Curse of Iron

by D. D. Miers

  I cinched up the shoes but skipped the hose, and applied a light dusting of the pink, pearlescent powder Sylvie had pushed on me as I was leaving her place to my eyelids and cheekbones, making them shimmer. The pink made the grey of my eyes look almost as silver as they did when my magic was active. Simple mascara was enough to frame my eyes and make them look even larger and more exotic and I had to remind myself looking Fae didn’t mean looking out of place where I was going.

  I felt too naked to leave the apartment without my athame, so I pulled enough of my hair up to wind the sheath through it as a hair stick and slid the knife in to it. The wooden handle was a little "nature fairy" amidst the glitz and glam of the gown, but as I examined my reflection, champagne fabric hugging my body and the curves the corset gave me, the slit showing more leg than I felt comfortable with. It was so high it nearly flashed the small tattoo I had gotten to honor my mother, a hummingbird with metallic wings drinking from a lotus flower.

  The crisscrossed front amplified my breasts without them spilling out, and the low back, though it made it impossible to carry an extra weapon, made me feel daring and sexy. I looked at the mirror one more time, calling my power as I did. My skin began to glow softly, and my eyes burned with silver light. For the first time, I saw the High Fae in me, the Seelie fairy that could seduce a man and leave him elf struck.

  I had never thought I was ugly, I simply hadn’t thought of how I looked at all, beyond comfort and public decency. Survival had taken too much of my time and energy to worry about learning to glamor, except to make myself invisible. But in the shimmering dress, I was anything but.

  My phone buzzed at me as I was wiping down my arm with witch hazel and Helichrysum flower oil to speed the healing. I’d cut deeper than I intended near the wrist, so I wrapped a pale gold scarf around it like a wide cuff and tucked the ends in. It sure wouldn’t do to get blood on the borrowed dress.

  I walked around the apartment again, checking my barriers. Nothing magical was getting in again. The phone buzzed again reminding me I hadn’t checked it. Grayson had texted twice, offering to pick me up. Once he had me, I would be at his mercy, just like I had been the night before.

  No thanks, I’ll meet you there. I had a very human moment of needing to justify saying no, but anything I’d add would’ve been too close to a lie, so I left it and wondered if shifters were as sensitive to offense as humans tend to be.

  “You need your own wheels. Besides, once you tell him it was a warlock, who knows what rabbit hole he’s going to want to drag you down,” I said aloud before I added one last layer of magic over the rest. If anyone entered my apartment without me releasing the spell, not even warlock magic would stop my plants from ensnaring them and tearing them limb from limb.

  It was overkill, but in two days I’d had a warlock break into my home, with the assumption he’d done it twice, leaving a dead guy in my bed, and then trying to blast me in the ass while I tried to take a shower. Fuck building codes. If he came back, the whole place was going down around him.

  But it was hard to lock the door behind me and tuck my keys into the little gold and silver clutch next to my phone. I was struck by the feeling I wasn’t going to see it again, at least not as it was. I fought the urge to turn around and leave some lights on. But some monsters aren’t scared of the light. They hide in plain sight and hunt you without you ever knowing they have you in their crosshairs. Still, I was thinking of it as I got in the car. Had he returned, despite my best magic? Was he waiting for my return, so he could finish what he started?

  A shudder ran through me and made my still empty stomach twist on itself. A quick trip through the Popeyes drive-thru for a sweet tea and I was on my way, too afraid of ruining the dress to get any food.

  The ballroom was lit like a movie premier or a new club opening, with prominent members of the supernatural world being escorted from limos and up a red carpet. Bouncers in black on black suits lined the steps up to the door, where invitations were checked before guests could enter.

  “Oh, shit.” I parked across the street to avoid the embarrassment of being in line with all the high-end cars waiting on the valets. I sent a quick text to Grayson to let him know I’d arrived and ask where to meet him. I was so unnerved by the prospect of going in, I almost forgot to make sure Detective Mills was nowhere in sight before I got out of the car.

