “And I’m taking food off my own plate at that.”

  I put down the brass astrolabe I’d been holding, folded my arms across my chest, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Well, I wouldn’t want you to starve. Goodbye.”

  I turned and began walking away. Did he really think I was that gullible? Did he really think I would accept such an outrageous price? I was used to sellers taking one look at me and deciding I was an easy target because of two things: I’m a woman and I’m young. More fool them.

  True, most people in my line of work—dealing in antiques—tend to be of the more...how should I put it?...mature variety, but I’d been taught this business by the best—my grandmother—and I’d be damned if I would let Brendan McNally take advantage of me.

  He darted in front of me to stop me walking away. “Look, Miss Grant, seeing as it’s getting late, and I’d like to shut up early tonight, how about I offer you a special deal? Fifty dollars and the astrolabe is yours.”

  Miss Grant, was it? I must have rattled him. Normally, he just called me Asha. I turned to gaze appraisingly at the astrolabe. A dent marred one side and the patina had long-since come off the brass. Used by astronomers and navigators since ancient times to plot the stars, this one was more ornament than anything. What can I say? I was a sucker for anything astronomical.

  I looked up, met Brendan’s gaze. “How about we cut the crap? We both know that thing is a cheap replica—and a poor one at that. It’s worth twenty dollars at the most.”

  He looked offended, his bushy eyebrows rising. “Twenty dollars! If I let it go for that I’ll be—”

  “Taking food off your own plate. Yeah, I know. But that’s my final offer.”

  Brendan deflated like a popped balloon. “You drive a hard bargain, you know that?”

  I grinned and held out my hand. “Yeah, I know. Do we have a deal?”

  He shook my hand gingerly. “Deal.”

  I handed over the money. Whilst Brendan fiddled around in his cash box, I walked along the rows of shelves in his storeroom, browsing. Something up on the top shelf caught my eye. Putting down the astrolabe, I reached up and pulled the object down. It was a metal ball about the size of my fist and looked like it was made of iron or steel but was strangely light for either of those metals. Odd markings, like runes covered the metal ball.

  I frowned. I couldn’t place its origins. Scandinavian? Celtic?

  “Brendan, what’s this?” I called.

  He came bustling over. He glanced at the object in my hand and seemed to go a little pale.

  “I don’t have the faintest idea. I got it in a house clearance about six months ago. Can’t sell it for love nor money. Ugly thing gives people the creeps.”

  I turned the ball over in my hands. The dark metal certainly wasn’t the prettiest, and the runic design that crawled across its surface had a harsh cast. The markings were angular, severely cut, and one of them looked disconcertingly like a man hanging on a gallows. Even so, there was something intriguing about the piece. It was unlike anything I’d seen before.

  “I’ll take it,” I announced, not quite sure where the words came from. “How much?”

  Brendan swallowed. “Ten dollars and it’s yours.”

  I tried to hide my surprise. The scrap value of the metal alone must be worth more than that. It was very unlike Brendan to give a fair price. The man loved to haggle more than anyone I knew, save perhaps Grandma. Why was he so keen to get rid of it?

  Still, I wasn’t about to argue. I handed over the money, put the ball in my backpack, then with a nod of farewell to Brendan, grabbed the astrolabe and left the warehouse. Once outside, I climbed into my beat-up old sedan and drove off.

  My best friend, Gracie, looked up as the bell over the shop door chimed when I got back. The shop, as usual, was empty of patrons.

  “Any customers while I was out?”

  Gracie shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. “Not unless you count a guy that came in asking for directions to MacDonald’s.”

  I gave a wry smile, trying not to let my worry show on my face. Business was slow. Very slow. It seemed nobody had much interest in antiques these days, not even the whacky and wonderful one-off pieces I liked to hunt down.

  “Brendan got anything new in?” Gracie asked.

  I grinned and held up the astrolabe. “Look at this beauty! With a bit of restoration it will be as good as new!”

  Gracie rolled her eyes. “Looks to me like some more random crap.”

  Even though she helped out at the shop whenever she could, Gracie had yet to develop a taste for antiques. She didn’t see the beauty in old things like I did. She didn’t appreciate their history and craftsmanship as my grandmother had taught me. Instead, she thought most of the stuff I sold in the shop was worthless tat. Or—as she usually liked to call it—‘random crap’.

  Shaking my head, I carried the astrolabe through to the workshop at the back of the shop and placed it on the workbench, ready to begin restoration work tomorrow. Then I returned to the front desk where Gracie sat. She was staring at the computer screen, perusing vacation deals on the internet.

  “Working hard, I see?”

