Storybound

by Emily Mckay

  He gives me one of those looks again. “Sure, you can.”

  “I can. You didn’t even know that the Sleeker Detention is on Gull Veston Island.”

  He smirks. “Now I do.”

  “But you don’t know where the island is. Or about the magic barriers protecting the island, or the cliffs of insanity or—”

  “Man, you talk a lot.”

  “Wait!” I call after him. “You can’t go to Morgan’s.”

  He stops in his tracks, slowly turns toward me, and narrows his gaze. “Why do you think that’s where I’m going?”

  “Duh. Because that’s where you go in the book. You go to his house on the lake, but there are a pair of Kellas cats staking out his place. They attack you both. Morgan is injured. He can’t go with you to rescue the princess. And trust me, when you get to the island, you will wish Morgan was there.”

  After a second, he nods. “Okay. You can come.” Then he pauses. “But first we need to do something to disguise you from hellhounds.”

  I perk up. “Like a rune?”

  He rolls his eyes. “No. For Thread’s sake, no. Something a little less permanent.” He nods toward a shelf behind me. “Grab that blue bottle.”

  I reach for a bottle of bright blue liquid.

  “No! Not that one. That’s activated bluestone.”

  “So?”

  “It’ll dissolve your skin.”

  “Oh.”

  “The pale blue one. To the left.”

  This time I reach for a dusty blue bottle and bring it to him. “Do I drink it?”

  He gives me another look like I’m a moron. “You rub it on your skin. It’ll cover the scent of your Dark Worlder blood. It’ll confuse the hellhounds.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I pull off the cap and give it a whiff, only to be hit with a nose-numbing scent of mint. “What is this made of? Pure mint?”

  He smirks. “It better not be. That would really piss the Kellas cats off. They do not like mint.”

  I pour some onto my hand, cringing as I rub it on my exposed skin. “Why would that matter? Aren’t we going to Gull Veston Island to rescue the princess?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then where—”

  “We’re going to Morgan’s.”

  “But that’s where the Kellas cats are.”

  “Exactly. If you’re right and there are a pair of Kellas cats staking out the place, then we’ll talk.”

  Excerpt from

  Book Five of The Traveler Chronicles:

  The Traveler Undone

  I don’t admire a lot of people. Fearsome magical power doesn’t impress me.

  The High King—he had all kinds of power. Shake the earth, raise the oceans, bring down civilizations kind of power. He was also an ass. And, frankly, a little stupid. I mean, come on, his wife swapped his dying infant with a Dark Worlder changeling and it took him eight years to notice?

  So no, I don’t admire raw power. Wizards with raw power are a dime a dozen.

  But brains? That I can get behind.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The wards placed around Kane’s loft make it extremely difficult to loop-jump in and out. It’s one of the reasons The Volume Arcana is open to the public. Loop-jumping in public spaces is easy.

  But instead of pulling a loop as soon as he reaches the first floor, Kane heads for the door.

  I have to hurry to reach him before he steps out onto the street. His stupid long legs don’t help, either.

  “Wait, hold up.”

  He hesitates, shooting me a disgruntled glare. “What?”

  “Aren’t you going to…?” I glance toward the counter. Gus McCreeperson is behind the counter again. I make a circle with my four fingers and thumbs, miming pulling a loop. “You know.”

  Kane rolls his eyes. “Do you mean why are we not just going to loop-jump to Morgan’s place? Yeah. Gus knows what I do. It would be a little hard to keep that from him.”

  “Okay then. Why aren’t we going to loop-jump to Morgan’s place?”

  “For starters, Morgan is a prince of the Nawlins Court. He has more wards around his place than the average high-security prison. Secondly, I’m tired.”

  “But—”

  “Those books that you claim detail every aspect of my life? Did they happen to mention that it takes a hell of a lot of energy to loop-jump anywhere?”

  “Well, yes.” Kane seems to take this as enough of an explanation and walks off, but I’m not done yet. “Wait—”

  He pauses by the door. “Yeah?” He draws out the word like he’s talking to a moron.