  By the time I’d done a perimeter check and locked the car, securing the keys back in the nearly useless clutch, he’d found me. I took a few steps toward the curb before I realized he wasn’t walking with me.

  “Grayson?” I looked back at him, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open. “Grayson, it can’t be that bad.”

  He laughed, a sound deeply masculine and satisfied. “Bad? No, I wouldn’t say it’s bad, except for maybe every guy who leers at you tonight who isn’t me.” I blushed at the compliment and cleared my throat.

  “Okay, thanks, we should get inside. The detective who brought me in for, uh, you know, has been stalking me ever since.” I took the arm he offered and leaned in close. “And something happened you should know, but I want to be inside before I talk about it.”

  He pressed his free hand over my fingers as if to tell me he understood, and I felt his body go taut and aware of everything around us. When had anyone been so frankly protective of me?

  He leaned down as we waited in line to enter and whispered in my ear. “You look good enough to eat. You should stay close to me tonight.”

  “I don’t know anyone else here, Grayson. Staying with you is pretty much a given.”

  He laughed softly, raising goosebumps on my arms. “Don’t worry. By the end of tonight, you’ll know more people than you care to.” I groaned, and his shoulders shook as he handed the doorman his invitation. “Hey Ben. Looking good.” The man stood a little straighter and puffed out his chest.

  “Thanks, man.” He beamed at us. “I appreciate the good word you put in.” Grayson just patted the man on the arm and led me inside.

  “You know," he murmured into my hair as I stared at the opulent gold filigree in the domed ceiling and the light glittering on a thousand crystals hanging from the chandeliers, “we could just leave now, go somewhere alone, and you could tell me your big secret.”

  I shoved him and tried to hide the warmth creeping up my chest to my face. “What I have to tell you is not going to make you feel sexy, Grayson.”

  “Right now, you could tell me anything and I bet it would.”

  I pulled him aside and hugged myself. “You’ve trusted me, so I’m going to trust you.” I unwound my makeshift bandage and showed him my arm. “I just had to use blood magic, and a lot of it, to re-ward my apartment after a warlock suddenly appeared and tried to blow my head off with raw power.”

  He traced the thin line on my wrist, now only a couple of inches long. His face was thoughtful, neutral. “Do you think he killed Gideon?”

  “I think it would answer the question of how a body appeared in my room, with no apparent injury or cause of death.”

  He sighed and stroked my hair, his fingers stopping at my knife before continuing to my neck. “No one can harm you here.” He cleared his throat and watched someone from over my head. “No one.”

  My head jerked automatically to where he’s looking. Aunt Portia climbed the stairs to our level, smiling and nodding at the people who greeted her like she was the fucking queen of San Francisco. I turned back to him, teeth clenched, and forced myself to take a long, steady breath.

  “I certainly hope there aren’t any more nasty surprises, Grayson. I could really use a little good luck for once.” His hand skimmed my waist and he arched an eyebrow at me. “I need a stiff drink.”

  We walked into the ballroom and he immediately steered me toward the buffet tables and all the delicacies artfully arranged on them. I didn’t know whether to follow human etiquette and only take an item or two or to allow myself Fae honesty and eat until I wasn’t hungry.

  I was still debating over
the caviar when I felt Grayson stiffen beside me. Approaching us was a group of gorgeous women. Shenna I recognized, but she and two others followed the fourth like ducklings trailing their mother.

  The woman in the middle of the gaggle of girls was the one who’d caught Grayson’s attention, along with every other hot-blooded heterosexual being in the ballroom. I couldn’t blame him. Her hair was the color of platinum that was either rare and natural, or incredibly expensive. Her large, full mouth was the color of ripe black plums, and her eyes were so green they looked like emeralds.

  Her skin was gold, not tan, but gold, and as she got closer I smelled the first flowers of spring and first flowing water after the thaw. “Grayson, darling, I’m so glad you decided to come after all.” She kissed the air next to his cheeks and hugged him. “How are you feeling, Love?”

  I bristled at the open affection in her voice but pushed my feelings aside. “Are you going to introduce us, Grayson?”

