Page 41 of Crown of the Fae King

I started walking again, a hundred times more aware of things around me, of footsteps coming from twenty feet behind. People passed, and I watched their faces for any sign of alarm or excitement. I saw neither, so I relaxed a little. If I were being followed by monsters or handsome Highlanders, my fellow pedestrians wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face.

At the corner, I was glad for a big picture window I used as a mirror to see behind me.

Two tall men with a woman walking between them. It was impossible to make out their faces in the glass. When I stopped to stare at the items on display, they missed a step before continuing around the corner as if my stopping hadn’t thrown them off.

I stood there, frozen with indecision. It wasn't like I’d stopped in their path, and they’d had to quickly cut around me. They were following me. But why? What would they want with me?

There was no earthly reason why anyone in Edinburgh would even know who I was. Or did they recognize me from the salon and assume I had the same kind of money Everly had?

Muggers? They hadn't looked the part. The men wore the same caps I’d seen a dozen times between there and the station. Their clothes and jackets non-descript. The woman wore a plaid skirt and long coat, her hands deep in her pockets. I’d noticed nothing else.

My senses told me to turn back and run. The train station was full of people, full of witnesses. No one would try to mug me there.

I moved out to the edge of the sidewalk and took a few steps so I could peek around the corner. The side street was lined with cars on both sides. The sidewalk was clear. The trio was gone. I stared at a dozen shops and doors they might have ducked into. If I passed the wrong one, would they pull me inside?

I tried to convince myself I was paranoid, but it didn’t work. My alarm bells clanged like the bell on an old firetruck. There was no way I could walk down that street. So I backtracked half a block and started looking for a taxi. A woman on the bus had been happy to make a few bucks by trading some pounds for dollars, so at least I wouldn’t piss off another driver.

One of those old-fashioned black cabs I’d seen lined up at the train station headed my way. I raised my hand and waved. The driver waved back and slowed to a stop. Since other cars were waiting, I grabbed the door that opened backward and let myself in.

“American consulate, please.” I held up my two five-pound notes. “Or as close as ten pounds will get me.” He took off without a word, turned the next corner, then stopped abruptly. Since this was precisely the second time I’d ever taken a cab, I had no idea what was going on. But I wasn’t about to pay him ten pounds for taking me less than half a block.

He just sat there, staring at me in his rearview mirror.

I reached for the door, but it opened on its own. One of those men dragged off his cap and barged inside, shoved me over, and sat beside me. The door on the other side opened and the woman and second man climbed in, then sat on the seat facing me and the back of the car.

When she smiled, I recognized her. Or at least, I recognized her glowing purple eyes.

“I have nothing to do with those people,” I said. “And I don’t have any gemstones.” I patted the pockets of my coat to demonstrate they were empty.

She nodded at me with her chin. “Search her.”

The car took off. I had to tilt my head to see the road ahead, more worried about motion sickness than being mugged. After all, nothing was mine. If they took everything I had, it would serve me right.

The hatless man next to me forced me out of my coat. I cooperated if only to keep him from ripping it in two. The other man grabbed my boot and dragged it off, searched it and reached for the other. When the first guy started running his fingers through my hair, I stopped caring about the road and slapped at his hands.

He slapped my face. Hard enough to make the muscles in my neck burn with the violent turn of my head.

I screamed my outrage and looked at the woman—no, the fairy--who was pulling my clothes from my bag and tossing them on the floor. “How can you just sit there?”

She ignored me.

The buttons on my vest popped. The first guy nearly ripped my arm off, so I finally let it go.

He pointed to my t-shirt. “You do it, or I will.”

I held out my hand. “Fine. I’ll do it.” I bugged my eyes at the woman. “But whatever you’re looking for, I don’t have it!”

She finished digging through the bag and chucked it onto the floor too.

I pulled my shirt over my head and held it in front of my hot pink bra. The man in front of me laughed creepy and low. "All of it, Uncast."

It was probably that laugh that did it. Andy Weaver had sounded much the same that dark summer night he caught me in the parking lot and backed me into the far corner. I'd promised myself that was never going to happen again.

And a promise was a promise.

Everly hadn't taught me karate, but I remembered the one move I didn't realize I'd been practicing. I launched myself off the seat and pretended the creep's face was that spot on the wall and nailed his nose with the heel of my bare foot. The other guy wrapped his arm around me, put his hand to my nearly bare chest, and slammed me to the floor.

I kicked and screamed with every gulp of air. I bit and scratched any leg or arm I could get a hold of. But they got my pants off me.

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