The Cursed Fae (Accessory to Magic Book 2)

by Kathrin Hutson

  When she finished, she looked up at him and cleared her throat. The fae didn’t move.

  ‘Hey, maybe now he’s dead. Problem solved.’

  Yeah, and a whole bunch of new ones popping up instead.

  “Leandras?”

  Nothing.

  “Hey!”

  The fae jolted in the armchair with a snort. His silver eyes flew open, and he rubbed his mouth with a weak hand before readjusting in his seat. “Is it finished?”

  “The writing, yeah.” Jessica glanced at the notepad and tilted her head. “But you still need to hear the terms.”

  “If my only option is to agree to all of it, I hardly see the point in spelling it all out.”

  “Maybe not for you.” But Jessica wanted to see his reactions to each and every one of her terms. If he gave the slightest tell—anything that looked like amusement, or satisfaction, or unwarranted curiosity—she’d scrap the list and start over.

  Leandras seemed to realize this too. His gaze lifted from the notepad and settled on her face. “You’re rather familiar with this ritual, aren’t you?”

  “You could say that.” She tried to shrug but only managed something that looked like a spasm in both arms. “And I’m not leaving anything out.”

  “No, I imagine you wouldn’t.” His lips twitched, and he nodded. “Go ahead, then.”

  “Okay.” Jessica looked back down at her own cramped, sporadic handwriting and squinted at the very first word. That was what she got for trying to write through one constant stream of endless pain.

  ‘Self-care, witch. Pain usually stops when the source is treated…’

  And which source do I have to treat to get you to stop?

  The bank didn’t have a reply to that, so she returned what little focus she had left to the binding terms.

  “Okay. First, in exchange for sheltering you here inside the bank, provided the following conditions are met, you agree to tell me everything you know about the Gateway.”

  Leandras closed his eyes and nodded.

  So far so good.

  “Condition number one. You hide from the customers at all times. No lounging around in the lobby or making a bunch of noise or even breathing in a way that catches anyone else’s attention.”

  The fae sniggered. “How fortunate that I’m not one for the spotlight.”

  She ignored him and kept reading. “Number two. You get one room in the bank. That goes for whenever someone else walks through that front door and outside of normal business hours. A room of my choosing. And you stay there unless I tell you otherwise.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Great. Three. The witching vault and anything beyond the first floor of this building are off limits. That includes the stairs. Even the first step. Got it?”

  “Yes, I believe we’ve been over exactly where my presence is not acceptable.”

  Where his presence was not acceptable?

  Jessica wanted to laugh, or make some snide remark, or find a way to mock him for his damn aloofness that wouldn’t immediately worsen the headache she’d been nursing for the last hour.

  But she had to content herself with the last two items on the list.

  “Four. No outside contact.”

  Leandras’ eyes narrowed, then he slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers.

  Score one point for sniffing out a sore spot on a desperate fae.

  “So you have to hand over your phone.” She extended her hand and wiggled her fingers for him to cough it up. Blinking furiously, Leandras shifted on the armchair to retrieve his cell phone from his pants pocket and dropped it carelessly into her hand. Jessica slid it through the thin opening in the partially closed desk drawer and nodded. “And you don’t get to leave until the binding’s been fulfilled.”

  “Well.” He rubbed the underside of his chin, then raised an eyebrow in concession. “I imagine anything else would defeat the purpose of my lying low here.”

  “Whatever your purpose is doesn’t matter.” Jessica only realized she’d hunched over so far in the office chair when she had to lift her head to look at him. Yeah, they had to hurry up and finish this so she could get some rest. And privacy.

  “Is that all, then?”

  “No. Just one more.” She pretended to look down at the notepad but didn’t have to. This last one was something she expected would make the fae squirm a little more than he was used to, and she didn’t want to miss a second of it. “You have five days.”

  “What?”

  “Five days for shelter in the bank.” The firm nod she gave him didn’t feel anywhere near as final as she hoped it looked. “Then you’re on your own.”

  “Jessica, that’s hardly—”

  “You said you needed time under the radar to recoup, right? Fae don’t need more than two days. I’m giving you a nice cushion here.”

  Leandras’ upper lip twitched as he glared at her. “You misunderstand my situation.”

  “I don’t need to know anything about your situation. This is what you get. And during those five days, if you refuse to tell me what I want to know about the Gateway when I want to know it, if you break any of these terms or try to play me…”

  “Five days is nothing.”

  “…then the binding is void, and you will be escorted from the premises. By force, if necessary.”

  ‘I like the way you think, witch.’

  Yeah, well that last part was referring to you, so pay attention.

  Leandras glared at her for what felt like an eternity. Then he shifted in the armchair and inhaled deeply through his nose, obviously trying to hold back his rage. “Perhaps I should have been more transparent.”

  “My terms. My binding. My bank. This isn’t a negotiation.” Jessica set down the pen on the desk behind her, then picked up the ritual knife. “Take it or leave it.”

  It was a bold move, especially now that she knew the fae was willing to share whatever he knew about the Gateway. If he knew enough to be remotely helpful. But it helped that Leandras had no idea he was her only option for this information at the moment. She just hoped he hadn’t been bluffing about that, at least.