  “Oh, sorry, I guess I just assumed you’re so famous you don’t need to be introduced to anyone.” He took the beautiful woman’s hand. “Morgana, daughter of the Storm King, I’d like to introduce you to Freya Masters.”

  My jaw hit the floor and I was paralyzed, unable to pick it up. How could anyone think Gideon Masters would step out on his wife with someone who looked like me? “Uh, Mrs. Masters, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too. Any, ah, friend of Grayson’s is automatically family, you know.” She straightened her soft, pink dress out and glanced toward her followers. The ladies I hadn’t met yet shot me a twin pair of grins, but Shenna curled her lip at me, showing her teeth. Her dislike of me seemed so normal and understandable in all of it, it made me smile back at her.

  “I’m sorry it’s under less than exceptional circumstances, though.”

  “Grayson told me you found Gideon’s body.”

  I nodded. “I didn’t really know him, though. He was friends with my boss.” She nodded at me and took a plate, loading it up with food as she chatted with me.

  Before I knew it, my plate was as full of delicacies from all over the world and I was sitting at a corner table with her as she told me about life in the Appalachian Mountains before she met Gideon and moved to the west coast.

  Her interest in me made me feel shy like I’d been singled out by the prom queen for attention. Grayson took up a position behind me, I thought it was to watch her until I glanced up to see him scanning the room in a continuous pattern. Holy shit, he’s protecting us…protecting me. The widow of the alpha was the obvious target, but it was my shoulder he stood at, one hand resting on me in constant reassurance.

  I’m in an alternate universe. I glanced over at Freya, who was looking at me expectantly. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to being around so many beautiful people, total sensory overload.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “I love your eloquence. I remember feeling exactly the same way when Gideon first took me out to show me off.” I watched her wave at people I recognized from local news and magazine covers like it was nothing.

  “You’ve acclimated.” She giggled and grabbed my hand, making me jump. “I never got to meet your mother, but Gideon never stopped talking about her. It made me crazy, but now that I’ve met you, I kind of understand. You have an honesty I find refreshing.”

  I pursed my lips and thought for a moment. “It's was just a Fae thing.” I shrugged, and I felt the corners of my mouth tug upwards. “I was so scared to meet you.” Her eyes widened as her plum lips made a perfect "O" of feigned surprise.

  “Do you have a reason to be afraid of me, little one?” It was my turn to shrug, and my answer seemed to delight her.

  “There was, uh, trepidation, considering he was deposited on my property.” And that’s how you keep from telling the full truth without telling a lie, folks.

  “Did you kill my evil almost-ex-husband, Ms. Silk?”

  “Ah, no, I didn’t even know him, which made so many things about our situation, uh, uncomfortable.”

  “Well, I believe you, because you haven’t shown me your bruises or told me you have a story for me when we’re alone. If you don’t have scars, physical or emotional, you didn’t know him at all.”

  Grayson’s hand tightening on my shoulder was the only sign he’d heard how she was talking about his friend. “I’m sorry, Mrs.…uh Freya. I only met the man who paid bail for shifters who needed help.”

  “Yes, he was a good alpha. It's part of why he was so insistent on being dominant in every area of his life.” She sighed. “And why we couldn’t be the life-mates the pack needed.”

  “I like werewolves,” I interjected, “but your pack is more diverse and needs to adjust to the race of shifter who wins the title.”

  “Well, maybe the next alpha will change things, eh, Grayson?” I gasped, and she giggled again. “Oh, I do like you!” She clapped her hands together and I could have sworn I heard bells. She had to be part Fae. “You must meet my new friend. He’s ridiculously fun to look at, and so charming.”

  Grayson huffed behind me but didn’t respond to her quip. Eventually, he loosened his grip, slowly stroking my back with his thumb. I couldn’t tell if it was in apology or to soothe his anger, but it stirred something in me I didn’t want to go away. I sat as still as I could manage, barely breathing so I wouldn’t interrupt the slow circles of his callused thumb over my skin.

