Page 14 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

I smile to myself as she appears in the back of the shop, her strange brass magnifying glasses perched on her eyes as she works at a jewelry bench. I can barely make out the pink tip of her tongue as she concentrates, her red fox familiar curling around her ankles.

Even from here, I scent her—that rare perfume of deep, dark places in the earth, of gold and magic. Of power… and maybe something even better.

I shove my hands in my pockets and my grin broadens.

Yes, catching this little bird will be an excellent diversion from the nasty business of our exodus from the Underhill.

Now I just have to find out what will make her fly to me for help.

CHAPTER FIVE

CAELAN

The urge to act on my needs pricks beneath my skin, annoying and persistent. The humid, late summer weather doesn’t do much to alleviate the compunction. In fact, it only succeeds in making me all the more irritable.

The stairs to the old inn on groan on the way up to the patio.

It’s a wonder the whole place hasn’t rotted through.

Hash Beauchamp, the crotchety old owner of the place, rocks in a chair and watches me under fuzzy white eyebrows.

It’s a wonder he’s still alive, from the looks of him, matching the inn in both ambiance and cleanliness.

Which is to say, an extreme dearth of both.

I inhale slowly as Hash gives me a long look, pursing his lips in disapproval… and immediately regret it. The foul and unmistakable odor of wet dog—a noxious scent that permeates the entire place— nearly knocks me off my feet.

“You know, for a creature that’s hardly fifteen pounds,” I pause, lifting an eyebrow, “though he should be closer to ten, it seems, that dog has a way of truly infesting this place with smell.”

The dog in question looks through rheumy eyes at me from his perch on Hash’s lap. Pale brown splotches add to the filthy effect of the overweight and bug-eyed creature, and drool drips from his poorly aligned jaws.

It’s so ugly it is quite nearly cute.

Hash should be offended at having the thing so close to his person. Alas, humans never were clever creatures.

Instead, the old man grins at me, roguish enough that it settles some of my persistent need to cause chaos, and jerks his head at the rocker next to him.

He should be offended, and yet, the more surly I behave towards him, the more he seems to like me.

I sigh in resignation and take the proffered chair.

“Does it not bother you?” I ask, setting my feet on the decaying wood porch and wrinkling my nose as I begin to rock.

“Having people stay at home? Or having an ugly purple fae on my porch?” He regards me curiously.

I snort, amused in spite of myself. Truly, not a clever man. A smart human would think better than to insult me, no matter how far I’ve fallen.

“How disgusting that creature smells,” I say, looking pointedly at the rheumy dog in his lap.

The dog’s tongue lolls out, more drool dropping onto the wooden floor.

No wonder it’s mildewed.

“The entire inn stinks of him,” I say, and something about that… there’s something about that I should make note of, but then Hash grins at me, and I forget whatever it was.

“Good thing my sense of smell isn’t as good as a fae’s then, hmm, Purple?”

I roll my eyes, settling more deeply into the rocker. “Perhaps,” I admit.

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