Remnants of Magic (The Sidhe Collection (Urban Fantasy))

by S. Ravynheart

  London left her phone on the dining room table. Even as she approached the door, she rubbed the nervous sweat from her palms onto her hips. With a quick check through her peephole, she verified what she’d assumed. Tall, blond, and delicious was on her threshold. But even knowing he was there, the moment she opened the door to him his presence stole her breath.

  At something close to seven feet tall, Lugh loomed over her. Leaning forward with his arms braced against either side of the doorframe, he made for an imposing figure. All of the Sidhe were sexy beyond reason, and Lugh was no exception. Athletic, with the toned body of a swimmer, there wasn’t an ounce of extra padding. The snug cotton shirt and jeans showed off his physique beautifully. His blond hair was stylishly cut, leaving just enough length that he could hide his elven ears if he wanted to. He wasn’t hiding them tonight. The piercing blue of his eyes struck London with nearly hypnotic force. The deep resonance of his voice captured her completely, “I’ve returned, as I told you I would.”

  London froze when he reached for her. His casual affections still startled her. Her breath caught as he stroked over her hair. A small gesture, but one that soothed the edge of her anxiety. Even still, until she knew for certain how he was going to react to the truth of her past, nothing could ever really make it go away.

  Only on a second glance did she notice the hint of darkness about him, and not just the choice of clothing, which was all black from the denim jacket to his trainers. A slight smudge of dark circles hinted beneath his eyes, as though he were fatigued. And something on his cheek…

  London reached up and brushed it away with her finger.

  Blood.

  Chapter Two

  “A little worse for wear?” She asked, rubbing the blood between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Not mine.” And in his smile, London thought she caught a hint of what Selena had been talking about. Something devious. Lugh leaned closer, blocking the doorway. “May I enter?”

  London backed away. Instinctively, her muscles tensed as they would when she encountered a vampire she didn’t trust. “Then whose blood is it?”

  “A werewolf’s.” He responded matter-of-factly, as if werewolves were a common annoyance and not worth further discussion or explanation. Which in itself shocked London enough that she just stared after him as he made a quick survey of her flat. Werewolves hunted the fey more violently than even vampires. The very scent of the Sidhe could send them into a frenzy, something she hoped to never witness first-hand ever again.

  London knew most of the parahumans in Dublin. Counted many of them as friends and clients before being cursed. This probably wasn’t a stranger’s blood smeared on her fingers.

  Lugh had apparently bested this one without injury to himself. But then again, he was ‘Lugh,’ not one of the young, inexperienced earthborn Sidhe that a werewolf or vampire could overwhelm with their superior strength and speed. This man defeated whole armies without getting his clothes wrinkled, if one believed the myths.

  “Selena spoke of your vocation.” Lugh shifted through the papers on her dining room table. “You track misplaced persons and items?”

  London intercepted him, gathering up the printouts. No point in letting him see just how much she’d researched him. “Yeah. Freelance work mostly.”

  “Personal research?” Apparently he’d seen more than she thought.

  “Just educating myself.”

  A smirk tugged at his lips and something of a dangerous twinkle sparked in his eyes. “And do you feel enlightened?”

  “Not especially.” She deposited the pile onto the seat of one of the chairs. “There isn’t much accurate information about the fey floating about.”

  “Nor would we wish it otherwise.” Lugh hooked his jacket over the spindles on the back of one of the chairs. He rested his backpack on the table and extracted a sheaf of papers. “It is the lack of accurate information that makes the work with which I shall tax you a challenge. These are the only documents I have depicting known relics from the first realm of fey. Easily over ten millennia old. If they still exist, finding them is essential. Do you think your tracking skills might locate some of them?”

  London shifted through the parchments with a professional eye. “I can check with some of my contacts, but most won’t work cheap.”

  From the backpack, Lugh drew out stacks of cash wrapped in bundles. “Cost is not an obstacle.”

  “Holy…” London stared at the growing pile in disbelief. “Where did you get all that?”