  Fifteen

  Shenna and the other cronies approached us, the werewolf staring me down as she whispered to her friends and they snickered. Great, just what I needed. Greyson stopped touching me, his hand hovering over my skin close enough to feel the heat of his palm without brushing him at all.

  Before they reached us, Freya dismissed them with a wave of her hand. The look on Shenna’s face was almost worth the price I knew she’d exact from me later. But I could handle that, too. I’d faced bullies much scarier than the werewolf, even if she didn’t know it.

  Instead of the three mean-girl shifters, Freya welcomed a man I recognized to sit with us. His suit was entirely made of fairy dust, its colors shifting in the light, almost revealing a body part and becoming darker, opaquer as the dust moved with him.

  “Tryst, nice to see you,” I muttered. He winked at me and kissed Freya’s offered hand.

  “I hear you’ve been busy since I saw you last. I don’t suppose you’ve had the chance to consider my offer?”

  I rolled my eyes at him and he chuckled, kissing Freya’s fingers, one at a time. “I don’t have anything you need, Broker, and you don’t have anything I want.”

  Freya gasped and pressed her free hand to her breasts. Tryst followed the motion with hungry eyes. “You can’t possibly believe that?”

  Grayson took my elbow and urged me to my feet. “Um, I have all the magic I need, and it's exactly enough to keep me alive, so nope, not kidding.”

  “I’m sorry to take her from you, but Ms. Silk owes me a dance, and if I don’t get it in, she’ll be too busy meeting important people and I’ll never get her on the dance floor.”

  Which would’ve been better for you than making me go out there when I don’t want to, the voice inside my head grumbled. But my heart was already pounding, and my knees gave a little when he spun me into his arms and backed me out into the middle of the crowd.

  “So, what’s really going on?” I asked when he nuzzled into my neck.

  “Can’t a guy try to cop a feel on his hot date without an ulterior motive?”

  I scoffed at him. “Not you. No, even in the half a minute I’ve known you, you’re all business when you think something’s wrong.”

  “Portia was headed our way. I thought I’d get you out of there.”

  I hesitated. “Thank you.” His fingers slid over the small of my back and I shivered. “Then again, if I were there, she might have been forced not to lie as much about me.”

  “Please. Tryst is High Fae if you haven’t noticed. Anything she says will go straight to your fathe
r.”

  “Tryst wears pixie dust clothing, oh my gods, he's so tacky,” I hissed. “Which likely means he keeps or hurts pixies to get it. Why would he care about what happens to me?”

  “Because you’re the only daughter of the man every High Fae wants to endear themselves to. It has power. It gives you leverage.” I started to argue but he cut me off. “It doesn’t matter if he’s accepted you, Princess. What matters is no one gets to kick around our family members but us. The Fae are no different.”

  I let him pull me close again, his right hand cupping my left to his chest, right hand warm on the small of my back. “Just enjoy the dance. You’ve survived everything thrown at you in the past couple of days, and probably uncovered the only real lead about who killed Gideon. Relax for an hour, we can go back to the fight after a few dances and a glass of champagne.”

  The music was slow, some rock ballad played on violins and the piano. I couldn’t quite place it, but I’d never had a real ear for music. I preferred nature’s version, birdsong, rippling water, and the whisper of growing things humans couldn’t hear.

  He lifted my fingertips to his mouth and brushed them over his lips, making me shudder as things low in my body tightened and heated at his touch. “Let’s get out of here. Come back to my place, no one can get to you there. Not your cousin, or your aunt, or a coward in a black mask.”

  “See? That’s why I drove myself, Grayson. You are too tempting, and I am in too much trouble already to have the good detective show up at your door, too.”

  I was tired, and my head was beginning to ache. I could feel Portia’s eyes on me, distracting from the pleasant nearness of the were-jaguar. I tucked my fingers under the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and he bent down and kissed my temple.

  “I guess I’ll have to settle for tempting.” He curled his fingers in my hair. “Is all Fae hair this soft, or just yours? It’s like running your hand through down.”