Faery Dust (Wildcat Wizard Book 2) Read online

  The mindfulness was disturbed when an arm shot out from someone sat at the front pew and gripped me tighter than was friendly.

  Damn, I was kinda digging the vibe too.

  A New Friend

  It felt blasphemous to will destructive forces into being in the church, but if it came down to me or the ambience then the ambience would take a hit every time. My arm burned as energy shunted into my fingers, feeling like I'd just come in from the cold and I was a split second away from doing something unholy to my attacker.

  As our eyes met, the man removed his hand hastily, reading my intentions and looking both saddened and confused by what he saw.

  "Whoa, easy, mate."

  "Damn, sorry. Steve isn't it? Christ, I nearly took your arm off. What in Jesus' name are you doing here?"

  The badger shifter, who'd saved me after getting mixed up in the dealings of Cerberus, stroked his immaculate, shiny beard and said, "I like it, it's peaceful. You?"

  "Same, I guess. I didn't even know this place was here?"

  "I hear you. Hardly anyone does. It's right here in the middle of the city yet most don't see it. People think they know it, that maybe they've visited it at some point, and take no notice. They just see a spire and look away, they don't really see it. You get me?"

  I nodded. "I get you." We were both on the same wavelength, which was kinda nice. "Sorry if you got into any trouble after that bit of bother," I said, knowing it wasn't my doing, that several local shifters, because of Steve's encouragement, had decided to act as bodyguard to Nigel right before he got his head blown off and the goons chased after us all.

  "It's all good, mate, innit. These things happen." Steve tried to talk quietly but he had a rather gruff voice, reminding me of a banjo player from the swamps I'd seen in some movie or other when you still had to go to the video store and rent them to play on a VHS machine.

  Suddenly I felt very old. He must have been what, late twenties? Talked differently to me, and was well groomed with slicked-back hair, beard with product in, smart yet casual clothes that he suited but seemed a little too much like trying. But all the shifters were like that, dressing smart as if daring anyone to compare how they looked to their animal form.

  "So no problems with that girl that came and gave us an earful? She the boss?"

  "Haha, she likes to think so. No, she sort of is in charge of our small group, but you know us, we don't like to take orders. No real bosses. I just agree to disagree kind a thing, mate. Hey, you wanna go grab a drink? I'm parched."

  "Ssh," came a warning from a lady the other side of the aisle, a few pews back. We both turned and said a quiet, "Sorry," and that decided it for me.

  "Sure, love to."

  We left the church, and I was genuinely looking forward to sitting down and having a chat with another guy. What's wrong with a nice man-date once in a while? I wondered if this was an actual impromptu date, and if Steve went for guys rather than girls, then remembered what George had said. That most people not of my generation were happy to go either way. It was down to the person, not the gender. And then I also remembered that I was twice his age, looked like a scarecrow but with a nice hat, and didn't exactly have the pulling power I once did.

  So yeah, he was safe from me, and it depressed me to realize I was well past the age where anyone would try to pick me up, let alone a smart young man who had such strong sexual chemistry he could have his choice of most singletons in the city, and probably most of those in relationships too.

  Shifters had this thing about them when you got close, they gave off an almost overwhelming sexual charm hard to resist. Not that he did much for me as I had ways to protect myself from such manipulations, but he was a handsome man and I could do with the company.

  "So, where you wanna go?" asked Steve as we emerged into sunshine, almost blinding after the cool and dark interior.

  "Depends what you want to drink. I'm not much for the booze, but a coffee would be good."

  "I know just the place," he said with a wink, and we set off at a leisurely pace through the city, down increasingly narrow and deserted alleys until we came to a tiny building squeezed in between three-story offices. It couldn't have been more than six feet wide.

  "It used to just be an alley, but it was turned into a bakery a long time ago. Now it does the best coffee ever," said Steve.

  "I love it already."

  Thankfully the place was almost empty and I felt instantly at home. Inside were old wooden tables squashed up against one wall, with mismatched chairs. There were chunky floorboards and the walls were painted almost black, covered with mirrors of all sizes that left you unsure of the size of the place and messed with your head a little.