  “Do you know what tribute is most commonly gifted to the god of the sun?” He paused only a breath before answering. “Gold. My temples runneth over. I know a dragon with allies who converts it into the common currency.”

  “And you’re just going to run around toting a bag of money with you?” London flipped her thumb along the stacks of notes. The band around each bundle of twenties marked it as 2000 euros. Given the pile on her table, he’d probably unloaded about 50,000 euros in all.

  “Hardly. You are going to use it to see to the expenses, purchase supplies, and allot yourself a generous allowance.” Lugh lightly caressed her short, dark locks again. Then his hand fisted in her hair, getting her undivided attention. His voice deepened, dangerous and edgy. “No more freelance work.” With a serious tilt of his head and glare that tolerated no argument, he added, “Particularly with wizards or Changelings.”

  That stole her spit.

  She had to clear her throat before she could ask, “So Kev told you?” And no doubt the wood elf had known everything about her tarnished reputation, given that he’d apparently been hanging around the Unseelie.

  “What he did not tell me, I suspected.” With the slow roll of his wrist, Lugh angled her neck. He stared at her throat. Lips parted. Fixated, like a vampire.

  For several nerve-wracking seconds London didn’t risk moving. Or even breathing.

  Then his grip relaxed. “But all that happened before.” The predatory glint faded from his eyes. “When you were without guidance.” His voice was not quite so deep now, as the refined accent returned. “When you did not understand your need or the consequences of your actions. By becoming my druidess, you shall be remade, with a new life and a fresh start.” He released her hair. With a relaxed smile, he stroked it smooth one final time before pulling back his hand. His manner shifted back to calm civility as quickly as it had turned treacherous. “But, I require complete devotion and dedication from my druids, if you are still seeking to pledge yourself to me.”

  “Right.” He’d not hurt her, but he’d definitely given her a fright. Knowing that he wasn’t going to up and kill her over her misbegotten past was a relief. But she didn’t doubt that Lugh meant what he’d said. His Touch and his tolerance depended on staying in his good graces.

  But there had been more to it than just the threat. Selena had warned her that something was off with Lugh. Something darker about him. More aggressive. And she’d been right about that.

  Getting a little distance from him, London collected the money into a cloth bag and stashed it for now behind the bottles and cans of cleaning supplies beneath her sink. She’d have to introduce Lugh to the concept of credit cards one of these days. But then again, that was part of her new role, to navigate the technology and modern customs for him, so he wouldn’t have to concern himself with it.

  “Are you ready?” From the breast pocket of his jacket, he withdrew a necklace. Holding the chain so it dangled from his fingers, he showed her the filigree pendant that caught the glints of the light upon its golden surfaces. The pendant was a complicated and delicate knotwork pattern in the shape of the sun.

  “Ready for what?” She stared at the beautiful pendant, and then lifted her gaze to Lugh’s deep blue eyes.

  “In ages past, complicated ceremonial customs accompanied the making of a druid. Severe times deny us such luxuries, but believe it not that it conveys any less of an honor or a responsibility.” Lugh crossed to her and fastened the golden n
ecklace around her neck. “The chain is enchanted and can not be snapped nor drawn over your head, save by your own efforts or mine.” His fingers glided over the chain and brushed against her skin as he traced it from behind her neck down to the pendant, sending a wicked shiver through her. “With this token, I shall always know where to find you. When you invoke my name with urgency, either in thought or aloud, I shall feel your need for me and respond when I am able. This is for use only in dire times, you understand.”

  “I understand,” she breathed the words softly as her fingers caressed over the intricate charm. Of course, she’d read about the artistry of the Sidhe, but as far as she knew, she’d never looked upon one of their pieces. Such fine details. Such delicate craftsmanship. Small but perfect in its endless linking loops and knotwork.

  “Pledge these words to me, if you mean to become my devout druidess.” Lugh’s palm cupped her face, and in the flow of his Touch, words filled her mind.

  This was what she’d been hoping for. What she knew she needed to survive. Accepting Lugh as her patron, and by becoming his druidess, guaranteed the Touch magic she needed to live. Even though he’d unsettled her, London knew no better way. And she’d already tried about every other option she could think of.

