by D. D. Miers
“Not the High Fae, no.” she slurped her coffee, sucking in air to cool her mouth at the same time as she drank. “But all the lesser Fae do. Our magic is part of what we are. A Pooka brings nightmares, a brownie makes a house a home, a pixie makes herself appear beautiful…” she shrugged. “You can be whatever you wish.”
“I could be like my father, that wouldn’t be terrible, would it?”
She regarded me for a couple of minutes without replying, her eyes clouding over as she went somewhere else in her head. “Well, your father has never made anything grow, so I would say you’re something even better.”
Pippi loved my ability to grow anything, anywhere, more than I ever could. She begged me for new plants every time I saw her, so I’d gotten in the habit of carrying seeds with me, either purchased, or collected from wherever I’d been. Her alley garden was nicer than most of the yards in Laurel Heights.
“You need to, to, to see the mound, Momo,” she reminded me for the hundredth time. “You got a power boost, I can see it. You could get through the doors now.”
“I don’t know Pippi, but I am doing magic differently.”
She nodded and patted my hand with her dirty, coffee-warmed little fingers. “You found your home. I know when I find my home, things will be different.”
A sympathy pang tugged on my heart. I’d wanted to give Pippi a home, but my apartment had been too new, too much steel and not enough wood to sustain her. The older buildings around the bonds had to do, until I found her something better.
“Oh, my hell Pippi, I just had the best idea.” I dialed Grayson’s number, and when he didn’t pick up, left a message for him to call me. “Pippi, I’m going to get in touch with my friend and see about having you check out the Piedmont building.”
“That sounds lovely Momo, but you don’t have to look after me.”
“Pippi, it’s where a bunch of shifters live. And there’s a big old fighting arena, and the place was built in the fifties, so there’s wood…” I held up my foot, still encased in my homemade sandal. “And they have a garden you would be happily lost in for days at a time.”
She flushed, her cheeks pinking up under the layer of city grime. “I will go wherever you want me to go, Momo, but don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t like me. I’m a mess and brownies are never supposed to be a mess.”
“But all brownies are dusty, Pippi, that’s the bit of their home they always carry with them. You taught me so.” My phone buzzed at me insistently. I answered without looking, thinking it was Grayson, who I hadn’t talked to since Muir Park.
“It’s Sylvie, and yes, I can feel your disappointment across the cell phone signal.”
“Sorry Sylvie, I was excited to finally maybe find Pippi a home to take care of.” There was a long silence on the other end, and I imagined Sylvie having brunch, drinking mimosas, and teasing some wealthy man on the other end. “Um, Sylvie? I’ve got to get back to work, and you called me, so…”
“Yes, right,” she giggled. “Tryst wants to meet with you, day after tomorrow. He’s got some things to take care of beforehand.”
“No problem, Sylvie, text me the details and I’ll see you later.”
“Goodbye. It…It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing for the brownie.”
“Pippi? Well, she’s my friend, Sylvie. I’ll do whatever I can to help her be happy.”
She hung up and I walked Pippi back to her garden behind the office, watching her sing to her wild flowers and weeds for a few minutes before getting back to the daily grind. I imagined her caring for the Piedmont, the gardens, and taking care of Grayson’s home for him. She could cook meals and keep the place clean, all the while staying invisible and out of the way, which would be perfect for the busy were-jaguar when he finally kicked enough asses they made him alpha.
If ‘the only woman he ever loved’ didn’t get him killed first. Shenna wasn’t my problem, not really, but it was damnably irritating she was trying to affect the challenges to Grayson’s detriment.
I texted him about Pippi as I walked to my desk, just so he wouldn’t think my call had been an emergency of some kind. Orson was glad to see me back to my regular schedule, which he showed me by dumping a stack of files on my desk and shouting at me to have them finished by the end of day.
The only concession he made to his bad mood was when he set a crystal vase on the corner of my desk and said he was glad someone had represented the company at the party in Grayson’s honor, since he’d been unable to attend. The flowers, he told me, were from Freya Masters, along with her thanks.
