Fixing Fae Problems Read online

  My mom was still unaware of the temporary hitch in my employment.

  I took the phone and nudged the cactus toward Marta. “Keep the cactus until I’m back, will you?”

  Marta used one finger to push the cactus out of the way. “It’ll keep.”

  “Thanks. Catch up later?”

  “Don’t spam me.”

  In Marta Speak, and considering how our conversation had gone, that could mean anything from “beware, phones being monitored” to “text me twice and you’re getting blocked.” I decided to assume the for-mer. As far as 1 was concerned, until Aidan was back in the Institute and the artifact collection back inside his vault, paranoia was my best

  friend.

  Once again, nobody stopped me when I exited the Institute. The morning was still bright, the air crisp, and I meandered my way back home, barely seeing where I was going while my brain busied itself with what I had learned.

  So, Aidan was still detained by the Council, and the new director had lost no time in seeing what artifacts he was dealing with. Was this new director the person behind the attack on the Institute? No, that would be too obvious. Aidan had friends in the Council; something so ham-fisted wouldn’t have flown.

  Luckily, since Aidan was the only one who knew how to open the dangerous artifacts’ vault, it left me with some leeway.

  I still believed they wouldn’t torture him for the information, so they would probably attempt what I was about to attempt on whoever was behind this—fnd a way to convince-slash-blackmail him into submission,

  The problem was, what if the artifact this “whoever” wanted was too

  dangerous to let loose in the wild? There had to be a reason Aidan kept it in his super vault.

  And this was where another step in my amazing middle-of the-night plan came into play. Once I figured out who this person was, I would find their enemies and work with them. Voila! No need to put any dangerous artifact in play.

  All bridges to be crossed later, though.

  For now, all I had to do was find this person.

  Lord Velei definitely knew who it was—he had happily dropped hints left and right during our encounter in Faerie. Unfortunately, this was a full-on no-go zone. He had a bone to pick with me, and he would most definitely want the Keeper back. There was no chance I would get away with trying to trick him a third time.

  Then there was Ren, Aidan’s distant Fae cousin. He might’ve heard something—in fact, I’d bet my life that he had—but I had no way of

  contacting him unless I wanted to brave Lord Velei’s house and wait for

  him in his family’s room. Something told me that wasn’t going to go well.

  The memory of my last attempt at summoning him flashed through my mind.

  Yay for having the memory, but a hard pass on repeating the ig-nominy of the attempt.

  That left me with only one other possible source of information— Lockhart.

  He had been the one hired to put the spell on the box—he had happily admitted to it—and he had no beef with Aidan or the Institute as far as I knew. He might be agreeable to some kind of deal. A horrible, dismal, bad deal, but a deal.

  I left my phone home, worried they might use it to track me. No-body would think twice of a woman stuck home playing video games after getting sacked from her job.

  The seeker, I clipped to one of my jeans’ beltloops. The

  spell-sensing bracelet went into one of my pockets. The Eye-dagger… Shoot, I was going to need another backpack, wasn’t I?

  After rummaging in my moms closet, I found an old messenger bag. It’d do. I stuffed the dagger inside, ignoring its profound look of reproach, and added a few other essentials, just in case. Panties, cook-jes, a notebook, and a pen.

  Just holding the pen gave me the itch to begin writing random things—an unfortunate leftover from the memory spell. To appease the urge, I wrote my mom a note warning her I might be out of touch fora while due to work and pinned it to the fridge.

  You’d think that being involved in the part-Fae world and being fully aware of how dangerous it could be, my mom and | would’ve prepared some kind of exit strategy, or had some sort of go-bag at the very least, right? Nope. No such luck.

  I gave our apartment a last, lingering glance. I had the strange feeling I wasn’t going to be seeing it again for quite a while. That was silly,

  of course—whatever was going to happen would solve itself quickly. Ei-ther I worked out how to get Aidan freed fairly fast, or I’d get caught and die a horrible death while being tortured for the location of the artifacts. With this cheerful thought, I went off to see the sorcerer.