  So London repeated the words that danced across her mind, feeling their resonance in the magic between them. “I pledge to you, Lugh Samildanach, that I shall preserve your secrets. I shall honor you above all others and never slander you nor speak to others of our grievances. I shall be the shield at your back and the staff by your side. I pledge to you my life, both in my living and in my dying, always in service to you. Friendship, love, and loyalty, such is my eternal promise.”

  His voice caressed her through his Touch, and she knew when he spoke that he completed some enchantment. “With my symbol, I have marked you. With my magic, I have claimed you. And with your pledge, I have made you my druidess. And so you are an initiate of my temple and of my order, as well as my companion.” He raised her face in his cupped hand and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Not demanding, or even romantic. Just a kiss. And yet a fine one laced with the magic of his Touch that sealed her promise to him.

  Although…

  The magic in his Touch was different this time.

  Before, his Touch flooded her with sunlight and the warm joys of summer.

  This time, the glow had been like black light reflecting off a white shirt. Stark. Surreal. Disturbing.

  When he broke the kiss and released her, London dropped back a step. Getting some breathing room.

  Some of the pledge sounded like parts of the traditional wedding vows, and only as she’d spoken them had she felt the weight of what she was saying. A little unnerved, she gathered the hand drawn pictures he’d laid out for her. Perhaps the familiar distraction of work could settle the quivering uncertainty inside. “Here. Let me scan those images in and do a search. See what I can come up with.”

  She shivered a sigh of relief when Lugh nodded his agreement and took a journal from his bag to read on her sofa. Even knowing that she needed Lugh, and needed this pledge between them to ease her addiction to the Touch, it all seemed too much. Too real. Too much like a dream world was becoming her reality. She’d already come to terms with the fact that ‘normal’ was never coming back. And that who she was becoming wasn’t who she ever thought she’d be. But hooking up with Lugh was supposed to anchor her. It was supposed to ground her. Give her a foundation to stand on. To give her a handle on reclaiming her life. But right now, it really didn’t feel that way.

  It felt like she’d just gotten in way over her head.

  Chapter Three

  Diving into the familiar territory of Internet research, London lost track of time. Hours had passed without her noticing. The early glow of daybreak warmed the windows and chased away the shivers left behind in the wake of Lugh’s Touch. After all, he’d still Touched her. Still gave her the magic she needed. Still kept his promise to become her patron.

  That’s what she needed and wanted, right?

  As the printer kicked out the information that she’d found, London rose and stretched her back. Forcing her stiff body to move, she collected the printouts and walked out to the living room. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she saw Lugh.

  He’d stretched out on the sofa, eyes peacefully closed. London silently watched him. His handsome perfection at rest. Memorizing the way his head lay on her throw pillow, and the artistically messy way his hair fell across his smooth forehead. It was impossible to believe that this man had looked exactly like this thousands of years ago, and that time had left no mark upon him, as if even it were in awe of him, of all the Sidhe, she supposed. But this was the first one she knew for certain had to be one of the ancient ones.

  He shifted, his arm reaching out. She’d not noticed that his eyes had opened a slit and he watched her as she stared at him. His hand continued to reach for her. An offer. Casual and inviting. Patient.

  London left the printout on the end table and then, uncertain about what to expect, she slid her hand into his.

  Lugh pulled her to him, both gentle and insistent. He rolled over, drawing her across and over top of him until she lay on the sofa facing away from him. His body curled against hers— his chest to her back, his lap to her bum, his knees tucked in behind hers. As close as lovers. Lugh wrapped her into his embrace so his arms curled over hers precisely.

  As cozy as the snuggling might be, London felt intimately trapped. She couldn’t wiggle the slightest without the resistance of Lugh’s body. He nestled his face into the hair by her ear, so his warm breath spilled over her neck, giving her goose bumps. A low rumbling, like deep purring or soft growling, hummed against her throat where his mouth rested and resonated between their bodies. But soon the sound stilled and Lugh resumed his even breathing as if he dozed back to sleep.