I didn’t know if unable meant "not invited" or "too busy getting laid", but I accepted his thanks, and got back to work before he could yell at me for slacking off. Bounty hunters rolled through, first-time clients cried to me for help, and one repeat customer even brought us all our favorite items off the McDonalds dollar menu as we set up bail for his trouble-making younger brother.
Life was back to normal, so long as I didn’t look out the window at the limited-edition Grand Cherokee sent over as my "loaner" while Grayson’s guy fixed my car…free of charge…even though it required a total rebuild.
Aunt Portia still hadn’t returned any of my calls requesting she pay for the damage, but it was no surprise. She hadn’t sent the warlock back either, or at least my wards hadn’t been tested. I still hadn’t talked to Will, just bad timing on my part, since he was back east at a competition I’d apparently forgotten about.
Even the detective had avoided me since she’d been forced to stand between my aunt and me, but every time I remembered, I made a sign to ward off evil, and renewed my protection spell on the office.
“Hey, Short-stack, there’s someone to see you,” Pen called out from reception. I sighed and got up from my desk. Gods, we’re so professional here. I pasted a polite smile onto my face and joined her at the front of the shop, where Kiersten sat. She was cradling her swollen belly and grinning like an idiot at a good-looking kid who looked like he wasn’t old enough to drive.
“Kiersten, you look so good,” I crowed at her, holding her at arm's length while I got a read on her magic and her health. “Is this?”
“Danny, yeah.” He stood and wrapped me in a bear hug. I stiffened, relaxed, and let him hug me, taking a deep breath of him as he did. There, just below the surface, was his beast, waiting for me to release it. Wild magic.
“What about you, Kiersten? What brings you here today?”
“Well,” Danny chuckled, “We’re gonna get married after the baby’s born, and we wanted to deliver you your invitation personally.” He handed me an embossed envelope. “We both hope you’ll be there.”
“Of course, I will!” I blurted. “But you don’t have to invite me, you hardly know me.”
“When Grayson called my parents and told them you were trying to get a hold of me, I knew Kiersten needed me to come save her.”
“My gods, how very Romeo and Juliet without the stupidity and self-harm. I am so proud of you both.” My face felt like it was going to split I was so happy for them. A tiny piece of my joy was reserved for the hope someday I’d get to look as in love and ecstatic as they did.
“Do you have any advice for having a hybrid?” Kiersten asked. The question took me by surprise, but I had the answer in an instant.
“Raise her in the shifter traditions, but teach her the Wiccan ones, too,” I said. “Do what you will, only harm none, is a good way to live your life. But the Wiccans are…corrupted, or complacent, or just plain greedy. The shifters I’ve known for mere days would come to my aid or protect my family if needed. I still don’t know a witch who would do the same.”
“You know one.” Kiersten’s face was serious. “Please be my baby’s godmother, and please, please, please come to my wedding. It’s not for a few months, but it won’t be the same without you.”
I made the promise to show up for her baby, and wedding, but I had no idea why she would ask for the additional hardship the witches would vis
it on her if they knew she’d been speaking to me.
The young couple left, and Penelope put her arms around me and rested her chin on the top of my head. “I never thought I’d see the day Morgan Mac Solais Silk would let someone get close enough to her to love and trust her with their own child.
“Don’t you trust me, Pen?” I let her hold onto me, fighting the urge to break free before she did. It was Penelope’s version of a staring contest, and she knew I’d be weaker after all the hugging. I couldn’t give her the pleasure of a win when she’d cheated.
“Oh, I love and trust you, little one,” she whispered in my ear, and wild magic hummed inside me. Even Penelope has magic I can touch.
“I think you’re silly for loving me. No one else does.” But she just laughed at me and kept her arms wrapped around me like a straight-jacket for another few seconds before giving up and letting go.