  Taking up almost the whole rear and much of the right side of the tiny room was a shiny bar, behind which was a very large, very expensive coffee machine and stacks of cups and other necessary items.

  The cafe was deserted apart from someone behind the bar with her back to us, long golden hair looking salon fresh, the ties of her apron leading my eyes down to a bottom pressing firmly against a smart pair of generic black trousers. I knew that hair, I certainly knew that bottom.

  This was Candy, the woman who'd chastised us both. The boss. And a waitress? Coffee maker? Whatever you called it.

  "Hey, I found a friend," said Steve, sounding genuinely happy about it, which did my ego no end of good.

  Candy turned and looked at me with less than welcoming eyes, but I took that as a good sign. At least I wasn't hated. "Hello, Candy, nice to meet you again. I love this place, is it yours?"

  "Yeah, it's mine. What, you think I can't afford it?"

  "Huh? No, I'm sure a woman of your intelligence can get whatever she wants. I was just making conversation, breaking the ice so to speak."

  "Hmm."

  Wow, usually my charm worked a little better than that. I think she was still a little annoyed about me not handing over the ashes, even though at that point none of us knew what all the fuss was about. Did they know now? About Mikalus?

  "You screwed us all," came a scream before something heavy and shiny swung at my head.

  Yeah, they knew.

  A Coffee

  I ducked, which I always tried to do when heavy things were aimed squarely at my head, and the metal bat—and trust me, I don't think she actually played baseball—whooshed past, catching just the top of my hat. Relief was replaced with horror turning to fury as the feather that had been there for years fell to the polished wooden counter in two pieces.

  The only sound was the coffee machine steaming as everyone stared at the broken feather.

  "I should kill you for what you've done," I hissed through teeth clenched so tight I got an instant headache.

  "It's just a feather," said Candy, but I could tell she knew that was a lie as her dark, almost black eyes met my flashing gaze. Her words trailed off. She knew damn well it wasn't a mere feather.

  I said nothing, waiting.

  "Hey guys, c'mon. Candy, why'd you do that? You know Arthur here's a good guy. He's our friend."

  "Was," I said, still keeping eye contact with Candy.

  "I'm sorry. I've got a temper. But you healed the vamps, and we don't like them and they don't like us."

  "Wonder why? Maybe it's because you go around trying to bash people's heads in." I picked up a piece of the feather in each hand but even as I did so a faint wisp of stored magic leaked out through the snapped hollow quill and was gone.

  "You helped them," she said defensively, bobbing a little from one foot to the other, her pale cheeks spotted with red.

  "You were there, you saw what happened. And I'm sure you know the rest of the story. But in case not here's a quick refresher. None of us knew. Only Cerberus and the vamps knew what was in the box when we met. Nigel fooled me, wanted to sell it to them. He got what he deserved. But then they came for me, and I had to give it to the vampires. I still didn't know what it was, then they resurrected Mikalus."

  "We know
all that," she said waving the bat and dismissing my story.

  "Then you know I'm not the one responsible. Hell, you guys were there to see to it that Nigel got the ashes from me, so he could sell them to the vampires. You're as much to blame as me. But I'm smart enough to know you aren't at fault, that we all acted out of greed, but we didn't know. And anyway, the vampires have always mostly been peaceful, don't interfere with anyone else, don't kill needlessly. They keep a tight rein on their people, and I have it on good authority that isn't about to change any time soon."

  Candy looked from me to Steve and he nodded vigorously, patted me on the back and said, "She knows. Right, Candy?"

  "Damn, okay, maybe you're right. But you still gave them the ashes."

  "And I didn't know until it was too late. Look, they held my daughter, they invaded my home, all to perform the resurrection. If anyone should be pissed at them it's me."

  Candy's eyes went wide, and she lowered the bat and put it back behind the counter. "Damn, I didn't know. Sorry. Is she okay, your daughter?"

