Page 13 of A Dance with the Fae (Mistress of Magic #1)

The bell jingled as the shop door opened and Faye looked up hopefully. She knew it was silly, but Finn Beatha’s last words to her in that vivid dream still rung in her memory: You will know my words are true when I see you again. It will not be long before we are together again.

But, it was just a couple of tourists. Faye smiled at them and went back to her book, disappointed.

She wanted to see him. She wanted to hear the bell jingle as the shop door opened and see him there, in the doorway.

She craved him, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the dream.

In it – if Finn had really been there – he had told her that she was half faerie.

How was that even possible? She was human.

Moddie and Grandmother were human. She didn’t look in any way unusual, or have unusual faerie powers.

Sidhe-leth. Half fae. Now, she knew what it meant. She had looked it up.

The fae were an archaic Scottish legend, a part of Grandmother’s folk belief, nothing more.

It didn’t hurt anyone to believe in the Good Folk, but Moddie had raised Faye to consider the fae as outdated.

They weren’t real , not in the way that Finn Beatha was real: he had walked into the shop and talked to Faye.

She had watched him perform on stage. He had a solid, human body – albeit he was very tall and supernaturally good-looking. He dressed in normal clothes.

Yet, Faye had also seen a spectral being take Grainne Morgan’s hand just before she died, in her dream. And that spectral being had looked very like Finn.

What did that mean?

There was one answer, but she didn’t want to believe it.

Dreams and nonsense , she told herself. Yet, she didn’t believe in her own cynicism.

If she was sidhe-leth , half fae, what did that tell her about Finn Beatha? A man who was supernaturally good-looking and larger than life, who appeared in her life out of nowhere and had haunted her dreams. Dreams that were so powerful, Faye could hardly concentrate on her daily life.

She looked up at the door again, frowning. There was something else.

Grandmother’s hagstone charm was hanging in the doorway again.

It hadn’t been there when Finn Beatha had entered the shop.

Afterwards, she’d looked for it for over a week to no avail: she’d asked Aisha and Annie, and neither had taken it down or noticed it had gone.

Neither knew where it was. Faye had assumed that a customer must have stolen it, or that it had somehow got lost in the shop.

And, now it was back. Nobody had said they had found it.

That was odd. It must have been lost, and one of the girls found it and forgot to tell me, she thought.

Faye returned to her reverie about Finn Beatha.

She opened her grandmother’s grimoire and flicked through it. She didn’t often read it, nowadays, but it was on the shop counter from when she had used it for the love spell and hadn’t put it back in its usual place on a shelf behind the till.

She flicked past rituals for the equinoxes, observances for the different phases of the moon, spells for money, good luck, to silence an enemy. Then she came to the section she had been looking for.

The Faerie Kings and Queens .

She traced her finger over their names, their royal crests and the illustrations of their crowns. She didn’t quite know what she was looking for, but something had been nagging at the back of her mind since seeing Finn on stage.

In Murias, the realm of water, the king and queen are Fintanaeon, Master of the Tides, and Levantiana, Mistress of the Cup.

In Falias, the realm of earth, the king and queen are Lyr, Master of Mountains, and Moronoe, Mistress of the Stone.

In Gorias, the realm of air, the king and queen are Raphaeleon, Master of the Winds, and Tyronoe, Mistress of the Knife.

And in Finias, realm of fire, the king and queen are Attis, Master of Flame, and Thetis, Mistress of the Staff.

Fintanaeon, Master of the Tides, King of Murias.

It was a very close coincidence. Fintanaeon. Finn. Just a coincidence, surely.

Because Finn Beatha looked like he was in his thirties. Whichever Morgan woman had written and drawn the pages about the faerie kings and queens, it was either Grandmother or someone before her, meaning that Finn wouldn’t have been born then. It didn’t make sense.

Yet, something made Faye look more closely at the page.

Each faerie realm had a royal crest. Falias, the realm of earth, featured a tree and a mountain on its crest. Finias, the realm of fire, featured a blazing sword and what looked like a salamander or some other type of lizard. Gorias featured a bird’s wing and a tornado.

Murias’s crest was of a kelpie: a mythical water horse.

It was the same kelpie, the same water horse that Finn Beatha had tattooed on his chest. The same water horse that reared up his chest, its head resting on Finn’s muscular neck.

If Finn Beatha was Fintanaeon, King of Murias, he must be many hundreds of years old. That made no sense.

And Faye couldn’t think of any way that she could possibly be half faerie. Wouldn’t Moddie and Grandmother have told her? Wouldn’t she have noticed some odd traits about herself – though she didn’t know what they might be?

It was an outrageous suggestion. It wasn’t real life.

So, why did Finn Beatha insist on calling her half faerie?

The doorbell tinkled again. Faye looked up to see Rav enter the shop. She closed the grimoire, her heart beating. For a brief moment, she had thought that Finn Beatha might be the faerie king of Murias. What a ridiculous thought.

‘Good day, Mistress of Magic.’ Rav Malik tipped an imaginary cap to her and looked around at the shelves of incenses, tarot sets, books and a row of brightly polished brass cauldrons. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

Faye had temporarily forgotten about Rav. She had forgotten his large, wide, strong frame and his heavy brows; had forgotten the primal, bullish sense of him. Now that she saw him again, she was reminded of his inherent strength and masculine grace.