“I think you’re going to keep losing the battle against being social going forward. You can keep fighting to be lonely and alone, but the people around you aren’t going to stop loving you any time soon.” She patted my butt and laughed. “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to give up hating yourself, because you’re going to run out of people who will agree with you.”
Nineteen
I texted Grayson a reminder I was going to speak to the broker. I triple-checked the wards on the apartment and headed into work. It had been three days since I’d talked to my now favorite were-jaguar, and I was equal parts worried he’d failed a challenge and irritated he was just avoiding me because of the power I’d shown him.
“It doesn’t matter. You know nothing about him, you aren’t friends, you didn’t let him hit it…” I caught myself mumbling and shut up before anyone could ask any questions.
I made myself a decadent coffee with more sweet Italian cream than Folgers in it, and sat down, nerves humming over my meeting later in the day. I called the gym to make an appointment with Will, who I hoped was back from his trip. When nobody answered, I called his cell and left a message there. With any luck, he’d call back and let me pound out some of my anxiety on him.
The gym was great, but with more of those guys hooking up to the magic machine, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be challenged every time I went in. Besides, I could’ve used Will’s emotional support, his eyes in the gym, and his contacts. What if the warlock is trying to cash me in was the same one trading magic for life force with some of the guys?
Grayson still hadn’t gotten back to me about my text or phone call and I was starting to feel a bit like a stalker. I sent one last text with the address of the meeting Sylvie given me and took off for the day. I didn’t expect them to meet me there, but I figured at least he should know I was moving forward with the investigation.
If he doesn’t respond to it, he doesn’t care or want to know. Do not text him again, Morgan. I huffed at the silent voice in my head. Sure, I felt something missing since the craziness of my impromptu storm. But I knew it wasn’t about Grayson, or at least not completely. I wanted to feel the rush again, the way nature rose up to meet my magic. Because it wasn’t until I was home and had taken a long bath—evil warlocks be damned—I’d recalled the howling under the wind.
Was it the wild hunt I heard in the wind, or just my childhood fantasies making a revival?
I reminded Penelope I’d be out for a bit and told her where I could be reached. It wasn’t technically work, but Orson would be pleased I was making a connection with someone that had the kind of pull Tryst did with all the factions.
I waved goodbye to Beth, who I was surprised to see behind her desk for once. I was less surprised to see Pen lounging in a chair next to her, reading her palm. At least someone’s getting somewhere with the object of their interest.
Just as I shot the grinning Penelope a grin the front door opened, and a tall shadow fell across me. My pulse bumped before I even looked at him, but I felt his power and the thing I’d been missing clicked inside me, making my own magic quicken in me.
Just as a dandelion began to creep in through a crack low on the front wall of the building, I grabbed Grayson’s arm and dragged him outside with me. A garden had sprung to life in the parking lot weeds and saplings widening the cracks in the concrete. Grayson glanced at my hand on his arm.
“Missed me, did you?”
I snatched my hand back like it had been burned. “Not the way you think, Mr. Ego.” I gazed helplessly at the lush garden I’d accidentally created. “Why are you here, anyway?”
"You texted me. I came to drive you to the meeting with Tryst.”
“Great. You got my messages, you just didn’t think I deserved a response. Cool.” I ran my fingers through my hair and tugged on it, hard, hoping the sharp pain would clear my head. “What the hell do I do now?”
He touched a wild rose leaning towards him and it rubbed its fuzzy stem across his fingers like a cat would. “I like your garden. Do your plants always act like animals?”
“No. Usually my plants act like plants,” I snipped. “Then again, usually I don’t get a boost from were-cat power when I ask them to grow.” Which I hadn’t done, I reminded myself. “I don’t know why this happened.” I met his eyes with a frown. “I don’t know how this happened.”
“Well, I think you’d better unmake it, so we can get to Tryst’s. If you’re late, he won’t talk to you.” Sylvie had mentioned the same thing on three separate occasions, so I was already aware it was a non-negotiable point.