  I cross the length of the store, all too aware of creepy Gus behind the counter. “If we’re going to work together, I need reassurances.”

  “You need reassurances? Five minutes ago”—he jabs a thumb in the direction of the stairs—“you were begging me to bring you. Now you want reassurances?”

  “Okay, what I meant was, I would like more information.” He quirks an eyebrow, but I don’t give him another chance to snark-slap me. “What exactly is your relationship with the princess?”

  “I don’t have a relationship with the princess. She’s a princess. I’m a mercenary.” He smirks, like he enjoys throwing that word back in my face. “End of story.”

  “But she was in a cage in your building.” Gus is just standing there at the desk, looking back and forth between the two of us. I take a step closer to Kane and lower my voice. “I get that it was a Faraday Cage, so maybe it has protective qualities. But she did not seem happy to be there.”

  Still no response from Kane.

  “I don’t think I can condone that kind of behavior.”

  This time he turns and walks for the door. “You coming or not?”

  I so don’t know what to say in response. I even look to Gus, who just shrugs.

  “Just give me something to work with here.”

  He stops so quickly, I nearly run into his back. “You want something to work with? Work with this: I don’t need you to come with me. You begged me to come. So either come or don’t.”

  I don’t have a lot of options here. So I follow him. Besides, the last time I was out on the streets, I was attacked by hellhounds. Kane may not be forthcoming, but being with him is safer than getting mauled to death. I think.

  …

  It doesn’t take long to confirm I was right. This is not the kind of place a girl wants to walk around alone.

  The Volume Arcana is in a neighborhood that makes Bourbon Street look like Main Street Disneyland.

  The Kingdoms of Mithres have been without a ruler for over a year now. In the power vacuum left by the king’s death, the seven High Courts were wrangling for position, each determined to seize power. Things might have been okay, if the Curator had been around. She was the one person who could read the blood of any contender for the throne and know instantly if he or she had enough power to rule the Kingdoms. If she declared a High King or Queen, no one—not even the princes or princesses of the seven High Courts—would dispute that person’s claim to the throne.

  But in the books, the Curator had disappeared right after the High King died. With no real leader and the Seven Courts all fighting among themselves, things had gotten bad. It might be different along the East and West coast, where the Red Court and the Han Court still hold so much sway, but here in the middle of the country, the cities are ruled by gangs, thugs, and minor corporations, all fighting for whatever power they can hold on to.

  So I’m relieved when an older model limo pulls up beside us almost immediately. When the vehicle pulls to a stop, Kane opens the rear passenger door and holds it open for me to climb inside. Kane gets in after me and the limo is moving again before Kane can even shut the door. I don’t know how or when Kane summoned the limo, but I’m thankful to be off the streets.

 
There’s one other person in the back, and I recognize him instantly—Morgan Geroux.

  Morgan slides over to make room for us, moving himself onto the bench seat that runs the length of the limo. I end up wedged into the corner with Kane on one side and Morgan on the other. It’s a good thing I’m small, because neither of them is. Their legs take up all the floor space.

  If there are subtle differences between the Kane of the books and the Kane I now know, the same is not true of Morgan. Morgan is Kane’s best friend and one of the few people in this world who is more powerful than Kane. Morgan is a timekeeper. He can manipulate and control the flow of time, able to travel freely within the span of his lifetime.

  Morgan is exactly the way Wallace describes him. He’s wearing dress pants and a crisp striped shirt with a jaunty little scarf. It’s a look very few straight human men could have pulled off, but it doesn’t undermine Morgan’s masculinity at all, probably because he’s so ridiculously handsome. His cheekbones look like they’ve been carved from granite. His dreadlocks fall just past his shoulders, and his eyes are a startling green that looks exotic against his tawny skin.

  He looks like a young Lenny Kravitz, if Lenny Kravitz had been sprinkled with fairy dust and therefore became inexplicably more beautiful and cooler than any normal human could be.