  ‘Not when he had that coin in his deposit box for as long as he did,’ the bank muttered. ‘He knows plenty.’

  That was good enough for her.

  “So.” Jessica tilted the dagger so the blade pointed straight up. “Are we doing this or not?”

  Leandras let out a long, hissing sigh. “It seems you’ve left me no choice.”

  “No, there’s always a choice. They can’t all be exactly what we want, though.”

  “Hmm. Except for when you’re the one crafting the binding.”

  She snorted and immediately clenched her eyes shut against another burst of pain behind them. “Yeah, Leandras. I manufactured this whole thing just so I could lock myself in a bank with you for five days. You know, ’cause it’s cozy.”

  He raised a slender eyebrow. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Very well.” With a heavy sigh, the fae tried one more time to smooth his hair away from his forehead, then jerked up on the cuff of one suit-jacket sleeve and leaned forward toward her. “I agree to your terms, Jessica Northwood. Bind me.”

  Well that was one way to state his willingness, though she hadn’t heard anyone say it quite like that before.

  The bank snorted. ‘Oh, wow. Two little words bringing up so many memories. That’s just what that one changeling said right before you tied him to the—’

  Drop it. Now.

  ‘But it’s funny. And kinda kinky.’

  Forcing herself not to scream at the voice in her head no one else could hear, Jessica gingerly rolled the office chair forward until she sat two feet away from Leandras in the armchair. She set the list of her terms in her lap, then opened her empty palm and cut it with the tip of Tabitha’s blade. The slice in her flesh wasn’t nearly as painful as everything else coursing through her body, but it still made her suck in a q
uick, hissing breath. She really hoped Tabitha had at least charmed the dagger to sterilize itself. Most magicals did with their ritual daggers, but then again, Tabitha hadn’t been anything like most magicals.

  ‘No, she was better.’

  Probably true.

  “I, Jessica Northwood, open this channel to a binding sworn and upheld by myself and Leandras…”

  The fae stared at the blood pooling in her palm. “Vilafor.”

  “Vilafor,” she repeated. “Considered complete when the terms written by my hand and under my own power have been fulfilled.”

  Jessica extended the dagger toward Leandras, who took a few more seconds to stare at her blood before gingerly accepting the blade’s handle. The second he did, Jessica turned her other palm over and pressed it against the list in her lap.

  Leandras pressed the dagger’s tip against his own flesh. “I agree to the terms of this binding and hereby swear to uphold them or forfeit my life and my fate to the old laws of Xahar’áhsh. So says the Laen’aroth.”

  What the hell had just come out of his mouth?

  He didn’t even flinch when he drew the blade against his hand. The blood welling there in his palm didn’t even look like blood. It was so much darker, nearly black, and oozed from the cut like cold molasses. Jessica stared at it, her frown deepening.

  No shit. The fae was in a lot worse shape than she’d thought, and she had no idea what had caused him to bleed like that or how he was even still alive, honestly.

  ‘You were right,’ the bank whispered. ‘Eating away at him from the inside…’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Leandras’ silver gaze flickered up to meet Jessica’s, and he wiggled the fingers of his bleeding hand as he offered her the dagger with the other. “I believe you’re keeping something from me.”

  “What?” She looked quickly up from the dark ooze slowly growing in his palm and blinked.

  “My mark, Jessica.”

  “Oh.” She grabbed the edges of his tiny notebook and exchanged it for Tabitha’s knife.

  The second he pressed his palm down on their sworn binding, a tingle of powerful magic unlike anything Jessica had felt before in any of the countless spells she’d performed just like this raced up her cut hand, through her arm, and bloomed like five shots of liquor rushing all at once to her head. The notepad with the binding’s terms and both their blood flashed with a dark, shimmering light, and she couldn’t help the small groan that escaped her.

  What the hell kind of magic was in this fae’s blood?

  Leandras tore off the top sheet of paper and handed it to her. Then he returned the small notepad to the inside pocket of his crumpled suit jacket and swallowed. “It’s done.”

  “Yeah…” Jessica stared at the swirling lines of black and red blending together on the paper, soaking the sheet all the way through and completely covering her words scrawled across the lines with the fae’s pen.

  The half-open top drawer of the desk shot open behind her with a flash of blue light.

  ‘For safekeeping, witch. I’m not letting that out of my sight. Or this drawer. Same thing.’

  Still reeling from the residual buzz of the binding floating through her head, Jessica slowly swiveled the chair toward the open drawer. Her hand thumped against the outside of it the first time she tried to drop the paper inside, but she managed to aim correctly the second time. The sheet of paper fluttered onto the top of Tabitha’s messy stack of whatever the hell she’d kept in this desk, followed by the ritual dagger. The bank took it upon itself to close the drawer again with a slam.

