Rune Thief: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Isabella Hush Series Book 1)

by Thea Atkinson

  He put a thoughtful thumb on the tip of my chin and ran it along my jawline, stopping to cup me behind my neck where his fingers could knot into my hair. He tugged playfully.

  "Quite delightful," he said.

  I felt sick and if I'd been able to, I'd have run like the girl had. I had to settle for yanking my head sideways despite the pain it brought to my scalp so long as my hair left his grasp and his hand left my skin. The owner of the booth must have recognized the opportunity to increase her profit because she bustled over as though she were somehow responsible for bringing me here in the first place.

  "She's unique," she said to the vampire conspiratorially and, I thought, with a note of possessiveness. I hated that tone.

  "The Shadow Bazaar has not seen her like before."

  She was bluffing. I knew it. I was certain the vampire knew it. But it was part of the game and I understood that as well. Even so, knowing that didn't help my sense of blooming panic.

  The first vampire, who had been hovering at the fringes, trying to look as though he wasn't interested at all, started digging into his pockets. Dear God. He was going to pay for me. Right here, right now and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I bit my lip to keep the sob from escaping.

  Even the lady holding the werewolf back with a thin leash drew closer. The children who hadn't escaped and who ended up tethered again to the bar cringed away from me. They didn't want to get caught in the crossfire. I couldn't blame them for that.

  "You can't just sell me," I said with more bluster than bravery. Even I could hear the tremor in my voice. "I'm a human being."

  The owner murmured something in Latin and clamped a sweaty palm down over my mouth. Just like that, my words died in my throat.

  Witch, my mind whispered. She whispered more in English that sounded like, "Shut up stupid human." There was no talking my way out of this and there was no fighting my way out.

  It didn't stop me from thrashing about and screaming as hard as I could even if the only sound I could make was a deep, throttling groan.

  It had all the result of turning a relatively peaceful transaction into something that resembled chaos.

  I'd be damned if I just let someone pay money for me and lead me out of there on a chain. I kicked out at anything that came near, and there were a lot of things coming near. Too near. Things that looked like men and women but who I knew full well by now were not.

  They all wanted to smell, taste, lick, look at this thing pinned to an iron bar that the witch assured them was special. Whatever they thought I was, they wanted a piece. I heard a riotous bidding begin. The owner's sharp retort that I was worth three times that. Another bid. The first vampire, I thought.

  My vocal chords made some horrible shrieking sound in my throat that didn't make it through my lips. I rattled the chains. Something ran along the base of my neck toward my shoulder. A figure, I hoped, because if it was anything else, I'd lose my mind.

  I whipped around as much as I could, panic making my vision muddy. I kicked and tried to buck my way out of the handcuffs. Brought down a tiny creature that had flitted close to my heel. I might have stomped on it.

  The bids rushed out, gaining momentum.

  I was done for. I could sense it. The first vampire whispered in my ear.

  "You're mine."

  CHAPTER 25

  A STRANGELY ETHEREAL man the width of a splinter came out of nowhere in the air in front of me and grabbed me by the throat. I went dead cold.

  I might have lost the last shred of my sanity except for a sound that throttled through the courtyard. It could've been the trumpet of Gideon for all I knew, or the warbling of the horn that leveled Jericho. Everyone fell back as though they were the walls of that ancient city crumbling beneath the blast.

  I looked up to see Maddox strolling down one of the side streets toward us through the narrow chasm left by the shopkeepers and their minions who had thrown themselves at me. Something hung from his shoulder on a leather strap. It looked for all the world like one of those old-fashioned gunpowder horns. Whatever it was, it was nothing to the way the crowd reacted to his swaggering presence.

  They might have been scorched by a stream of boiling water; they gasped as one unit, and fell back in a wave. Several of the booth owners cringed away or busied themselves with inspecting their merchandise. The woman with the wolf tugged on its leash and disappeared behind a wall of black, dripping candles.

  "What's going on here?" Maddox said.

  The proprietress pointed a shaking finger at me. "Her," she said. "She ruined my product. Set a good deal of them free. She's mine now."

  The sound went up of assent throughout the courtyard as every booth owner supported her.

  "That's no way to treat a guest," he said.

  Even though he hadn't raised his voice, most of the shopkeepers looked as though they had been scolded by an angry parent. Those who didn't, just looked plain scared. The terrifyingly pale man who held me by the throat hissed in my face and then shrank away to disappear behind his stall. The rest of them followed suit and I could see them all cowering next to their booths as Maddox strolled toward me.

  One quick flash went through my mind. They were scared of him. This was a man to reckon with, and I needed to remember he could make supernatural things cower.

  The only one who didn't was the witch.

  "Guest," she said. "You asked her here?"

  He nodded but I was sure he refused to look at me because he was afraid she'd see the lie in his face.

  "My product," she persisted. "She freed them."

  "You should know I wouldn't let any of your more profitable items just escape."

  He waved a hand over his head and the dozens of children who'd fled off in every direction now exited the mouth of a nearby door, led out in chains by a ghostly looking wisp of a man. He looked very much like the one who had gripped me by the throat.

