Falin shrugged. His hands were empty now, the stack of glamoured clothing having vanished as soon as the door had closed. “I was thinking that cooperating over little things would look better for you. Unless you want to explain to the OMIH and MCIB how your own private space unfolded for you with a Faerie castle inside.”
Yeah, that wasn’t high on my to-do list. I was still attempting to pass for human as much as I could.
“What I forgot to take into account is how close it is to dawn,” he said, looking up as if he could see the rising sun through the ceiling.
I followed his gaze, frowning. “Glamours break at dawn, right? But the exact moment has passed. Faerie magic should be flooding back into the world by now.”
His brow creased and he studied my face as if searching for some kind of recognition I clearly wasn’t giving.
“What?” I hissed.
“You still can’t feel the ebb and flow of Faerie magic, can you?”
I didn’t answer, and that must have been answer enough, because his lips compressed into a tight line. I’d spent most of my life with my fae nature sealed away by a spell my father had put on me before I was even born. The seal had been crumbling since the Blood Moon months ago, and had theoretically been fully ripped away the night of the Fall Equinox, but there were still several parts of my newly discovered nature that weren’t working for me. Glamour for one. And apparently, sensing ambient Faerie magics.
“I wouldn’t exactly say it rushes back into the world,” Falin said, and shook his head. “If I weave a glamour now, it will be relatively weak. I’ll have to reinforce it later.”
“Do it. We’ve been in here too long already.”
He nodded and his hands lifted to my waist. An electric zing shot through me that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with Falin touching me. A tinge of guilt met the response in equal portions. I glanced away, trying not to let it show on my face, but surely the way my skin seemed to tighten gave me away.
If he noticed, he was good enough not to show it. Instead he knelt, trailing his hands over my hips. It was oddly businesslike and intimate at the same time. And it was really, really awkward. As his hands moved, my silk shorts darkened and lengthened. His hands glided down to my knees and then over my calves, and as he moved, buttery soft black leather crawled down my legs until I was wearing a pair of pants nicer than anything I actually owned.
He stood and lifted the bottom hem of my cami, rubbing the material between his fingers as if testing what it was made of. Then he placed his hands on my shoulders and trailed them slowly down my arms. The thin straps of the camisole seemed to swell, becoming thicker, growing to follow his fingers but also rippling down the shirt until I wasn’t wearing a camisole but a purple V-neck sweater. I turned and looked in the mirror. It was similar to a sweater I wore often, but like the pants, it was softer and better-quality than anything I owned. The outfit fit better too, hugging every curve as if it had been painted on, which, in a way, it had.
“Nice,” I said, fingering the sleeve of the sweater. It was so soft, it had to be some sort of cashmere blend.
By the time I turned back around, Falin had on what appeared to be his typical oxford button-up. He had shoes too. Which was a very good idea.
“I hate to ask . . . but if she wants me to go somewhere with her . . .” I lifted my bare foot.
Falin shook his head. “It was hard enough stretching what little material you’re wearing as far as I did. If I re-created your boots from scratch, they’d never hold.” He reached out and lifted the necklace I wore. “Your chameleon charm seems to be helping maintain the clothes, but I don’t trust it enough to try boots. And, of course, the standard glamour warnings: Stay away from iron, don’t let your planeweaving magic disbelieve it out of existence, and put on real clothes before sunset, or you’ll very suddenly find yourself only half dressed again.”
I nodded. “Well, we better get back out there.”
“One more thing.” He reached out and ran a hand through my hair. Curls fell free of the knotted, windswept mess to bounce lightly down my neck.
“Okay, now that’s a trick I need to learn,” I said, glancing at the mirror. It was just glamour, I knew, but they felt like they were free of tangles. It would have taken me another shower, an hour working out knots, and some styling products to get my curls to look this nice. This was definitely a trick I needed to add to my arsenal.
Except for my bare feet, we looked totally presentable now. I pulled the magic back out of the privacy charm, releasing the soundproof bubble, then led Falin out of the bathroom.
Briar had commandeered the one chair in the small apartment, my bar stool, and had a folder with several sheets of paper spread across the short bar. She looked up as we walked back into the room, then very pointedly glanced at her watch, but she didn’t comment. Instead she gathered the papers, shuffling them back into the folder.
“So,” I said, sitting down on my bed once again. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here so early?”
“No shoes?” she asked, glancing at my feet.
Was she stalling? What was going on? She’d barged in here, but she seemed to keep finding reasons not to tell me whatever she’d come to say.
“They’re not up here,” I said, which was the truth. They weren’t downstairs either, but she didn’t have to know that. She frowned, still staring at my bare feet. “Do I need shoes, Briar? Am I going somewhere?”
She sighed and shook her head. Her mouth screwed together hard, like she didn’t want to admit what she was about to say, but finally she said, “I have it on good authority that I’m going to need your assistance to solve this case. I’m here to hire you.”
Chapter 10
I stared at Briar. All this buildup and . . . “You want to hire me? And not that I’m refusing, but exactly who is the ‘good authority’ who told you that you would need me to solve the case?”
Briar still looked like she’d swallowed something bitter. “My partner.”
“Do I know her?” I hadn’t even known she had a partner. I’d thought she was a one-woman ass-kicking machine.
“Him. And no, you’ve never met him. Remember when I said the MCIB has great premonition witches? Well, he’s one of the best. And when prophecies plague his dreams, and he wakes up raving about how I’m going to need your help, then I drive my ass over here to wake you up.”
Now it was my turn to grimace. It was rarely good when you showed up in a premonition witch’s prophecies. The future they saw was typically written in stone. Many wyrd abilities were considered difficult to live with; the magic used the witch as much as it was used, but prophecy was a particularly potent burden—most premonition witches went mad before they reached adulthood.
“What did this prophecy entail?” I asked, not sure I actually wanted to know.
Briar shrugged. “That’s all he told me.” The look on my face must have betrayed my skepticism because she continued by saying, “He’s thirty-two and still sane. He’s found a way to manipulate the best possible outcome out of his prophecies, so I don’t question him. He tells me what I need to know, and I don’t push him for more. If I’m going to solve this case, I need to work with you, so I will.” She pulled a page from the folder in her hands. “Regardless of what cards and certifications you carry from the Organization of Magically Inclined Humans, I think we both know you’re not strictly human. So I drew up a hire agreement to ensure that there are no misunderstandings about debt.”
I cringed internally but accepted the paper when she passed it to me. Falin stepped closer, reading the document over my shoulder. I didn’t stop him. While his loyalties weren’t always clear when it came to the Winter Queen, he was a friend who generally had my best interests in mind. He’d point out anything that could leave me compromised, probably.
I read the document carefully, but there was nothing blatantly unusual in it. The contract would hire me at a generous daily rate that would encompass any hours I worked with Briar or on the case independently. If I accepted the job, I would be agreeing to work the case for the listed fee without expecting additional compensation for any magic performed, information shared, or injury sustained during the case. That last bit wasn’t exactly reassuring, but overall, the document was simply a way to cover one’s ass and avoid incurring debt from a manipulative fae. It was smart—I’d have to keep a copy in case I ever needed it.