Page 10

Chapter 10

Tully

I push into The Gold Coin and look around the pub for any signs of an annoying minotaur. He’s at a table in the back, pouring over his little notebook. His horns cast a shadow over his chosen work spot. How does he deal with having horns that large? How does he sleep? Then I’m imagining him in bed, lying on his stomach with his very muscular back bare and his horns resting above one of his bent arms. He has one arm slung over a horn in this imagined moment. His lovers could potentially hook a leg over those horns…

I take a deep breath and shove that stupid daydream to the pits of my mind where idiotic ideas go to die. I stalk over to his chair and poke him in the arm.

“Here you go.” Near his steaming cider, I set his stones down carefully so they don’t touch.

His gaze slides up my corseted waist, to my breasts, up my throat, and finally to my face. I tug at my neckline. It’s too hot in this pub. Cyrus needs to tamp down his hearth fire.

“How kind of you to return them,” Argos says. His tone has nothing to do with kindness.

“You can thank our mayor for asking me to return your khymeia stones.”

Recognition flares in his eyes.

“Ah ha!” I whip out my wand and jab his big, meaty arm. “You knew their name. What else are you hiding?” I lean in close and lock my gaze onto his brown eyes. They’re exactly the color of darkwood honey, the stuff I get each year at the witch’s gathering. “I don’t know what you’re lying about, but I can feel the stories you aren’t telling us. They push at my chest like a strong wind. I will get the truth and it won’t go easy for you, Minotaur.”

A sly grin ghosts over his lips, the cupid’s bow at the top becoming more pronounced. The sudden urge to nibble that spot has me leaning even closer. I shake my head and straighten to look down on him.

“Why Tully, you have been thinking of me quite a lot, haven’t you? Did some research on my magic, did you?”

His tone is teasing now and he turns toward me, easing back in his chair and hiking one boot up on the second chair at the table. His tail whips sinuously behind him. I lick my lips, feeling suddenly parched.

“What else would you like to study about me?” he asks in his annoyingly deep voice. “Or are you only interested in my stones?”

He spreads his legs wider, and though his trousers aren’t that tight today, there is no mistake about how well-endowed a male he is. I clear my throat and look for Cyrus, wishing he would come out of the back. I don’t like being alone with Argos. It makes me itchy.

“Where did you get the khymeia stones?” I demand, glaring at the minotaur.

“I only talk to friends and lovers about my personal life. You are a dangerous witch who loathes me, so I’m afraid you fit neither category at present.”

I nearly snap my wand with my tightened grip. “You stole them. From a witch.”

“That’s your theory?”

“It is.”

He frowns. “What data do you have to back that up?”

“Witches created them. Perhaps for clouded ones.”

“What are clouded ones?”

“Witches born of witches who can’t get their magic to work.”

“Perhaps I had a clouded one in my family line?”

“No. I sense zero witch blood in you. I would know. And don’t suggest your family received them later on. Witches wouldn’t give something like this out in this day and age. The khymeia are ancient. Powerful. Dangerous. Unfit for non-magical folk. They should never have been created.”

“I hate to disappoint you, Witch, but I didn’t steal the stones.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He shrugs and lifts his cider with annoyingly calm movements. “I suppose you can’t. For now.”

“For now?”

“Yes. Perhaps later on, you will come to trust me and we can be friends and I’ll tell you everything.”

“I will never be your friend.”

“My lover then? We’ll see.” He eyes my body, and his eyebrows lift in what looks like appreciation.

My heart pounds in my ears and in my core. Dammit. “You’re ridiculous.”

I turn on my heel and start toward the door. “I’m going to research the magic under the square. Rustion wants you there, so finish your cider and get your tail out here.”

I push the door open with more strength than the action required and storm away.

When I pass the town fountain and glimpse the area I’m aiming for, I realize something is wrong. A crowd has gathered around the mysterious hole in the ground and someone is talking rather loudly amid the ruckus. Rustion’s rope lies on the churned-up cobblestones and splatters of dirt mar the outside of the shops and homes that surround this side of the market square.

The speaker continues, and now it’s clear Betilda is the one regaling everyone with the tale of whatever happened here.

“I saw a shower of sparkles which were leftovers from a storm potion on that roof there, I think. They dropped into the hole, and then it exploded!” Betilda has a hand on her forehead and is batting her eyelashes.

Cyrus stands beside her. No wonder I didn’t see him in his pub. “Is that how the shrub gryphon ended up in the tree?”

“Aye, yes. I think his little wing is broken.”

“He was probably digging for worms,” the chandler’s daughter said quietly.

Her mournful eyes lift to the whimpering gryphon slumping over a high branch in the maple overhead. One of the small creature’s flame-hued wings hangs at a disturbing angle. Poor thing.

I eye the chandler’s daughter. “He will heal They’re remarkably resilient. I’ve seen ones far worse off come back even stronger in a twenty-four-hour period.”

The young female nods and gives me a tentative smile. I pat her head, unsure of what to do with the tears now dropping down her cheeks. Thankfully, her father and mother arrive and save me.

Laini’s Spark comes zipping from behind the row of shops. He flies into the maple and settles beside the gryphon. Laini isn’t far behind, her face scrunching as she approaches. She stands beside me and tries to look over two goblins’ shoulders to see Betilda.

“What’s going on?” she asks me.

“Not sure yet.”

Betilda catches my eye. “Here’s Tully! She’ll fix this up,” she says, waving me forward.

“Can everyone take a good ten steps away from this area?” I say, raising my voice so all can hear over the gusting wind. It smells like snow. I squint up at the tower. “Rom! Are we going to get a snowstorm?”

“Aye, but just a regular storm,” Rom says. “No magic involved. Might be a heavy fall for a while though.”

My fellow Leafshire inhabitants and I nod and wave a thanks for his warning. A tingling sensation flits down my back and I turn to see Argos. Hmm. I guess his khymeia are affecting his aura because usually I only sense magical folk in that particular way.

“Want these people farther back?” he asks, studying first my face and then the crowd.

“Please, yes.”

Laini and Argos lift their hands and urge everyone a few feet back from where I’d already backed them up.

I point my wand at the disturbed ground and will the dirt and stones away from the spot where the odd magic is strongest. Magic curls down my arm and focuses in my wand. The debris lifts into the air and settles around the area. I accidentally drop the equivalent of a shovelful onto Argos’s boots.

“Oopsie.” I give him a wicked grin.

His eyes narrow, and he shakes his feet to throw off the dirt.

I aim my wand again and urge more earth away, but there are only simple rocks, wet dirt, and the occasional larvae.

“Hmm.”

Pushing more power into my wand, I switch my aim. A prickling sensation dances over my back and along my arms. There’s a loud bang. A snap.

Night drops down like a sack over my head.