  I prayed there was just one of them and eyed the stall the wispy man had disappeared behind to be sure there was only one of them that had somehow re-located. No such luck. The first one still peered over his counter at me.

  I shivered involuntarily as the wispy gentleman holding onto the children broke into dozens of clones and re-chained them to the witch's bar before re-assembling himself and staring at Maddox expectantly.

  As sick as I felt to see a man split into several copies of himself, it was nothing to how I felt at the way each of the children—even the young girl—accepted their fate without protest. I stoppered down the disquieting sense of worry that Maddox could command a creature like that so easily because at least he might also be able to do the same to the witch.

  Not so. I would have thought the witch would be pleased at the return of her goods. Instead she glared at Maddox.

  "Humans do not come here of their own volition. They don't come here and live," she said.

  "It's my bazaar," Maddox said. "My rules." He held her eye with an intensity that made several owners shuffle their feet and make themselves busy at their stalls. Not the witch, however. She met it brazenly.

  "So she's either not human," she said. "Or she is here for your pleasure or profit. Which is it?"

  He cocked a russet eyebrow. "Emissary, actually. Not that it's any of your business, Evelina."

  He gave her a look of disappointment that finally made her wither backwards.

  Whatever it implied, had unsettled her, it was obvious. She flicked her gaze at me, and it ran the length of my body from hair to heel. She didn't seem impressed by what she saw, but she reluctantly stepped close enough to run her hand over the locks. They fell free with a thunk to the ground.

  I rubbed my wrists, avoiding the mark on my forearm where the sorcerer had placed his tracking tattoo. Not yet, I told myself. I needed to make sure Maddox still had the tile, then I'd call down that bastard and be done with all this.

  She stepped aside as Maddox closed the distance between us. He leaned in sideways toward me without taking his eyes off t
he witch.

  I should have been relieved to see him, but I wasn't. Fear gave way to anger at the whole thing. Never mind I had put myself in this predicament; I wouldn't be here if not for him.

  "You," I said looking up at him and finding a carefully guarded expression that did nothing to impress me. In fact, it infuriated me. "You owe me."

  I had to hold up a flap of my shirt that had been torn away from my shoulder. I noted that his gaze flicked to the curve of my breast and then back to my face but I could see there was a hunger there in his jawline.

  "You stole something from me," I said with a bravado that thankfully carried in my tone if it didn't steel my spine. "The Odin Rune. I want it back."

  His hand snaked out so fast, I didn't get a chance to react before it gripped me by the elbow hard enough that I bit my tongue. Water stung my eyes. But I wouldn't cower like the rest of them. I couldn't show fear.

  "Are you trying to get killed?" he hissed, drawing me away beneath a pool of viscous and hateful glares.

  "Funny you should say that," I said.

  He was already shuffling me through the streets, nodding at his shopkeepers. "I took the damn thing to protect you. Now be quiet." he growled into my ear. "We'll go somewhere safe to talk."

  I dared to yank my arm away as I halted like a mule in the street.

  So he did have it. And he had the nerve to tell me he stole it for my benefit. My benefit, when I had just almost been sold to God knew what kind of creatures.

  "What is it you sell?" I demanded. No doubt he had a booth somewhere in the back shadowy areas. I wouldn't doubt he had the rune displayed ever so nicely with a hefty price tag.

  "I sell space. I sell safety. Protection."

  "Sounds like the Mafia," I said, glaring at him.

  He shrugged. "I give them space to peddle and protection to do so without interference. But I'm no mafia."

  Scottie wasn't mafia either, but that didn't mean a damn thing.

  "So you're trying to tell me you're a good guy."

  He leveled an impatient but tolerant glance at me. "There are no good guys. Now come with me."

  "I don't have time to visit or to talk," I said. "I need it back. And I need it now."

  He dragged me rather than walked me three feet sideways into an alley where only half a dozen stalls hunkered against the walls of buildings. It smelled of urine and roasted pig. One shop looked like it was made out of human skin. I wavered on my feet.

  "You're lucky I found you," he said.

  I yanked my hand out of his grip. Stumbled a few steps sideways as he released me.

  "I wouldn't call what I am lucky at the moment," I said.

  He looked me over up and down, and there was something in that gaze that made me both uncomfortable and warm. My throat started to ache when he reached out to lift the flap of torn cloth and tucked it beneath my bra strap.

  "You're the girl from Errol's shop," he said. "The one with the wig."

  There was a thoughtful look behind his eyes. I imagined he was remembering how I looked then with the blonde wig and the thigh-high boots. I felt myself flush beneath that gaze.

  I raced through my memory to find Errol leaning over a counter, his thin lips wet with desire. The smell of the candy floss at the door, of all the ginger and cinnamon. The embrace of chocolate. I shuddered because I'd never be able to smell those things again without thinking of the man.

  "Disgusting. A man like him should be jailed."

  "He's not a man. Just stupid. He's always been stupid. An incubus with his power stripped. He's always on the look out for that one person who can help him get them back. That's why he's in the business."

  I blinked as I tried to work through that. "He's not human?"

  "Few of them are. It's a good business to be in. Sometimes mundanes find something they shouldn't and he gives us a chance to reclaim it."