  “Now.” Leandras stared at his open hand, where the split flesh had already completely healed over again. “I believe you’ve specified—”

  “What’s the Laen’aroth?” Jessica blinked against the dizziness as she turned back toward both versions of the fae she saw sitting in two slightly overlapping armchairs.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You just swore the binding as the Laen’aroth.” And now she knew where she’d heard that name the first time, even before she’d barely registered it uttered on Mickey’s lips before he’d skulked out of the bank without a sound. “The Requiem called you Laen’aroth too. And Mickey.”

  Leandras sat back in the chair and let out another heavy sigh. “It’s not unusual for someone to go by multiple names. Though I must admit I don’t know any Mickey.”

  “The Matahg. He was—”

  Shit. She wasn’t supposed to be talking about that. Her past and her epic douchebag of an old boss were none of the fae’s business.

  ‘You need rest.’ The bank tsked. ‘So now would be the time to go get some. And maybe take a look at the fun new wounds you’re sporting. I think there’s—’

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Jessica muttered.

  Leandras’ soft hum was probably meant as a laugh, but he had just as much strength as Jessica at this point. “I assumed as much. I also imagine it’s safe to assume you have quite the history with that Matahg. Correct?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Jessica shook her head and stared at the fae, waiting for him to look at her again. Maybe if she stared hard enough, he’d feel it. Or not. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Which question is that?”

  “What is the Laen’aroth?”

  “I thought I made that clear when I mentioned multiple names—”

  “You’re not making anything clear. Tell me what it means.”

  He finally opened his eyes and looked right at her, completely expressionless. “No.”

  Screw this guy.

  “Hey, you swore to answer my questions.”

  “I swore to tell you everything I knew about the Gateway and your role in protecting it, Jessica. What I chose to call myself has nothing to do with either of those.”

  “Bullshit. I’m not talking about what you call yourself. The Requiem and Mickey Hargraves called you by that name, and I know it means something.”

  “Not to you.” Grimacing, Leandras pushed himself from the armchair and swayed slightly on his feet before steadying himself again with a hand on the upholstery. “And I hardly think this is the time for diving down what I can assure you is a very dark, very deep hole of a conversation. Perhaps later.”

  “That’s not how this works!” Jessica launched herself out of the office chair, which rolled back violently and bashed against the desk. Her legs gave out, and she stumbled forward right into the fae.

  Leandras caught her by the wrists and pulled her upright again. “And you need to rest.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need.” She jerked her arms out of his grasp and glared at him, her pain forgotten for the moment beneath her anger. “You can’t keep hiding things from me.”

  “I can. If you wanted a secret window into my past, Jessica, then you should have added that to your terms. The binding is already sworn, and there’s no room for amendments.”

  ‘He has no idea what he’s talking about.’

  Jessica didn’t have the strength to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, and at this point, she didn’t care. A wave of nausea curdled in her gut, and she swayed.

  “You look ill.”

  “Yeah, well you look like you won’t make it through the night.” She shot him a sidelong glance, and the fae’s lips pressed tightly together. “Fine. Rest for both of us. And when I come back downstairs, you start talking.”

  “If your schedule permits.” He spread his arms and dipped his head. “Mine is apparently wide open for the next five days.”

  Great. Even after she’d cornered him into a binding that was supposed to be entirely in her favor, this damn fae still insisted on being a smartass. Jessica looked him up and down, then pointed at the narrow hallway on the other side of the lobby. “That’s your room.”

  Leandras’ eyes widened, and he turned slowly to eye the dusty, cramped office complete with a junk-covered desk, the useless computer, and space enough for one fae and little
else. “Charming.”

  “You stay there until I come back down. Got it?”

  “And what about your clients?”

  “Let me worry about that.” Jessica nodded toward the office, and Leandras dipped his head at her again before turning to slowly shuffle across the back of the lobby.

  “I look forward to finally having these chats, Jessica. Perhaps you’ll share with me why that Matahg was so intent on killing you.”

  Rolling her eyes, Jessica turned away from him and headed for the hallway toward the stairs, bracing herself against the mostly empty back shelf to keep from collapsing right there.

  Zap him if he tries anything.

  ‘Aye-aye, Captain.’

  With a snort, she pointed at the front door, but the bank was already way ahead of her. The lock slid into place with a flash of blue light and a click, the Open sign flipped over against the window, and the bank was closed in the middle of the day for personal reasons. Again.

  Looks like we’re changing things up around here.

  ‘That’s the plan, witch. As long as you don’t sleep for five days.’

  No, that would be impossible. Jessica wondered if she’d be able to sleep at all after this—with Mickey storming around town knowing she was out and a fae man sequestered inside the defunct office right beneath her bedroom and who knew how many magicals getting ready to storm the front door of Winthrop & Dirledge again for their chance to get at the damn Gateway. Then again, sleep felt like the only thing she was capable of right now. Jessica could worry about the rest of it when she woke up.

  The office door clicked shut, and she made her way down the hall, casting a brief glance at the glittering green light seeping out beneath the witching vault’s door, almost like it was mocking her for her decision.

  Fine. Jessica had still gotten what she’d wanted out of this newest crappy situation. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about having manipulated someone else into a binding, but she was finally going to get what she needed. The fact that it would all come from Leandras was just a minor irritation in the bigger scheme of things.