I wiped my damp palms on my thighs, grateful I’d chosen my nicest black jeans and the wetness wouldn’t show. “I don’t know if I can ‘unmake it’ without touching you, but I want to try anyways. Just don’t freak out if it doesn’t work.”
He arched an eyebrow at me. “When have you ever seen me freak out?”
“You mean other than when you tried to choke me to death, or when you chased me through the Tenderloin, or when you thought…”
“Just try,” he broke in, and I giggled, and gasped as he swatted my ass. “Now please, Princess.”
I knew he didn’t mean it as a title but hearing it from him was still sobering. I had almost called his animal from him. I had called a storm and I would swear on a stack of any religious text handed to me I had heard the dogs of the wild hunt. I could tame one tiny, little garden that hadn’t been there five minutes before.
I could still feel his power, hot where mine was cool, brushing against me like some great cat waiting to be acknowledged. But I didn’t want his power, I needed to see if mine alone was enough for the task. I breathed in the cool air off the bay and held it in my lungs as I visualized the parking lot as it had been, hairline cracks in the pavement and all.
I kept my eyes closed and released the breath, pulling wild magic into me when I inhaled again. Grayson gasped next to me and I fought the urge to watch my work, nervous if I did I’d jinx myself. I opened my eyes and the parking lot was just as it had been, rundown, a little shady-looking, and every inch of it belonging in the heart of the city.
Grayson jerked his head toward his car, now thankfully free of the jungle that had swallowed it. “Good job, Princess. Can you make the lights all green, too?”
I laughed aloud at that. No matter where I went, I saw police cars, both marked and unmarked. I wasn’t about to get hauled in for a traffic infraction while I knew they’d jump at the first sign of malfeasance. I was beyond happy Orson had put a stop to them camping out in the parking lot because it was bad for business.
But I also hadn’t seen the detective since she’d silently stood by my aunt destroying my car. No. I wouldn’t be giving her any more chances to claim I’d tried to harm anyone with magic. It was the automatic death sentence she wanted, without having to dirty her pure, lily white hands.
We were pulling up to the gate of Tryst’s ten-million-dollar estate before Grayson spoke to me again.
The guard at the gate let us through after poking his head in the window and getting a look at me. G
rayson coasted around the circle and rolled to a stop next to a burnished bronze Ferrari.
“I had no idea such an expensive car could look even more so, without being gaudy.”
Grayson chuckled at me and ran his hand over the steering wheel of his Maserati. “Managing to be gaudy without seeming to be must be one of those Fae talents.”
“Is disappearing without a word a shifter talent?”
“No.” He sighed and reached for me, tucking my hair behind my shoulder. “But I told you the old ways we’ve been force to fall back on were hard. I’m banged up and bruised from more fights than I can count. I think I slept for an hour before your last text came in.”
I gaped at him. “I wish you hadn’t come. It’s not fair to you to chauffer me around when you’re running on fumes.” I growled at him. “Not safe for me, either.” I had a hell of a lot more to say to him on the subject, but a uniformed man knocked on my window.
“Are you Mr. Tryst’s two o’clock?”
Grayson snickered and made a face at me. “Yessir we are,” I chirped at the old Fae. He was a brownie, like Pippi, but he was tidy and well-groomed. It made me sad to think of her making her home in the alley when she deserved a home like the mansion I was staring up at.
“You ready for this?” I glanced at Grayson and shrugged.
“I have more measurable power than the last time he saw me. Don’t let me be tricked, okay? We have to get the information about the local warlocks without him getting my blood.”
That was how he took and gave power, through blood. Blood magic was the most powerful of all and was the one magical link to all our kind. From Fae, to warlocks and witches, to shifters, the power was in blood.
I’d heard stories growing up about a boogeyman called "the Broker", who stole blood and had a room full of vials of it, around a medical table and instruments of torture. My aunt had been particularly gruesome in her descriptions, until one day when I was about eight, and I asked her when she’d seen it.