Fairyville (Fairyville #1)(39)
Author: Emma Holly

Those had all been dead ends, though a janitor had remembered Zoe being there. "That Miss Clare is a sweet, sweet girl," he’d said. "Before she passed, my momma had the Sight like she does. One night, Miss Clare and I sat in the cafeteria trading stories for two whole hours. My supervisor nearly fired me for coming back on shift so late, but I didn’t care. Laughing with that Miss Clare made me feel like a boy again."

Alex didn’t feel like a boy, or at least not like the boy he’d been. He was used to being confident with women, used to knowing most were happy with his company. With Zoe, he wasn’t sure where he stood, or if he should care. He only knew the simple thought of seeing her had him breaking into a sweat.

Bryan wasn’t there to act as buffer. He was hunting for a hotel that could put them up, both of them having decided that discretion was the better part of valor when it came to the Vista Inn. Bryan’s absence increased Alex’s anxiety and his arousal. If this went the way he hoped, he and Zoe would be alone together soon.

Don’t be an idiot, he told himself as he yanked her street door open, causing a brisk jingle. Just because she’s forgiven you doesn’t mean she’ll hop into bed. Or that you should be considering inviting her to.

Fifteen years was a lot of water under the bridge. Zoe had experience now, and a possible boyfriend, which could also be said about him.

Alex’s face twisted. This thing with Bryan wasn’t turning out as casual as he’d expected, certainly not on his side. He was forced to acknowledge—and not happily—that both Bryan and Zoe had his c**k sitting up to beg. He was thickening as he stepped into the quiet, air-conditioned space, as if he were expecting to get lucky here. A murmur from behind the closed office door told him Zoe must be with a client. Considering the bitterness his expression probably held, it was just as well she wasn’t out front to greet him.

He took a moment to compose himself and look around. Zoe’s Reading Gallery, as the lettering on the window declared it, was as welcoming as her home. The antique floorboards were silver beneath his feet, the walls hung with local crafts and desert photographs. The old-fashioned junk shop furniture looked as if ghosts and clients would feel equally comfortable "sitting a spell" in it.

Alex smiled at that. This was a well thought out business. His little Zoe, once Fairyville’s biggest misfit, had come into her own.

The sound of a door opening behind him turned him around.

"Hey," Zoe said from the threshold of her office. "I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon."

She was cuddling her black and white kitten beneath her chin, the little fuzzball purring loud enough to hear across the room. It was a reaction Alex understood a bit too well; those were nice br**sts Corky was snuggled up against. As if to add to the Norman Rockwell flavor of the moment, a ray of sunlight slanted in the window to strike her face, firing up a halo of dust motes around her head. The sight of her smiling softly between Corky’s ears, the essence of who she was shining in her eyes, drew every drop of blood closer to his skin.

Alex knew the truth then. He would never get over being in love with her. Never tire of that hint of wryness in her sweetest smiles. Never stop yearning to connect with her. She was his first real love, and it was never going to be over.

His lungs went hollow at the revelation, and his voice broke slightly when he tried to speak.

"I… thought I’d see if you were free to visit Fairy Falls. So far the rest of our leads aren’t panning out."

Zoe bit her lip for a tempting second, the pressure of her teeth on that plump pink cushion making him want a bite of it himself.

"I’m free," she said. "I just finished a phone consultation, my last appointment for the day. I’ll get Corky’s stuff together, and we can go."

"Great," he said. "I have a feeling this is going to help."

She raised her brows at him, a brief sardonic quirk that let him know she’d heard the things he hadn’t meant to say as clearly as the things he had.

Magnus decided it was time to remember who and what he was, i.e., not a helpless human.

He’d gone on his usual rounds, checking in on his artists to make sure all was well with them. He loved his proteges. Their creativity amazed him, and he enjoyed nothing better than guiding them to shine a little brighter in the public eye—whether that meant underwriting new equipment or helping to arrange a show. As far as he was concerned, they did the deepest magic—for what was magic but creating something out of thin air? Some days, letting them know that was all his job required. Today, his heart hadn’t been in the usual friendly exchanges. Today, his attention had been sucked away by the one gifted person he wasn’t checking on.

He had nothing to say to Zoe he hadn’t said last night, nothing to do that he hadn’t done. Changelings weren’t unheard of in the human realm. On any day, Zoe’s world might harbor a few hundred. They fit in, more or less, because they didn’t know what they were. But Magnus was something else. Magnus was an illegal alien, one with secrets. He didn’t know what would happen if humans discovered his kind lived among them, or if they learned the trick to opening Fairy’s door. Magnus trusted Zoe not to repeat anything he said, but his paranoid and power-hungry mother had only to fear humans might obtain this information, and extreme measures were the least of what she’d attempt.

Titania’s ability to scry outside her realm might be iffy, but that was no reason for her son to throw caution to the winds. He wasn’t exactly on her Most Trusted list since he’d escaped.

It was his misfortune to be the queen’s only son, her only hope of turning her line into a dynasty. Magnus’s father had been an extraordinary power. Titania had married him to unite their formerly separate realms. When they’d divorced, Jovian had split the realms apart again, taking his people and his magic into what humans would have called an alternate universe. Ever since, Titania had dedicated herself to pressuring others—Magnus foremost among them—to compensate her for the loss.

The idea that he’d share his secrets with a human for the purpose of convincing that human to let him do what he needed to stay here for good would drive Titania insane.

Assuming, of course, that she wasn’t insane already.

Magnus pressed his aching head between his palms. He stood barefoot in a special structure he’d added to his property several years ago. From the outside, it resembled a traditional sweat lodge. From the inside, it was a small round bunker lined over every surface, including the floor, with fluorite and amethyst. Magnus had more respect than Zoe for the power of stones. In his experience, they were wonderful focuses for intent. What he’d devised for this hideaway was a psychic shield, one that would bar even his mother’s minions from entry.