  I used the main entrance of the Hub—no use in being sneaky. I was trying to project the image of normalcy, and what was more normal than Maddie Dover prancing around the Hub?

  The lobby was full, as usual on a weekday morning. I kept my face averted, went up to the mall-like second floor, and made my way along the horseshoe corridor with unhurried, sure steps. The perfect image of someone with nothing to worry about, and who was most definitely not plotting anything.

  If only I could stop strangling the strap of the messenger bag like my life depended on its demise.

  Lockhart’s Tea & Infusions stood as decaying as the last time I had been here. Which made sense, since that had been the day before. How was it possible so much had happened, so much had changed, in the span of twenty-four hours? Surely there must be some super-powerful

  spell at work.

  Aidan would say the spell was called “life.” but ] wasn’t totally con-vineed.

  The ancient backing of the display window offered no chance at see-ing if anyone was inside, so 1 cupped my hands against the door’s glass and found what might be a human shape sitting behind the counter.

  It had to be Lockhart. 1 doubted his assistant had returned to the store so soon after being taken to the hospital unconscious. Taking a deep breath—better out here than in the stuffy air inside—I pushed open the door and went into the store.

  “How can I help you? Feel free to browse,” came a bored voice from behind the counter. It was neither Lockhart nor his assistant, but a young man sitting on a stool, hunched over something and paying me no attention.

  “Tim?” I asked in surprise.

  He looked up and smiled. “Oh, hey, Maddie. What’s up?”

  Tim was another temp worker my old boss Joe kept on his roster.

  With the majority of the world unaware of the Fae’s existence, any business involved with anything Fae tended to have problems filling in temp workers who were in the “in.” Joe provided capable part-Fae temp

  workers at reasonable rates and utmost speed. It had been perfect for me while I’d waited for the Institute to accept one of my applications.

  I walked up to the counter. Tim went to put his phone on top of the grimy glass but thought better of it at the last second. Smart man.

  “Joe stuck you here?” I said, glancing around. The gloominess of the place hadn’t changed at all. The weak yellow glare of the overhead lights still left everything in shadows, and dusting was obviously not one of Tim’s official duties. 1 wondered if I should warn him about the family of bugs in one of the jars on the shelves—who knew what they would mutate into if they ate any more of Lockhart’s herbs?

  “It’s not too bad.” Tim waved his phone and tilted his head. “I got rechargers in there.”

  I followed the direction of his tilt and saw a backpack leaning

  against the wall. “Nice.”

  “What can I do for you?” He scrunched his nose. “Don’t buy any of the teas. They’re ancient.”

  I chuckled, leaning against the counter out of habit then regretting it immediately. “I need to talk to Lockhart.”

  “He’s in the hospital.”

  Hmmm. It made sense that Lockhart was keeping up the charade. Bet-ter if whoever had tried to kill him still thought his assistant was him, in case they wanted to try again. Heartless, but better. “Then
who asked for a temp worker?”

  “His manager, I think. I only got a phone number.”

  “Can you call him? Tell him I need to speak to him?”

  Tim grimaced. “I’m not supposed to call, only text him orders. Joe said Lockhart’s clients already know how it works.” He eyed me spec-ulatively. “I didn’t know you were a client.”

  “Am not. I just need to speak to him.”

  “Don’t worry. | had to sign about a dozen magical NDAs before I started work. If I tell anyone what you order, my tongue will fall off or something.”

  “Damn,” I said, impressed. “The pay must be amazing.”

  He waved his phone again, a sly expression on his face. “Let’s just say it’s going to help me make some headway into my favorite games.”

  “Seriously, I don’t need an order. But it’s important I get in contact with him. Please, text him?”

  “I don’t know…” He hesitated. “The pay is really good.”