  Gracie grinned, not the slightest bit embarrassed. “This job has to have some perks, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose it does.” I glanced at the clock. It was just after four. “Look, why don’t you knock off for the day? I think I’ll be able to cope if there’s suddenly a mad rush.”

  “You sure? I’m happy to stay.”

  “Nah. It’s fine. Go and get that vacation booked.”

  Gracie rose to her feet and pulled her coat from the back of the chair. “Hmm. I know that look,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “What look?”

  “That look you get in your eyes when you’ve found a new treasure. I’m betting you got more from Brendan McNally than that piece of brass.”

  I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I took the metal ball from my backpack and held it up on my palm. “Sure did!”

  Gracie did not seem impressed. “Great. A cannon ball. Ash, you’re the only person I know who could get excited about that.”

  “It’s not a cannon ball, it’s...” I trailed off, frowning. “Actually, I’ve no idea what it is, but I’m sure as hell gonna find out.”

  “Ah, so that’s it!” Gracie said triumphantly. “That’s why you want me out of the shop! So you can get on this damned computer and spend all night on one o
f your research obsessions!”

  I flushed guiltily. Gracie knew me too well. “I’m not obsessive,” I said, a little defensively.

  Gracie raised an eyebrow. “When it comes to your random crap—sorry, I mean ‘antiques’—you are.” She sighed. “Look, Ash. I admire you for wanting to keep this shop going to honor your grandma’s memory, but you’re letting life pass you by whilst you chase down your latest treasure and work all hours trying to keep this place afloat. How many dates have you declined? How many nights out have you missed?”

  I didn’t reply. Her words hit home. Sure, I’d missed a few parties and turned down a few dates. So what? It didn’t mean I was missing out on life. Did it?

  Searching out old pieces and finding things that had been forgotten made me feel...alive. It made me feel like I was getting closer to something I’d been searching for my whole life—although what that thing might be, I couldn’t quite figure out.

  “Okay, I hear you,” I said, spreading my hands. “I promise not to stay up too late researching this thing and we’ll definitely arrange a girly night out soon. In fact, have you thought any more about coming with me to the manuscript exhibition at the weekend? We could make a day of it!”

  I pulled a flyer from my pocket and placed it on the desk in front of her. It advertised a museum exhibit that was opening on Saturday showcasing a collection of ancient manuscripts and astronomical apparatus that had been loaned from museums in Europe.

  Gracie frowned at the flyer. “Ash, spending the day looking at moldy bits of paper and papyrus is not what I had in mind.”

  “Even if I shout you lunch?”

  “Yes, even if you shout me lunch!” Gracie laughed. She patted me on the arm. “You go to your exhibition but when you get back I’m coming round with a bottle of wine, a tub of ice cream and a trashy movie. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  She gave me a hug and left. Sighing, I glanced around. When I’d been a kid, my gran’s shop had seemed like an Aladdin’s cave. It was a place filled with treasure, with all manner of exciting things waiting to be discovered.

  Now though, I saw the place for what it truly was: a run-down antique shop that barely brought in enough money to cover the bills. Oh, I still loved the old place, of course, but the childhood magic had long-since faded amidst the seemingly endless bills and struggling to make ends meet.

  I slumped into the chair in front of the computer and placed the metal ball on the desk. I opened the browser, settled back, and began my research. As Gracie had pointed out, this was one of the parts of my job I loved best: digging out something’s history and discovering its real worth. Over the years I’d found plenty of unloved nuggets that, with a bit of research, turned out to be something special.

  I hoped the metal ball would be one of those.

  But an hour later, my research had turned up nothing. There were plenty of metal orbs, of course, from all periods of history and in all kinds of styles, but nothing matched the off, slightly ugly thing sitting on my desk right now.

  I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back, staring at the ball. Brendan McNally had seemed glad to be rid of it, like it made him uneasy.

  I frowned. What the hell could it be?

  RAVEN

  I leaned against the wall and watched the scene unfolding across the street. A distraught man stood outside his premises, remonstrating with a police officer who was duly jotting things down in a small note-pad. Behind them the lights of the jeweler’s shop shone brightly in the growing afternoon gloom, and any fool could see that the door had been blown right off its hinges.

  On the steps leading up to the door a man in a security uniform sat disconsolately, hands on his knees and head drooping. He’d already taken an earful from the businessman who clearly blamed him for the break-in. Neither of them knew the truth. Neither of them realized that if the security guard had confronted the thieves, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  If my suspicions were correct, he was lucky to get away with his life.

  It was time to get some answers. Pushing away from the wall, I darted across the road and up the steps to the shop. As I passed the jeweler and the police officer, I waved a hand, directing my glamor at them so they wouldn’t see me, and took a seat next to the security guard. He glanced at me suspiciously.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  I focussed my glamor on him. Trust me, I urged. Tell me what I need to know. “I’m after information. About the break-in.”

