Fairyville (Fairyville #1)(62)
Author: Emma Holly

"Look over my shoulder," she said, hoping this would work for Bryan. "Tell me what you see now."

"It’s still showing no—" Suddenly Bryan stiffened. "Shit." He blinked so hard she heard his eyelids click. "It’s there. Magnus Monroe is a fraud."

Zoe didn’t want to say it, but she did. "We have to call him on this."

Bryan’s arms were still circling her. They tightened comfortingly. "The explanation might not be as bad as you think."

He didn’t sound like he believed it, but he was sweet. Alex rubbed his hand up and down Bryan’s muscled arm. Oddly enough, Zoe got the impression that he was trying to reassure her, too.

"It’s nearly midnight," her old boyfriend said. "Nobody’s going to call anybody on anything until tomorrow."

The men exchanged glances, then looked at her.

"You’ll stay here tonight," Alex said, not letting it be a question.

Zoe flushed. Maybe this discovery should have changed her feelings about Magnus, and maybe she wouldn’t have minded playing a bit more with Alex and Bryan, but what would she think of herself if she let her heart’s decision be so easily swayed?

It hadn’t swayed anyway. Scary though it was, when she looked inside herself, it was still Magnus she yearned for.

"I don’t think—" she began, and then Bryan silenced her with a gentle hug.

"Just stay to snuggle," he said. "No night as special as we had should end with bad feelings."

Chapter Seventeen

Magnus needed a couple of cooperative ghosts to finish baiting the trap he was constructing in his faux sweat lodge. Calling spirits wasn’t his area of expertise, nor was he certain ten in the morning was the best time for it, so luckily he had Zoe’s hair to act as his lure. If the personal essence of a top-notch medium couldn’t bring ghosts out of the ethers, he didn’t know what would.

"You’re too tense," the boy fairy, Samuel, critiqued from his seat on Magnus’s left shoulder. "Zoe’s always more relaxed than this."

Magnus opened one eye to glare at him. It hadn’t been his idea to have company, but "Samuel the Stubborn," as the green-clad fairy had dubbed himself, was doing his best to live up to his name.

"Zoe’s had years of practice," Magnus pointed out. "And I doubt she’s ever tried to open up a hot spot for infernal beings to attack her through."

Unimpressed by the complaint, Samuel swung his feet against Magnus’s collarbone. "You’ve already decided to do it, and you know all the reasons why. It’s pointless to drag your heels because you’re pretty sure it won’t be fun."

Magnus was unable to argue that. This wasn’t going to be fun, but it was necessary, and if Magnus did it right, it would get his mother off Zoe’s case for good. With that to brace him, he drew a slow, deep breath and tried to relax.

"Oh, for magic’s sake," Samuel cried, jumping up before Magnus had a chance to fully blow out the breath. "I’ll do it."

Samuel’s idea of doing it was crying "Here, ghostie!" at the top of his little lungs. "Send messages to your loved ones! Tell them you forgive them and you’re all right! Arizona’s hottest medium is here for you!"

"You’re lying to them," Magnus hissed, taken aback. His plan had been to enlist willing participants.

"Oh, boo hoo," Samuel shot back in an undertone. "We’re only going to get a bunch of stupid newbies. They haven’t got anything important to say anyway."

With barely a pause, he filled his diminutive chest with air and continued his shrieking pitch. "No waiting! No being pushed aside like a pesky fly! All chatty ghosties will get their say!"

Apparently "Samuel the Shrill" was capable of piercing multiple dimensions with his fairy call. Magnus had just long enough to contemplate plugging his ears when at least a dozen wavering spirits showed up in a clump in his lodge’s dome, every one talking at top speed. Magnus couldn’t make out a single word, but that didn’t discourage them. In half a minute their combined spectral force had dropped the temperature ten degrees.

"There," Samuel said, swiping his palms against each other in satisfaction. "Now just let them go on for about five minutes. Their vibrations will create a thin spot a baby minion could get through."

Magnus eyed the nattering ghosts uneasily. He had a feeling letting them talk long enough wasn’t going to be the issue.

Titania sat at the dragonbone desk beside the window in her private tower. Outside, the sun was setting over her realm, its picture-perfect hills and castles bathed in scarlet and tangerine. She was mulling over the entertainment for her upcoming new moon ball. Normally, this would have soothed her. Six young fairies were coming into their full power tonight. Given the aptitude of her line for using charm in bed, she ought to be able to seduce a couple during the festivities. One could never have too many carnally enchanted allies, and if they sprang from the next generation, all the better.

It went without saying that Titania’s rule was supreme, but that didn’t mean she could ignore the rising grumbles of discontent from those nobles who—like her—numbered their centuries and not their years. Young flesh was more amenable to influence, if only because it required so much sex to be satisfied. Sadly, the thought of enjoying that flesh tonight did not improve her mood. She was a queen, and her crown lay heavy. Mere physical pleasure could not lighten it, not when her foolish son hadn’t been spotted in three whole months.

At her flare of anger, a tiny crack sizzled across the nearest windowpane.

Somehow, her sister Elena had found out about Titania’s unsuccessful attempt to woo Magnus through the portal. Now she was spreading the story of Titania’s failure to all her friends—including the fact that it was Magnus’s love for a human female that kept him there. Elena had the gall to declare her opinion that this was romantic, though this wouldn’t surprise anyone. Ever since her adoption of a changeling boy, Titania’s sister had been soft in the head.

The sound of further crackling drew her attention to the network of jagged lines now riddling the window glass. Titania waved her fingers at it impatiently, but was interrupted before her magic could mend the damage. One of her minions was materializing in a smoky mass above her black mirrored floor.

Hoping it wouldn’t take forever, Titania turned in her chair.

"Your Luminescence," it said unctuously once its mouth had formed. "We have good news."

"You had better," she snapped. "Otherwise, I may rethink my policy of not sending servants to my torturers."

This policy had been honored in the breach more than once—as her minions had cause to know.