Page 2 of Magic Forsaken
Faris stared at me across the table, as if truly seeing me for the first time. His expression promised murder if he didn’t like my next answer.
“Which friend?”
Huh. Somehow, he was more bothered by the idea that someone knew about his clandestine activities than the “escaped prisoner who committed car theft” part of my story.
I was pretty sure that “friend” had given me a fake name, but for some reason, it seemed important to prove that I couldn’t be bulldozed that easily.
“He didn’t give me permission to share that information,” I said firmly.
“Even if I promised you a job in exchange for his name?”
Hah. I wasn’t falling for that one. “Especially not then,” I retorted. I might not know where Shane Isaacson was, but I owed him enough that I wasn’t going to endanger his life if I could help it. The half-goblin bounty hunter had once shared my prison. He’d helped keep me sane for those first few months, then found me many years later, shortly after I’d finally broken out. I suspected he might even have had a hand in our escape, but he wasn’t the type to invite personal questions. Instead, he’d given me direction. Hope. Told me everything he could about Idria and its people so I would have half a chance of surviving.
I’d known a little, of course, even before my regrettable acquaintance with the fae, but only what every kid was taught in school. We knew that the world of Idria had been connected to Earth for millennia by elusive magical gateways, but that it had mysteriously collapsed about fifty years ago, leaving its survivors as refugees among the humans of Earth.
Shapeshifters, wildkin, elementals, and fae… They’d settled down in their new home and carved out lives for themselves, for the most part peacefully, disguising themselves with glamour and generally clinging to enclaves of their own kind, ruled by Courts with their own sovereigns and nobility.
Or so the textbooks said.
The textbooks lied. The truth was, they weren’t always peaceful, and they didn’t always keep to themselves—my life was proof of that.
Faris was still eying me with evident annoyance. “If you’re aware of my disagreements with the fae, why did you lie about being one?”
So hedidknow that part was a lie. I had no idea how, but every moment he hesitated to throw me out was an opportunity—to learn what he was looking for and adapt. And since he seemed oddly more comfortable with my defiance than my evasion, I decided to answer honestly.
“It’s what I look like,” I replied with a shrug. “And it’s what everyone seems to assume if I don’t say otherwise. If no one will believe the truth, why not give them a lie that they’ll find easier to swallow?”
If I was truly half fae, I probably could have used glamour to hide my bizarre appearance. But glamour wasn’t one of my “gifts,” so there was no magical way to hide that I’m other—not exactly human, but impossible to categorize. I’d had to resort to other, more human methods.
My oversized clothing wasn’t intended to conceal weapons, but to make me look smaller than I actually am. Less noticeable and less of a threat, though my height and build are just about average. If you don’t look like you can afford clothes that fit, most people tend to ignore you.
Typically, I also wore long sleeves and a hat to cover my skin and hair. After years locked away from the sun, my naturally tanned skin had a grayish cast that made me look sick, and after six months of lean rations, my features were slightly gaunt. The hair I’d tried to dye, but it refused to take color, so I was stuck with it. Just like I was stuck with the eyes. They used to be plain brown, but now if you catch them in the wrong light, they glow a little—the magic lurking there refusing to be contained.
So if Faris had noticed any or all of these anomalies, he would have demanded an explanation, and fae seemed easiest to swallow.
“What are your skills?”
The question startled me for a moment, because it almost sounded like the owner of The Portal wasn’t going to kick me back out into the street like a stray puppy.
I pasted on a confident look that was as much a lie as my fae blood, though I knew my answer to this question wasn’t likely to do me any favors.
“What skills are you looking for?” I met those fierce green eyes steadily. “I’ve never worked in a bar or a nightclub before, but I’m strong for my size, and a quick study. If you need crowd control, I’ve had a bit of training in hand-to-hand combat, and if you’re looking for someone to do overtime, I don’t quit when the days get long.”
And just in case the rumors of his clandestine activities were true… “I’m also a fast runner, a good climber, and I’m not afraid of heights or enclosed spaces. If you need a liaison, I’m excellent at understanding and blending in with humans. I have a trained memory, and”—I paused deliberately to emphasize my next words—“I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
I left off a few. Like lock picking, but no prospective employer wants to hear about that. Probably not even one like Faris, whose mysterious underground organization probably meant he was involved in at least a few illegal activities. Maybe I could save that revelation for after he trusted me a little more.
“Like I said, I don’t know anything about serving food or drink,” I continued, “but I’m a fast learner, and I’m willing to take whatever job you’ll give me. Cleaning toilets, sweeping floors, washing dishes, you name it. You might say my best skill at the moment is… desperation.”
It was no less than the truth. Four futures might depend on whether Faris was willing to give me a chance.
The earth elemental unfolded his arms. One hand rested on the table, while the other stroked his beard, as if in thought.
“A skill list like that, and you can’t go to the courts?” Those green eyes seemed to stare right through me. “Who are you trying to avoid?”
“Everyone.” Even if he could smell lies, as some Idrians claimed they could do, he would detect no deceit in my answer.
Faris pushed abruptly away from the table and stood to his full, imposing height. “Follow me,” he said.