Rav was so different to Finn, so much more earthy, whereas Finn had a sense of transcendent beauty about him.

Yet, Rav moved with care in the little shop, as if mindful not to disturb anything.

Faye looked at his hands as he carefully picked up a tiny glass jar of incense.

The jar appeared like something from a doll’s house in his wide, strong palm.

He read the label with interest and put it down again, looking up to catch her eye and smiling slowly.

Faye felt her cheeks redden at being caught staring.

‘Ah, no…you surprised me, that’s all.’ She smiled.

‘You do know that this is a shop? Probably best if people do come in, I’m guessing?’ He came up to the counter and picked up a novelty spell book next to the till. Like the jar of incense, it looked like a toy in his hands. ‘How’s business?’

‘Not too bad.’ Faye wondered what it would be like to be held in those vast arms; a bear’s embrace. She let out a long breath at the thought of being so completely safe.

This is real life , she thought. Not myths and strangeness and old legends in dusty old books.

‘Thought I’d drop in on the village’s mysterious enchantress.

’ He raised an eyebrow, his black, long-lashed gaze holding hers.

Faye was drawn to him. ‘Who is even more beautiful than I remembered.’ He seemed totally at ease, paying her a compliment, flirting with her unashamedly.

He was very confident. Not in a flashy way, she could see that.

But confident in himself, of his masculinity.

‘Um. Thank you.’ Faye blushed. ‘Is there anything in particular you were looking for?’

‘Apart from you?’ He gave her that same, lazy smile that took her breath away.

Caught off guard, Faye was at a loss for words. ‘Umm…’ she stammered.

‘I imagine people must come in here all the time just to see you,’ he continued.

‘Well…yes…but only for spells, readings, that kind of thing,’ she blushed.

‘Indeed. How have you been?’ he asked, maintaining eye contact.

‘Fine. And you?’ she asked, wanting to look away, but somehow unable to.

‘I was hoping for some advice, actually,’ he went on. ‘The thing is – don’t think I’m deranged or anything – but I think…my house might be haunted.’

‘Haunted?’ she echoed his words.

‘I know, I know. It’s a mad thing to say.

But ever since I moved in, there’s been these weird noises in the night.

Running footsteps in the hall. Sounds of laughing.

And when I go downstairs, there’s been a few times when the fridge door’s been left open and stuff pulled out.

Food all over the floor.’ He looked chagrined.

‘I just thought…if anyone would understand, it would be you. Hence, the visit.’

‘It’s not mad.’ Faye frowned. ‘You know there have always been stories about that house. No one ever stayed there long, not since it was built.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. My grandmother always said that the fae were close by, here in Abercolme. She would blame anything on the fae. Someone’s dog was ill.

Getting a cold. Stupid things, really,’ Faye thought for a moment.

‘But I do remember her talking about that house, too. She said that it had a lot of fae activity, because it sits on a ley line. That was why no one stayed in it too long.’

Rav gazed into the hearth, frowning. ‘Hmm. Well, whatever it is, it’s scary, Faye. I mean, I’m embarrassed to say it, but I don’t want to sleep there right now.’

‘You don’t have to be embarrassed. These things happen all the time. Spirits that haven’t moved on – occasionally people with powers they don’t know they have, affecting their environments. The local minister would probably do you an exorcism.’

‘ Should I have an exorcism?’ Rav ran a hand through his long, dark hair.

‘You could. But I’d be happy to come and have a look for you first. See if we can’t give the place a good cleanse. That might be all it needs.’

‘A cleanse? You think so?’

‘I can come and see, anyway. Take it from there.’

‘That would be great.’ Rav looked relieved. ‘Honestly, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I moved in.’

She looked at the antique clock behind the counter; it was almost four.

‘You can show me now, if you want,’ she said.

‘Now?’

‘Sure, why not?’ Her heart was beating a little faster than usual at the prospect of being close to Rav, and going with him to his house, but she was going with her instinct.

And, she had a responsibility to help. She was the village witch, and, sometimes, people asked for help.

It was what the Morgans did. ‘Real witches are better than novelty spell books, and you have a real witch at your disposal.’

‘I do?’ It was his turn to look wrong-footed.

‘You do.’

Smiling shyly, she held the door open for him, keys in hand. ‘What’re you waiting for?’

‘Nothing! I had no idea that witches had this kind of immediate response time. I mean, I’m going to have to rethink my next 999 call.’ A smile played around his full-lipped mouth.

‘I don’t come out for less than a level-three haunting.

Just so you know,’ Faye joked back. There was a pleasant vibe between them; Rav’s aura, a dark red, was deeply masculine, grounded, calm, sexy like some kind of chivalrous knight intent on doing right by his lady, but still a huge man – a warrior – under his fearsome armour.

Faye had the overpowering sense that Rav could pick her up and put her over his shoulder whenever he wanted to.

And she would be able to do nothing about it.

It made her feel good. She liked Rav. He made her feel ladylike, feminine, and yet he seemed to respect her as a woman with her own power.

Rav’s hand brushed hers as they walked up the high street, and Faye fought an impulse to take it. Yet, as they walked along, she also felt a sense of apprehension. She didn’t know what was wrong with the house on the beach, but she could sense something dark there, waiting for her.