  He grunted. “Can’t tell you anything more than I told him.” He nodded at the police officer. “Didn’t see nothing. Didn’t hear nothing.”

  I glanced at the shattered door behind us. There was no way a human would be able to rip a door off its hinges like that. But it would be no problem for one of my kind.

  “What did they take?”

  The security officer glanced at his boss, a sour expression crossing his face. “Nothing. Not a single god-damned thing. Not that it makes any difference to that bastard, though. He’s gonna fire me all the same.”

  I frowned. That was odd. “You’re sure they didn’t take anything?”

  The man looked at me and raised an eyebrow. He was probably past fifty, getting old by human standards, and stared at me with eyes that had seen much in his lifetime. “Look, friend. I know every item in that shop. They took nothing. Just busted the door, ransacked the place, and then left. Now the cops are saying there’s no security footage either.”

  And there will be no prints, I thought. You can bet your life on that. I looked around. The street was all but deserted, with just a few humans hurrying home after work, eager to get indoors before night set in. There was a smell in the air, one so faint that few people would have noticed it, but I did.

  Fear.

  This was not a neighborhood to be caught in after dark. I climbed to my feet, thinking about what the man had told me.

  So. The thieves hadn’t found what they were searching for. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief at that. I still had time: time to find them, complete my mission, save my people. But I had to figure out where they would hit next.

  I closed my eyes, allowing my senses to quest outward. There. A faint spoor, a lingering disturbance of the air that indicated their passage. It was faint, barely discernible, but I had spent most of my adult life tracking down one enemy or another. It would be enough.

  I began to walk away, but the security guard suddenly caught my arm. He was examining me strangely, as though surprised he’d spilled his secrets.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Raven,” I replied. “The name’s Raven.”

  Then I walked off into the night.

  Chapter 2

  ASHA

  I was having a delicious dream. In it, I was hiking up a mountain, but I wasn’t tired. I was full of life and energy. Unstoppable. At the top, I paused, staring out on a beautiful vista below. There was someone standing beside me, someone whose presence filled me with warmth and contentment, although I could not see the face. I reached out to take their hand—

  A splintering sound jolted me from sleep. I bolted upright, looking around wildly, not recognizing anything for a moment. Then the humps and shadows resolved themselves into the shop’s shelves and display cabinets, and the bright square in front of me became my computer screen. Damn it. I’d fallen asleep at my desk. Again. The clock on the computer screen read 2.49am.

  I rubbed at my eyes, trying to clear my thoughts. The strange metal ball I’d bought from Brendan McNally sat on the desk in front of the computer. I squinted at the device. I’d been researching it, hadn’t I? Trying to discover what the hell it was. I must have fallen asleep and something had woken me—

  I spun around as another sound came from the back of the shop. My neck prickled. I scrabbled around for my cell phone then cursed silently when I realized it was in my coat pocket which was hanging on the back of the door.

  Heart hammering, I went very still and listened. Th
ere it was again. Movement out the back and something that sounded like whispered conversation.

  A shiver walked down my spine. Someone was in the shop!

  I should have run. I should have bolted for the door, got out into the street and called the police. That would have been the sensible thing to do. Instead, I found myself rising silently to my feet and peering into the gloom at the back of my shop. Mingled with the fear curling in my belly was something else: anger. Who the hell was breaking into my shop? How dare they?

  Almost involuntarily, my fingers closed around an eighteenth-century iron poker that sat on a shelf behind me and, brandishing this like a baseball bat, I crept silently through the shop, careful to make no sound. I was sure my hair must be standing straight on end and my heart must be hammering so loudly that the intruder would be able to hear it, but I reached the door to the workshop without mishap.

  I paused, listening. The creak of floorboards came from the room beyond and a low voice uttered something like a curse. Hefting the poker, I called out in a shaky voice, “Who’s there? I’m warning you! You better get out of my shop before I call the police!”

  A moment later, I realized what a monumentally stupid thing that was to do.

  The door burst inward with enough force to slam it back against the wall, rattling the shelves and sending several pieces of my precious merchandise crashing to the floor. I stumbled back in shock, lost my footing, and fell on my ass. The iron poker went rolling out of my hand.

  Two men stepped through the door. They were both tall, muscular—and shockingly good-looking. One was dark haired, the other blond, but both had flawless skin and the kind of chiseled features that adorned the front of magazines. I took all this in in an instant, but all I could think of right now was that these two beautiful assholes were breaking into my shop!

  I scuttled backwards, grabbed the poker, and brandished it at them. “Get out!” I shouted, pleased when my voice didn’t shake. “I won’t ask you again!”