Page 49 of Magic Forsaken

“I uh… work here,” I told him, and promptly second guessed myself. Did I work here? What did a bodyguard even do when the person they were supposed to be guarding didn’t need them?

Yet another thing we hadn’t managed to discuss in between attacks.

The most intense moments of the past night’s events seemed to flicker in my mind like dying light bulbs. Windows shattering. Callum tackling me to the floor, amber eyes glowing with fury and power. The terrifying black dragon. Almost falling off the roof. The thrilling rightness of using my elemental magic. Callum throwing the lion across the room. And then that moment where we’d met on either side of the window, and the rest of the world had ceased to exist…

“What’s your name?” The security guard pulled out his phone. “I’ll have to check it against the list.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to face my dragon boss again. Maybe I could work up to it.

“Actually, I need to run across the street for a minute or two.”

The mustache bristled even harder. Pretty soon it was going to look like he’d glued a hedgehog to his lip. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”

No, he really wasn’t. “Don’t worry.” I offered him a fake smile and a cheery wave of my fingers as I backed away from the building. “I’ll be back. After I find my friends.”

The moment I said it, I realized how it probably sounded.

The guard’s eyes promptly bugged out. One hand dropped to the stun gun, and his phone came up again as if he were preparing to call for backup. But I was already in full retreat, jogging across the street and heading for The Portal. Hopefully, the poor guy didn’t spend the rest of the day waiting for me to come back with an army.

At the front door of the club, I was greeted by not only the usual “Closed for Renovation” sign, but an additional piece of paper taped to the window that read “No Really, We’re Closed.”

Huh. The door was actually locked, so I trekked around the block and entered through the back door, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake. Was I going to be accused of trespassing, since I didn’t technically work here anymore?

The hallway where I entered was dark and a little ominous. I could hear voices from upstairs but the rest of the building was silent, and suddenly, I felt as if Idefinitelywasn’t supposed to be here. What if I heard something I shouldn’t? I knew Faris was running some kind of strange underground organization. What if they were having a meeting? Discussing dangerous secrets?

I turned and headed back out again, but I didn’t get far. I’d just reached for the door handle when my wrist was seized in an iron grip… by a completely invisible hand.

Glamour.

And that meant fae.

I fought back an instant and nauseating surge of panic. There was no way to know whether the owner of the hand was trying to scare me or attacking in earnest. But once I saw the gleam of metal out of the corner of my eye, I no longer cared.

Every nerve lit up with some combination of fury and fear. I made a pissed off sound and whipped around, stepping back and into my attacker before shoving my hip into a muscled midsection. Definitely a male. With my knees bent, I yanked the arm across my body, then flipped him over my hip to land on the floor in front of me.

I tried to run while he was down, but a moment later my ankles were kicked out from under me. The floor hit hard, but I bit back a curse, rolled to the side, and came up in a crouch.

I had to keep moving. That was the first lesson. Never stand still long enough for them to hit you. Watch the shadows. Feel the air currents. Not all fae could glamour themselves with full invisibility, and sometimes you could see a distortion as they passed by solid objects.

After four steps backward with no attack, I darted sideways through the swinging door into the kitchen. It was mostly dark. Pans and utensils hung neatly over the prep table. Plates and trays were organized in orderly stacks.

But not for long. Even a fae had to concentrate to stay fully glamoured, and it was hard to concentrate on much of anything with utensils flying at your head.

The moment the door swung gently inward, three of Irene’s largest pots hit the wall in rapid succession, with the full strength of my arm behind them. They were followed by every spoon and spatula I could find, but those were mostly intended to litter the floor so that my attacker wouldn’t be able to take a step without alerting me to his location.

I paused, listening. Nothing. After taking a few shallow breaths, I moved around the prep table so I could see both doors.

Aha. The door into the main room of the bar seemed strangely dark. I couldn’t quite focus, couldn’t quite see its outline…

I ducked, just in time. A breeze fanned my face as I dropped back and down, rolled over my shoulder and came to my feet with one of the dropped spoons in hand.

A metal cooking spoon against a glamoured fae armed with a knife. Actually not the worst odds I’d ever faced.

A whisper of cloth against metal alerted me to movement, so I ducked again, sidestepped, then grabbed a full bottle of something off the table and threw it. A pained grunt came from the shadows, followed by a crack of broken glass, so I grabbed the next weapon I saw, which happened to be a baking sheet.

It impacted with an extremely satisfying metallic thud, giving me a precise location for just a single moment.

With nothing else immediately to hand, I grabbed the mop off the wall beside me, and swung, just as the lights went on.

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