  “You won’t get fired,” I assured him. “I met Lockhart’s, uh, manager yesterday. He’ll be waiting to hear from me.”

  Tim narrowed his eyes. “Then why don’t you call him?”

  “Lost my phone.”

  “I don’t know, Maddie. Joe said only orders.”

  It was in times like this that I wished the Institute had given me

  some kind of credentials I could slam on the counter like on TV. “It’s

  really important” I leaned in. “Tell him it’s Maddie Dover from the Magical Artifacts Retrieval & Research Institute. You won’t get in trouble, I swear.”

  “You finally got that job?” he said with happy surprise. “That’s awe-some, Maddie. Congrats.”

  I preened. “Yup.” Then added in a pleading tone, “Text Lockhart’s assistant, or manager, please?”

  Tim let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But if I get fired, you owe me two hundred rolls.”

  Knowing what I knew about phone games, I really hoped Lockhart would be as interested in meeting me as | thought he might and not fire Tim.

  Tim got busy on his phone, and I ambled around rather than standing in place and cutting my bag strap’s circulation again. The jars on the shelves hadn’t changed, and neither had the contents. After two circles around the center table and a sighting of what I truly hoped was

  simply animal brains, | settled back to standing in front of the counter.

  “How is it working for the Institute?” Tim asked, tapping his thigh with his phone. “Has everyone blocked you already?”

  “Ha, ha, very funny.”

  He grinned. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Seriously, though, how is it?”

  Like a damned roller coaster, I wanted to say. “It’s good. Pretty fun at times. They also put me behind a counter.” And I bet Tim got as many walk-in clients in here as I had at the Institute.

  “That sucks. But, hey, at least now you got upgraded to delivery girl, am I right?”

  I laughed, patting my bag. “Sort of”

  His phone pinged, and he swiped the screen. Frowning, he looked back at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Says to take a photo of you.”

  Apparently, paranoia was Lockhart’s best friend, too. I posed and gave Tim my most winning smile. “Go ahead.”

  Tim aimed his phone, and the shutter’s noise filled the room. We only had to wait a few seconds for the response.

  “He’s asking me if you’re alone,” he said.

  I wondered if I should point out that telling me kind of negated the point of the question. “Sure am.”

  Tim sent the answer. A few moments later, his frown cleared. “We’re in luck. Says he’ll come around in a few, and to wait in the back.”

  “Great. Thanks!”

  He pointed at the heavy brocade curtain. “It’s through there. Don’t touch anything, please. I’ve no idea what any of it is for.”

  “Sure,” I told him. “No problem.”

  The back room looked exactly the same, minus one unconscious guy

  on the floor. I found a stool and sat at the big table, regretting my

  decision to leave my phone at home. I could use some entertainment to take my mind off things. | poked at the packing material—brown paper and cardboard instead of bubble wrap. Too bad.

  I wondered how Aidan was doing right now. Was he bored out of his wits waiting for something to happen, or was he being questioned over and over in the hopes he’d break and admit to wrongdoing?

  Did he think of me fondly, or was he praying to all gods in existence that I wouldn’t mess this up and lose the artifacts? My track record wasn’t the best, I had to admit, but I did get things done eventually. He had to have some faith in me, otherwise he wouldn’t have given me the memory of how to open the vault.

  What’s more, I thought suddenly, snapping to attention, since he had given me those memories, had he lost them now? Was I the only one around who knew how to open the small vault?

  The weight of the responsibility made me shudder in horror.

  On the other hand, the vault was empty now, so maybe it wasn’t

  that big of a deal. When it came down to the worst-case scenario, not much difference between being tortured for the vault’s combination and being tortured for the artifacts’ location. 1 was sure they wouldn’t take as much care to extract the information out of me as they would with Aidan. I had no Fae Lord “uncle,” nor any weight with the Council. If they suspected I knew anything, I’d be in big trouble.