  So basically, he looks like Lenny Kravitz.

  As soon as Kane closes the door behind him, Morgan flicks on the overhead light. Then he angles himself away from me so that he can lean forward to study me through a narrowed, intense gaze.

  Maybe Morgan has never seen a Dark Worlder before. Maybe my “stubby” Dark Worlder looks are repulsive to someone of his lean Tuathan heritage. I would suspect he’s just insufferably rude, but after several long heartbeats, a slow, bemused smile creeps across his face. Shaking his head a little, he chuckles, seemingly delighted.

  Beside me, Kane clears his throat. Morgan blinks, as if waking from a trance, then he stretches his arm out along the bench seat.

  If I didn’t know better—if I hadn’t been reading about Morgan Geroux for the past six years—I would have sworn he was trying to play it cool.

  “Well,” he says, turning to Kane with an arched eyebrow. “Where’d you get the cupcake?”

  Kane makes a snorting noise that could be laughter or derision. Hard to say.

  Me, I’m just tired of being treated like a freak.

  “Okay,” I protest. “I’ve about had it with the cupcake thing. What is up with that?”

  Morgan raises a sardonic eyebrow and then looks pointedly at my chest.

  “What?” I ask.

  His lips twitch. And again, his gaze drops to my chest.

  Only then do I look down…and remember I’m wearing the Hello, Cupcake! T-shirt I bought from the famous Austin food truck. It’s a pale green, girl-cut T-shirt with the company’s logo emblazoned across the front. A giant pink-frosted cupcake.

  Great. Just great. Way to be a badass.

  Before I can burst into flames of embarrassment, Morgan extends his hand. “Well, Cupcake, I’m—”

  “You’re Morgan Geroux. Of the Houston Gerouxes. You’re known for your charm, your gambling, your wit, and your occasional disregard for the laws of the Kingdoms of Mithres.”

  I expect Morgan to be surprised by my knowledge, but he just turns to Kane, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze, and drawls, “Well, she’s interesting. Where’d you find her?”

  “I didn’t. She found me.”

  It takes Kane a lot less time to explain the events of the evening than it would have taken me. Morgan takes it all in stride, as though Dark Worlders wandering over thresholds, powerful princesses being dragged off by hellhounds, and finding out his best friend stars in a fantasy series is just a fun diversion for a Friday night.

  “Can she be trusted?” Morgan asks.

  “Hey, I’m not the one who’s untrustworthy here! I’m not the one who locks women up in cages.”

  Morgan looks from me to Kane and then back again. “I sense there’s a story here.”

  I explain about the cage the princess was in when I found her.

  Morgan looks at Kane and clucks his tongue disapprovingly. “And you let her think that you’d locked the princess up?”

  Kane shrugs, looking out the window.

  Morgan takes my hand in both of his and says, “My dear, the last time I saw the princess, she was in Kane’s apartment, ordering him around like he was a servant. That was yesterday morning. They were supposed to leave for Saint Lew today. Then I got a call from Kane this morning to tell me someone kidnapped her from his apartment while he was gone.”

  “Then why was she still in the building?” I ask. Morgan starts to speak, but I answer my own question before he can. “Unless whoever was kidnapping her didn’t have a chance to get her out of the building before Kane came home. Or he thought that hiding her in plain sight would make it harder for Kane to track her.”

  Morgan smiles at Kane. “She’s very quick, isn’t she?”

  I twist, pulling my right leg up onto the seat beside me so I can jab a finger at Kane. “You couldn’t just tell me that? ‘Edie, I didn’t trap the princess in that cage.’ How is that hard?”

  Morgan gives my shoulder a playful bump. “Don’t be too tough on him. He has trust issues. Which I assume you know about, if you’ve read all about his life.”

  There’s something unexpected behind Morgan’s smooth charm. A glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

  But he’s definitely playing me. No doubt about that.

