Page 1 of Magic Forsaken
ONE
“You’re lying.”
The man sitting across from me uttered the words in a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the table, making me wonder whether my source had been entirely mistaken.
Faris Lansgrave was supposedly an earth elemental—capable of manipulating dirt and stone with little more than a thought. Basically, an earthquake in human form. But between his voice, his mountain-sized bulk, and his full brown beard, I would have pegged him in a moment for a bear shifter. Grizzly, most likely. And from the way he was glaring at me, I was half convinced he was about to change shape, charge over the table, and tear me apart for daring to bend the truth in his presence.
Was he hungry? I hoped he wasn’t hungry.
I met my prospective employer’s gaze as coolly as I dared, and reminded myself that shapeshifters always had amber eyes, while this giant was glaring at me out of green ones. He wasn’t a shifter, and therefore couldn’t actually identify me or my magic by smell.
So how did he know I was lying?
“I don’t know what makes you think so,” I countered, keeping my tone level and my hands folded calmly in my lap. No panichere. I was exactly who I claimed to be—a homeless, itinerant half-fae looking for somewhere to belong. After all, the courts weren’t always kind to those with human ancestry. “It’s true that I’m not telling you everything, but we only met five minutes ago and everyone has secrets.”
For example, I wasn’t ready to announce that I’d driven six hundred miles in a stolen car to get here, sleeping at rest stops and eating out of vending machines to avoid leaving any trail. Employers tended to frown on that sort of thing.
Nor was I going to tell him that this place was my last hope. If I couldn’t somehow convince the scowling, suspicious owner of The Portal to give me a chance—and a job—I was out of options.
Out of money, out of ideas, out of everything except bone-deep cussed human stubbornness. I was also running out of places to hide my desperate little group of refugees.
Faris Lansgrave was the one person who might be able to protect us from what was coming, so I was willing to do whatever was necessary to convince him I was worth taking a chance on. Persuade, wheedle, grovel, probably even bend the truth… more than I already had.
“The important thing is, I’m willing to do anything,” I told him, continuing to meet his gaze squarely, as if I had nothing to hide. I didn’t know much about what was required to keep a nightclub running, but surely there would be the usual selection of menial tasks—like mopping puke off the bathroom floors or washing endless numbers of shot glasses. “I’m available to work any and all hours, and I don’t need days off.”
Unfortunately, this only seemed to make him more suspicious.
“Why?”
It was a fair question, but also the one I could least afford to answer. “Why what?” I kept my expression innocent and slightly confused, while internally sorting through thebizarre and frequently unbelievable narrative that made up my life, wondering what was safe to tell him. Wondering which unpleasant detail might distract him enough that he would leave the rest of my past alone.
Unfortunately, my search came up empty. The things that were safe to share, he wouldn’t believe, and the parts hewouldbelieve… Yeah, I didn’t trust him that far. This particular earth elemental was not just a club owner. Not just a jaw-droppingly powerful and influential member of Oklahoma City’s Idrian population.
My source claimed Faris Lansgrave was one of the original survivors of the fall of Idria. He appeared to be in his late forties, but he’d actually come through the gateways from Idria to Earth over fifty years ago to rebuild a life here among the startled and suspicious human residents. He hadn’t survived this long by being gullible or naive. Besides being ridiculously huge, he was also several hundred years old and possibly the most powerful earth elemental in North America.
Plus, there was the real reason I was here—the rumors that suggested he’d built this place as a haven. The only potential haven for people like me.
“Why should I bother with you?” Faris asked, forcing me to suppress a wince at his bluntness. “You appear to be human, but you clearly have power of some kind, or you wouldn’t be here. You have no valid ID, and you can’t give me any references. You have no connections to anyone—at least none you’re willing to claim—and you’re giving off evasion and desperation so strongly, they can probably sense it all the way to Kansas. Everything about you suggests I’m going to regret agreeing to this meeting. So how about you stop with the innocent act and give me one—just one—solid reason not to throw you out of my bar.”
Yup, he’d pegged me within moments. A guy like Faris could probably see a con artist coming from miles away, which meant my chances of success were dwindling by the moment. Just as they had everywhere else.
I was down to my last card, so I played it with everything I had.
“You want the truth?” I tilted my head and met his gaze without flinching. “What if the truth is something you don’t actually want to hear? What if it’s something you won’t want to believe?” Those were really just rhetorical questions. I knew better than to share the gritty details of my past with anyone. “Sometimes, even if we tell the truth, it sounds more like a lie. And whether you choose to believe me or not, everything I’m hiding is for the sake of someone else’s safety. I might need a job, but that doesn’t mean I know how far I can trust you with the people I care about.”
If anything, that brown beard bristled even harder. “You’re going to have to do better than that.” The words were uttered in a deep, threatening tone, but they weren’t a direct dismissal, so I clung to hope. “Because that blade cuts both ways. This place is neutral ground. My customers rely on discretion, so I need to know that my employees won’t stab me in the back. And frankly? You look like the stabbing kind.”
Well, that was just rude. I’d only stabbed that one person that one time. And he’d definitely been asking for it.
“It’s the fae thing, isn’t it?” I made the question a reproachful one. I’d heard Faris wasn’t a big fan, but fae blood was the easiest explanation for a twenty-six-year-old with pure white hair. I definitely didn’t look like a full-blooded fae, with their gray skin and hair, but I’d passed for half easily enough over the past six months.
“No,” he informed me dryly. “No matter what you may have heard, I don’t actually have a vendetta against every fae on theplanet. I have my enemies and my reasons, but in your case, it’s the fact that you walked all the way around the table so you could sit facing the exit. Your clothes are baggy enough to conceal any number of weapons, you checked under the other tables to make sure there was no one there, and you keep your hands hidden so I can’t see what they’re doing. You might think you look harmless, but frankly, you’re an amateur, and I’m not buying it.”
Oops. I had good reasons for all my paranoid habits, but I hadn’t actually expected him to notice, let alone interpret them as a security risk. Clearly my source had been telling the truth—there was more to Faris than grumpy magical nightclub owner or walking earthquake. He was both dangerous and perceptive, and I was trapped in this tiny room with him, alone. If he decided I was a threat, my body would likely disappear as thoroughly as the records of my ordinary human existence.
There was just one more thing to try, and since I truly had nothing more to lose…
“Okay,” I agreed, letting out a sigh and lifting my hands from my lap to place them deliberately on the table. “How’s this? I escaped from a fae prison about six months ago, and I’ve been in hiding ever since. Last week, I drove across three states in a stolen SUV with Fae diplomatic plates, but the gas and the money ran out, and I have nowhere else to go. I have no documents, no proof of my identity. My own people are dead, I can’t go to the Courts, and I need to eat. A friend told me that there was a place here for those who don’t fit in anywhere else, and that I should come to you if I was truly desperate. So here I am, wondering if he made a mistake or whether things have changed since the last time I saw him.”