  "She's fine, better than fine. But the vampires, they're like you, like me. They just want to belong, have a family. They had a chance to get the man they call Father, the firstborn back, and they took it. Who could blame them for that?"

  "Ha, my dad was a douche, I'd leave him to rot," said Candy.

  "Tell me about it," I agreed, a rare moment where I spoke a word about my dad.

  "Friends?" I asked, putting out my hand, forcing calm over myself, knowing she was a hothead and hadn't meant to bash my brains in. Much. Shifters were like that, which was why most in our world didn't deal with them. They were volatile, many couldn't control the animal inside, and death and violence was natural for them because of their nature.

  But I wasn't in a position to judge, and some friends right now, plus a coffee, would be great.

  "Friends." Candy took my hand and we shook. Her skin was soft, her handshake firm, and I got a hint of her perfume, her musk, and almost asked her to marry me.

  She felt the tingle, the swapping of pheromones, and I caught her sigh once before she pulled back to a safer distance. Ha, The Hat still had it, which was good to know.

  I forced myself to not look down at her chest, hidden behind a simple white polo shirt and an apron, somehow finding such an outfit alluring. She breathed deep, maybe trying to calm herself, maybe trying to shake the moment that had passed between us.

  Over the years I'd been told I had this effect on certain women. Not a physical attraction to my looks as such, more something intangible that drew them to me. A sexual magnetism when they got into my space, got close enough. Maybe it was the rugged, wild man look, or the knowledge that I was a wizard, but it had been a long time, a very long time, since I'd had that effect, thinking I was past alluring women with a smile and tilt of my hat.

  "So," said Candy, eyes darting to the feather, "was that really from a, you know?"

  "Yeah, it was," I said, suddenly depressed.

  "What? From a what? Was it something special?" asked Steve.

  "It's a feather from a Firebird. Sorry, Arthur, I didn't think, didn't act politely. Can you replace it?"

  "No, I can't. Don't worry about it," I said, forcing down my disappointment. I'd had it for twenty years and it was special, acted as a conduit to draw down certain magic into my hat and into myself with ease, but I also knew it was more symbolic now than anything else, same as any external influence was. Yes, it was an artifact of sorts, but more a visual aid to magic I could perform just as well without it after so many years. But still, she broke it!

  "You idiot, Candy. I can't believe you snapped it. That's priceless," said Steve, putting an arm around my shoulder in consolation.

  "I know. Sorry. Can I buy you a coffee?" asked Candy, looking genuinely sorry.

  "Sure."

  So it was, only having cost me the last feather of the now extinct Firebird, that I made two new friends that day.

  Our friendship was tested just as I was draining my coffee, when someone all too familiar walked through the door looking mightily pissed off.

  Sneaky Sidekick

  Vicky didn't look happy. In fact she looked extremely unhappy. With me. I considered cowering under the table and pretending I wasn't there, but figured that wasn't the image I wanted to convey to my new buddies. I was tempted though.

  "You locked me in your basement!" she shouted, veins popping on her forehead like she'd taken up weightlifting.

  "Thought you'd like the peace and quiet," I protested, scanning the room for exits. No such luck. I'd have to get past her, run to the back, and hope the fire exit led somewhere.

  "Dude, you locked her in a basement? Not cool," said Steve, frowning. His eyebrows changed color and thickened, blunt bristles of black and white fur pushing through the skin as I watched.

  "She was tired. I told my daughter to let her out this evening. It's not like it's pervy or anything. I wasn't going to keep her down there and use her as a sex slave." I knew I was babbling and not helping matters, but she surprised me.

  "What are you talking about, mate? Who said anything about that?" Steve's hairs receded, but it was obvious he was a gallant fellow, just like me, and didn't take kindly to the mistreatment of women. He went up in my estimation immensely then.

  "Arthur, you are one odd fellow, anyone ever tell you that?" said Candy, her head craned forward, peering at me as if to fathom what kind of wacko I was.

  "Nope, never," I lied.

  "I tell him that all the time," said Vicky, still standing with her hands on her hips, all angry and looking cute as she tried to intimidate me. It was working.