  “Look,” I say to him, because I don’t want him to think he’s getting away with it. “I know how this goes. I’ve read this scene in about fifteen other books.”

  “What scene?” he asks.

  “The scene where the charming sidekick vouches for his best friend.”

  “Sidekick?” Morgan presses a hand to his chest. “Oh, you wound me.”

  “Yeah. Sure. My point is, it doesn’t matter if you vouch for him if I don’t trust you, either.”

  Morgan grins at Kane. “I think I like this Cupcake of yours.”

  “Hey—” I point a finger at Morgan. “Enough with the cupcake thing. In my own world, I’m a real badass.” Sort of. “I know how to defend myself.”

  Morgan raises his eyebrows again.

  Kane shrugs. “She’s not entirely useless.”

  “Okay then, Cupcake Badass, you’re in.” Then Morgan looks at Kane. “Can I assume you’re here because you need me to do the tracking spell for you?”

  I don’t give Kane a chance to answer. “Actually, I know where the princess is.”

  “Then, why do you need me?”

  “So Cupcake Badass here can prove she knows what’s going to happen over the next few days.”

  I jump in to explain. “In the book, Kane contacts you and has you meet him at your house, where you’re ambushed by a pair of Kellas cats.”

  “Kellas cats, huh?” Morgan raises an eyebrow. “Only two? Because a dowt of Kellas cats has three or more.”

  “In the book, it’s just two.”

  “Well, shall we go and have a look?” Morgan taps on the glass and the window separating us from the driver parts slightly. “Drive back to the house.”

  A few minutes later, we pull into a residential neighborhood. Kane turns to the driver and says, “When you get half a block away, pull over and let me out.”

  “Wait, you can’t face a pair of Kellas cats alone,” I protest.

  “Does it kill me?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  Kane gives a cocky shrug. “Then apparently I can face a pair of Kellas cats alone.”

  And before I can protest, the limo stops in front of a sprawling lakeside mansion and Kane is out the door.

  Kellas cats are rogue creatures. They’re smarter than hellhoun
ds, hired muscle with bad attitudes and sharp claws. If you happen to be one of the few people with the gift of mastering cats, you essentially have to bend their will to yours. They never stop resenting their master, which means even the people who hire them don’t like to be alone with them. No one voluntarily faces them alone.

  Except Kane.

  Shocked, I look over at Morgan. “Aren’t you going to help him?”

  Morgan gives an exaggerated shudder. “Oh, heavens, no. I can’t stand Kellas cats. My mother had a dowt when I was a child. They used to sleep on my chest at night, hoping I’d die in my sleep so they could steal my soul. Horrid things.”

  “He’s your best friend!” I protest. I stare out the window, dread pumping through my veins. I whirl on Morgan. “You’ve got to do something!”

  Morgan quirks an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine what you think I could do.”

  “Get out and help him! Fight with him! He’s going up against at least two Kellas cats. No one could survive against those odds.”

  “My point exactly.” Morgan shifts his shoulder in a gesture as apathetic as his tone. “I doubt an extra person will make a difference.”

  “I can’t even—” I stutter. “This is bullshit.”

  Without thinking, I do the unthinkable. I throw open the door and run out into the night.

  Despite what he just said, part of me expects Morgan to follow. He doesn’t. Asshole.

  Outside the car, it’s dark. Only the limo’s headlights illuminate the sprawling oaks. It’s barely enough to give me the lay of the land. Morgan’s house is a masterpiece of joyless modern architecture, all sharp metal, poured concrete, and brittle glass. The landscaping is as austere as the architecture and offers little cover. Kane is striding across the lawn with a confidence that borders on arrogance. Or stupidity.

  I try to cut him off from the danger, but he’s so much taller than I am that I don’t even come close to matching his stride.

  He’s almost to the tree where the first of the Kellas cats is hiding. Before I can call out a warning, Kane stops and calls out. “Cat of the Kells, if you hear my voice, reveal yourself and speak to me.”