  "You say us," I said, narrowing my gaze.

  He nodded at me as though he was surprised I hadn't figured it out. Maybe I would have if I wasn't still trying to make peace with the fact that the world could be something other than normal.

  "We have a franchise of shops. That pawnshop I first saw you in? Leased to a shifter."

  "A shifter?"

  I staggered backwards, trying to replay every transaction I'd made to see if there were hints of supernatural in them. I'd been oblivious, obviously. But then maybe there'd been nothing to notice. If supernatural things had been slithering around in the normal realm unseen all these years, maybe centuries, maybe longer, then they will no doubt good at camouflage.

  It was a disquieting thought.

  "And those kids," I said throwing my hand in the direction of the courtyard. "Innocent children, and you brought them right back to the insulting party. You don't even care they'll be sold?"

  His russet eyebrow quirked. "Who said I didn't care?"

  "You could've done something."

  He turned toward where the crowd and the market that was still buzzing with activity, the vampires and proprietress trying to collect up one particularly quick child who had avoided recapture and was darting around and knocking things over. I smiled as I noticed it was the teen aged boy. He was fast. Not fast enough, though. A ridiculously huge looking man grabbed him from behind and carried him like a flour sack back to Evelina.

  I felt something within me sag.

  "Oh," I said. I wasn't sure why I thought he might get away. It was futile. All of it. The quicker I was done with this the better.

  "So," I said. "Where's my tile?"

  Maddox reached behind his back and ran his hand over one of those locked doors. It evaporated much like the Portal had when I'd come in.

  I thought for a long moment. Then I shook my head. I didn't think I could go through that again.

  A wicked grin slid over his face. "It won't be anything like the entryway to the Bazaar," he said. "We don't like those to come through who should not be here."

  I cocked my head sideways, studying him. "You say we?"

  He spread his hands wide. "I should have said me. This is my bazaar."

  I balked as his hand found the small of my back and he tried to guide me through the doorway.

  He slipped that hand over my flank and tugged me close, almost playfully.

  "I promise you nothing will happen to you that you don't want to happen to you."

  I pulled away, confused at my own reaction to his touch. I back-stepped two paces into the street. Distance made me feel less befuddled.

  He sighed and looked over his shoulder at me.

  "Suit yourself," he said then stepped through into the darkness.

  If I wanted that tile back, I guess I had no choice. I looked down at my phone timer. Ten hours left? How had time moved that fast already?

  I stepped over the threshold behind him to face whatever was inside.

  CHAPTER 26

  I EXPECTED THE INTERIOR to be dark and gloomy but it shifted as quickly as I got across the threshold.

  I stepped out of the coolness of the alleyway where the breeze bit into more than skin and into a room that was cozy and warm. Books lined shelves on every wall. Above me walls of spines lined an open concept second floor balcony. A third floor above that, same deal. Iron railings wound about the entire room, revealing that what waited above us weren't rooms and floors at all, but a spiraling staircase that circled one massive chamber with stages of balconies. What was up above the third level, I couldn't tell, but it was shadowy up there. I thought I heard whispers leaking down, and the hairs on my arms stood on end.

  This was no place for a regular gal, no matter how welcoming it appeared.

  He seemed to notice the direction of my gaze.

  "Nothing up there that would interest you," he said and crossed the room to an open hearth fireplace book-ended by two great leather chairs.

  He lifted a thick cushion from one of them and smacked it with his palm to fluff it into shape. Apparently satisfied with its state of comfort, he
then placed it back onto the chair and spread his arm over it, indicating that I should sit.

  I looked at him for a long moment before I decided to do just that. My legs were quivering with the release of so much adrenaline all at once and far too frequently. If I didn't sit, I'd fall.

  The fire leapt to crackling life when I did. It was disconcerting but I appreciated it in light of the contrast of my frayed nerves. I thought whatever magic let him do it, I wouldn't complain. It was very much like a library of old, meant to make the person within feel comfortable and safe.

  Then I wondered what the place might truly look like if he was trying to make me feel safe.

  "Is this a trick?" I said touching the edge of the leather chair. It felt real enough.

  "A trick?" he said. "You think I'm some sort of a witch or a warlock?"

  I just stared at him. I didn't know what the difference was. Didn't think I needed to care. Actually, I decided I didn't want to know. I already knew too much. I didn't want to get comfortable with the notion of magic or supernatural entities slipping in and out of my life.

  He seemed to take my silence for an accusation and sighed.

  "Despite your folklore, not many creatures have the ability to glamour things. What you see here is real." He jerked his chin toward the hearth. "The fireplace has a timer."

  "So you can't glamour things is what you're telling me." I squirmed in the chair as I thought of my demand from the sorcerer and realizing why he might have been so quick to agree to it. The sudden flush of heat from the fire made my face far too hot for comfort. I waved a hand in front of my face and eyed him warily.

  "So what are you?"

  His mouth twitched almost playfully. "I've asked the same of you."

  I lifted my chin. "You already know what I am."

  His gaze trailed to my throat and the pulse I knew was pounding out a choppy rhythm. The way his gaze remained on it did nothing to calm it down.