  Unwilling thoughts of the different ways they could use to obtain the information out of me occupied my thought processes for a little while, but at least I no longer regretted leaving my phone behind.

  Eons and several disastrous attempts at brown paper origami later, the lock on the back door clicked open. I shot off the stool and snuck my hand into the bag, fingers closing around the Eye-dagger’s handle.

  Belatedly, I realized I should’ve taken the Eye off first, but the door was already opening.

  Lockhart appeared on the threshold, wearing a similar outfit as the day before—a black long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. He scanned the

  room with suspicious eyes before entering.

  “I’m alone,” I told him.

  He ignored me and went to the curtain separating us from the front of the store.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m Lockhart’s manager. Go take a walk for fifteen minutes. I got this.”

  “Sure, boss,” I heard Tim say.

  Lockhart stood guard until the front door closed. There was no chime or bell connected to that door, yet the sound of it opening or closing was always crystal clear, even through the heavy curtain. Some sort of spell, ] guessed. Lockhart was a powerful sorcerer, after all.

  In his own words, Fae had more raw power, but sorcerers like him—part-human descendants from a maternal Fae line—had a lot more control.

  Lockhart turned to study me and leaned a shoulder lazily against the

  wall. There was always a strange aura around him, halfway between

  trying to look cool and actually being cool.

  “A visit from the Institute so soon after our dealings yesterday,” he said. “Do you have news about my Skull already?”

  “Not quite,” I said slowly. I had to be careful about this—I needed something he had, and I had nothing he wanted. “But I’m sure Aidan is looking into it.” Or would be. At some point in the future. After he got the Institute back.

  Lockhart pursed his lips. “I’m here because you said you had an ur-gent matter to discuss. I don’t come all the way for just anyone, so this better be good.”

  “Or?” The word came out like some kind of wayward imp. Truly, I couldn’t help it.

  He smiled slowly. “Or I’ll have you speaking frogs for a year.”

  I harrumphed. “That’d probably cost you a frog every time you go to the bathroom.” The wonders of Fae magic and its tradeoffs.

  “You never know. It might si
mply cost me a second of sleep.” And

  judging by the dark circles under his eyes, that wouldn’t be too much of an expensive price.

  “Point taken,” I said, smoothing the front of the messenger bag. “I’m investigating your client. The one who hired you to put the spell on the box.”

  Lockhart left the wall and came closer, examining my face for signs of who knew what. “Any side effects from the potion?”

  “No,” I answered, slightly taken aback. “But I still have a bit of an urge to write things down.”

  His gaze fell to the paper origamis. “Not that much of an urge, it seems.” He sounded somewhat disappointed.

  “It’s not a compulsion like while under the spell,” I said dryly.

  He flashed me some teeth then held out a hand. “Let me check if the spell is completely gone.”

  I recalled the way he had held my wrists the day before, the way his

  magic had become one with my pulse until my blood had felt out of

  place in my body.

  I also recalled that he was a sorcerer, and I didn’t feel like getting another spell put on me.

  “I’m all right, thanks.”

  He actually pouted. “You sure? It’s free of charge.”

  “Maybe another time. But if you want to help free of charge, you could tell me about your client.” Even I was surprised at how smooth that had come out.

  “I told you yesterday. Client confidentiality.”

  “Is that an actual thing?” I asked, doubtful. “You had no trouble changing the terms of the deal for the potion. I’m sure you can find a way to change your terms for that, too.”

  He tut-tutted. “Goad all you want, it won’t work on me.”

  “Are you sure? It’s been known to work on bigger Fae than you.”

  He tucked his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “You can try,

  but it would be a waste of time, don’t you think? Tell you what, Maddie

  Downer of the Magical Artifacts R & R, help me find the Skull of Souls, and I’ll give you the name of my client as a thank you bonus.”

  I stared at him. Downer, really? “Aidan already promised to retrieve that.”

  “And he’s not much use to me right now, is he?”

  “Wait, you know about that?”