Whatever the reason, she put away her switchblade and collected her dagger. After slipping it into its sheath, she headed for the door. It clicked behind her, and she immediately heard the man start blubbering for his life.
He should’ve thought of that before inviting the fae into this territory. Now they had a potential nightmare on their hands. One that might show up at any time to collect a magical chalice that could ruin the human world as they knew it.
Well, this evening took a horribly unexpected turn…she thought as she reached the living room. Ava was long gone. She likely wouldn’t be back. Not that it mattered. All Daisy cared about was that apology video. And it better be heartfelt! Or at least seem like it, anyway. Mordecai was too good of a person to lose faith in humanity’s overall goodness. That was Daisy’s job, and one she took to with great vigor.
She flicked the switch to bring up the lights and scanned the various rooms. It was in the third bedroom that she found what she was probably looking for. Tables had been set out in rows. Objects of all shapes and sizes adorned the velvet-covered surfaces. Old rings not cute enough to be hot vintage items, old lamps, vases—the usual subjects of the antique world were present. She wasn’t much of a collector. They all looked like junk to her.
“Chalice…” she murmured to herself as she perused the farthest corner. Honestly, she didn’t even know what a chalice was. Like a goblet, apparently. A big cup of some sort…
She glanced at each item. Nothing fit the profile on the first table, so she moved on to the next. Nothing there, either, though she did see a very cool vintage watch that would look stunning with a particular outfit she was thinking of.
“Yoink,” she muttered, grabbing it up. Finders keepers. Last one to steal it wins.
A couple of gems, in bad need of a polish, caught her eye, but nothing too remarkable. Until she got to the far edge of the room.
A strange pulse of energy made her stop. A somewhat flat object lay against the black velvet, three inches long and two wide. The edges were jagged and one end curved up to a flat point. A black sheen covered a core that looked almost green, like it had hidden depths of deep emerald.
When her fingers brushed against the surface, the strange pulse materialized into a pleasant hum. The object looked dirty and bumpy, but the surface felt glass-smooth. She slid her thumb across. The hum intensified, vibrating up her palm. A basil-green light throbbed in the middle, transfixing her.
She pulled it closer, a sheen of sweat covering her brow. “What…” The glow blinked rapidly for a moment before fading away as though it had never been there. She stared, wondering if it would come back and feeling that hum continue to vibrate up her palm. Nothing.
It was magical, though. It must be. Nothing else in the room acted like this. Zorn might know what it was. Regardless, it wasn’t a cup and it wasn’t crystal. It wasn’t what she was looking for.
“Don’t mind if I do,” she murmured, checking to see which pocket might fit it best. None were long enough, though. It would fall out.
She slipped it into her shirt and nestled it into the little holding place in her bra, between her breasts. There was a lot of space to work with. Puberty hadn’t done a whole lot for her in that department. A custom-made bra and here she was, hiding shit in her boobs. Usually it was a weapon, but whatever. Desperate times…
At the end of the last table, she still hadn’t found what she was looking for. As she turned for the door, she noticed the stool peeking out from just behind. It was clearly intended to be missed when walking into the room.
After swinging the door out of the way, she looked down onto a purple velvet pillow holding a thick-walled goblet with a sturdy base.
“Hello, chalice,” she murmured. Clearly the idea was for the buyer to peruse the tables, grab anything of interest, and come back here for the item of the day.
It lay on its side, and the overall color looked almost pewter, with etchings of flowers and leaves on the sidesof the cup portion and geometric designs down the stem and around the bottom. The surface was cold to the touch and seemed heavier than it appeared. Areas looked worn, as though this item had long been in use and been somewhat polished to a smudged shine. Nothing else seemed inherently magical, but it might be that the user needed natural magic to unlock it. She didn’t qualify. The blood magic from Lexi didn’t count. At least, that was what she’d been repeatedly told, often accompanied by a sneer from people who hated a Chester being on their side of the magical line.
She secured her new watch around her wrist to use both hands and then bent for the pillow. A scream floated out of the bathroom. This wouldn’t be any fun for Mr. Bathtub. Zorn had a flare for ruthlessness. Hopefully the neighbors weren’t overly curious people…
She put the pillow in the middle of the living room with the chalice on top. Zorn would know not to take it with him. No one needed a fae tracking them down, not for any reason.
Hopefully he was about done.
She glanced at the apartment door but headed for the window. This building had two working cameras. She didn’t need proof floating around of her involvement in Mordecai’s life. He’d be really annoying to live with if he knew she was playing vigilante on his behalf.
Outside on the ledge, she worked her way to the corner. A soul, out of sight, popped up on her radar.Someone was out here with her, on the same ledge. Her scalp tingled in alarm as a hint of nervous anticipation wormed through her.
It was probably a neighbor wanting to see what the commotion was about without actually confronting the person causing it. It was what she would do. The fae client would just use the door. Their glamor would get them past the cameras, if they cared about them at all. Plus, only forty minutes had passed and this buyer was apparently not punctual. She and Zorn should still have time.
Regardless, she didn’t want to meet a new friend unprepared. Even low-powered magic could be fatal if it hit her head-on.
She pulled out a throwing knife. Stab and run. It was always the best practice for a Chester.
She kept walking until she was close enough to the corner for a good shot. The person continued nearer until reaching the turn. There they slowed to navigate going around. After a brief pause, a tall man with impossibly broad shoulders stepped into view.
Her stomach dropped out, and her world exploded in color. Her knees nearly lost their strength, making her wobble toward the wall. A delicious thrum she vividly remembered flowered in her body, competing with shock and surprise and incredibility.
No, not a man. A fae.
Her fae.