  She craved the Sidhe; it was something she couldn’t help. Even still, to fall asleep in his arms, embraced like this, would be terribly trusting. London, tired though she was, lay there for awhile considering this. How much did she trust him? How much could she trust him?

  He’d not hurt her. In fact, Lugh treated her with a tenderness no other Sidhe had ever shown her. And yet her instincts kept firing off alarms.

  Given her trust issues, it startled her to discover that she’d napped. But when he stirred, she knew it had awakened her. So she’d evidently surrendered to sleep and to his embrace at some point. London couldn’t be certain how long she’d slept, but as she awoke, Lugh’s warmth and rich summer scent filled her awareness. With his arms still wrapped around her, he drew her in tighter against him. His face nuzzled to her neck. As he flexed his hips, the trapped awakening of his body rubbed firmly against the curve of her bum, and the soft groan let her know that it ached in an enjoyable way. A flush of desire burned through London to feel him hunching his arousal against her. As his hand glided down her side and hip, London twisted in his arms, lifting her face toward him. Her mouth soft and ready.

  But Lugh kissed only her cheek. His deep voice roughened from sleep. “Let us break our fast and begin our labors.” Disentangling himself from London and the sofa, Lugh rose. He offered her a gentlemanly hand, and she hesitated only a moment before accepting. Perhaps the lack of sleep explained his mood the night before. Did the sun Sidhe get grumpy when the sun went down? Anything could be possible with the magic of the fey, and that made as much sense as anything else. That, or perhaps it had been her own innate paranoia when it came to the Sidhe coupled with her exhaustion and Selena’s warning that got her on edge. Lugh certainly seemed as civilized and cultured as ever this morning.

  London went to the kitchen to set out scones and tea. Joining her at the table with his breakfast, Lugh asked, “Did you have success with your magicraft?”

  “With my what?” With her cream tea, London settled in front of her computer. She caught a glimpse of her tousled reflection just before the black screen came to life. Before ven
turing out for the day, she’d need to shower and dress.

  Lugh tapped the top corner of the computer screen.

  “Oh, you mean the laptop. It’s not magic.” She smiled, bringing up the site that she’d saved the night before. She’d made printouts, but the copies were black and white and the resolution hadn’t come out as sharp as she’d hoped. “I scanned the images into the computer and then did an image recognition search on the Internet. See? I’ve found the actual photos of the items from your drawings. This chap has at least five of them.”

  Lugh glanced over the web page and then smiled. “He’s a Scribe.”

  “A historian and a collector of antiquities, actually,” London corrected. “He’s in charge of the collection of Celtic historical treasures near the University College campus in Cork.”

  Lugh repeated. “He’s a Scribe. One of the lesser fey. Myopically large eyes, wide grin, diminutive. You can almost catch the shape of his pointed ears hidden beneath his hair.”

  “Oh.” The man had a vaguely fey-look to him. Not as pronounced as the Sidhe or fairies or one of the other ‘uber pretty’ types of fey. Closer to the cherubic features of the Brownies or leprechauns. “So you know him?”

  “No, but I know someone who might.”

  Chapter Four

  The coastal town of Sneem in the Ring of Kerry was one of the many picturesque villages in Ireland. From the traffic circle in the center of town, London could see the rough grass and rocky hills that walled off the town from the rest of the island. The place embodied the peaceful and beautiful Irish setting that tourists sought from the Emerald Isle. Even the tavern into which Lugh strode possessed a seemingly effortless charm, with its old style wooden furnishings and decor.

  The barkeeper greeted Lugh by name, and then prepared drinks without even asking what he’d prefer, taking only London’s request for a Guinness to add to a tray of four. As Lugh and London settled into a corner booth, the bartender made a ten-second call, and then delivered the drinks to their table. “Jonathan should be along shortly.” London could swear there was a sparkle in his eyes when he glanced at her, and then gave Lugh an exaggerated knowing wink.