  "You look nice," I said to change the subject. "Are those George's clothes?"

  "Who's George?" asked Steve.

  "My daughter."

  "Yes, she lent me them. Bit big, and I feel overdressed, but..." Vicky brushed at the pencil skirt, then adjusted the pastel-pink blouse. It suited her. She looked pretty. Less like the mannequin from a cheap sports store she usually impersonated with expertise.

  "You look very attractive, very pretty," I said hurriedly. "You should dress up more. Make an effort." Damn, I was ballsing this up in a major way.

  Steve looked at me in shock, Candy slapped me across the cheek, Vicky stepped forward and stomped on my foot, and so I slapped my other cheek, said, "Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying. You always look very nice, and I know you don't normally have the time to make yourself presentable for—"

  "Mate, I'd stop there if I were you," interrupted Steve, resting a hand on my arm and giving me a look full of pity.

  "Yeah, think maybe you're right." I leaned back in my chair as Steve leaned forward in his and Candy stood.

  "Hi, I'm Candy."

  "And I'm Steve." Steve stood then, and they all shook hands.

  Not wanting to be left out, I got up and said, "Hi, I'm Arthur, and sometimes I'm a dick." I put my hand out.

  "Most of the time," said Vicky, but she took my hand. "Don't do that again," she warned.

  "I won't. Sorry, I needed some space, and I knew you'd want to tag along until you know who turns up."

  "Ooh, a mystery," said Steve. "What you been up to?"

  "We went and found the—"

  "The first rule of being a sidekick is you don't blather like an utter noob," I interrupted before Vicky spilled the beans.

  "I thought the first rule was to do as I was told? Or was it to not shout?"

  "I changed it. Especially for you, my dear, awesome, motormouth helper."

  "Hey!"

  Vicky pulled out a chair and we all sat. So much for my time away from Vicky and her obsession with getting into trouble.

  "Um, how did you find me?" I asked. "And how did you escape? Did George let you out?"

  Vicky folded her arms across her blouse and I noticed Steve stealing a cheeky glance right where her arms crossed her chest. Vicky must have noticed it too, as little minx that she was, she lowered them then shoved them back up, t
rying, and succeeding, in creating an impressive cleavage. Steve coughed and edged his seat over to her.

  The effect was instant. She became flustered, eyes moving this way and that as if it were obvious what she was feeling, and she brushed at her ponytail before scraping her chair closer to her new admirer.

  "Arthur," she lectured, "you aren't the only one with special skills. I'm not totally new to this, you know."

  "So George did let you out?" I said, nodding.

  "Yes. But," she added hurriedly, "I still found you."

  I thought for a moment but couldn't figure out how. "Okay, I give in."

  "Tracked you, via your phone."

  "Damn. You can do that?"

  "Duh." Vicky suddenly sprang to her feet, pulled at her blouse, and said, "Is it hot in here?"

  "Nope," I said. I put my arms behind my head and enjoyed the show.

  "Can I get you a glass of water?" asked Steve, jumping up and moving closer.

  Candy rose, and she too stepped up very close to Vicky. "Or would you like anything else?"

  If Vicky had run out screaming I wouldn't have been surprised, but she held her ground, said, "Some water would be nice, thank you," and then turned, as we all did, as a shadow blocked the doorway. A tap, tap, tapping could be heard as a man entered the cafe.

  "Hell, what is this, a bloody come annoy Arthur day? I just wanted some peace." Was nowhere safe? Was there nowhere I could go to be alone?

  "Now look what you've done," I said to Vicky.

  "Me, why are you blaming me?"

  "Because you're annoying."

  "Hello, Arthur. Vicky," said Nathan.

  Steve crunched, Candy coughed, Vicky squeaked, and I growled.

  Then more dark shapes crowded around the entrance. I knew they weren't here for a coffee.

  Vicky Goes Nuts

  "You bastard," screamed Vicky, and she flung herself at Nathan like a rabid dog, just a very small one.