Leo unzips the bag on his lap and places the figurine that Katarina had taken from my hoard on the table. The dragon in me would normally jump to reclaim the lost item, but our brewing young makes us both leery.
I mentally scoff. Goodwill.
“How kind of you. And what is the cost of this goodwill?” I ask.
They seem a little disappointed at my lack of reaction. A dragon’s obsession with their hoard is legendary because it’s very much based on reality. They couldn’t have anticipated that we hold to our young even tighter.
“It’s a small thing, really. You’d hardly notice it,” Lorenzo starts. “It’s not even currently in use.”
Their deaths would be so satisfying. I start tapping my fingers on the table in annoyance.
“Don’t waste my time, gentlemen,” I say when Lorenzo is distracted by my fingers. Probably more so the talon tips.
He swallows. The stab of satisfaction at the visible tell is vicious and gratifying.
“We’re looking at expanding into imports and exports,” Lorenzo says. “We would like for you to gift us the northern fae gate.”
I still again. “That is a rather serious request.”
Lorenzo nods. “And this is a rather important part of your hoard.”
It is. I collect items in a variety of ways. One of which is by gifts of friendship and oaths of alliance.
It’s an open secret that important relics are safe with me. Many groups of paranormals have found gifting me items is a way to keep their objects safe and cared for. This figurine is one such item.
“You’ll understand if I need some time to think through this offer,” I say and am in too foul of a mood to feel the urge to laugh at the look of shock on their faces.
I can’t let them have the fae gate. That opens up an ocean of trouble. Trafficking of rare paranormals is still a risk that we live with daily. The fae don’t change quickly. They’ve yet to discontinue their practice of indentured servitude, and there are rumors that some nobles in their courts ascribe to their old ways of consuming power through the flesh of certain types of creatures. There are reasons why so many magical folk fled the fae realm ages ago.
I make a note to call the witches that entrusted the figurine to me. I informed them when it was taken, but they didn’t worry about others using it for magic, and they trusted that eventually I’d find a way to include it in my collection again.
But they won’t be pleased if I don’t reclaim the figurine in a timely manner, and their coven is a partnership I value. One thing at a time.
“Thank you for your time, gentlemen,” I say, before leaving the shifters to their shock. The figurine is safe with them, they won’t want to lose the leverage they have, but they may try to make it weightier.
I have time to figure this out.
11
KATARINA
I WAKE from my nap to the growl of my stomach. It feels like just a moment ago that Kalos fed me, but I guess it’s time to start eating for two.
I check in with my body. The practice is a familiar one, even if I’m rusty. Being connected to my physical self was risk management when I worked with Nemo. I had to be aware of each sore muscle, stiff joint. Every movement needed to be accounted for.
I’ve gotten lax since quitting that life. Otherwise, I wouldn’t let my back and neck muscles stay tight from craning over my work. I stretch the muscles with a wince. The days of shivering haven’t done me any favors.
I’m not nearly as warm as I was when I woke in Kalos’s arms, but I’m not cold either. Instead of messaging Ben, I follow my nose to the kitchen. Ben seems nice, but I don’t want to annoy him with my needs.
I take a few wrong turns, but eventually I find the hearth of the house in the form of an ultra-modern kitchen. There’s a humidity and my mouth waters at the scent of cooking meat.
The woman takes me by surprise. She’s tall and wears a chef’s jacket. Her gray-streaked brown hair is pulled into a sleek bun. Her face is the sort that is described as ageless, but there are smile lines at the corner of her eyes.
“There you are!” she says. Her voice is rich with a touch of motherliness to it. “I was going to send Ben to go wake you.”
“Here I am,” I say awkwardly.
The woman who must be Maggie comes around the corner. “Let me get a good look at you.”
She takes both my hands, and I gasp at a tickling sensation, yanking away from her.
“Sorry!” She blushes. “Sometimes I forget to ask. It’s been so long since I’ve been called on to use my skills. May I check on you and the baby?”
“Check on?” I ask.
“Kalos didn’t say anything to you?”
“No.” The sensation of being ambushed makes me want to inch away.
The woman rolls her eyes. “Ah, well, he did seem in a bad mood when he got back. I’m Maggie, and I used to be a healer before coming to work here.”
Something starts to boil over in the kitchen, and Maggie whisks to it. I blink as I absorb her pointed ears.
“You’re fae!” I say, forgetting my manners. People don’t usually go around proclaiming what they are. “I’m so sorry!”
Maggie’s laugh is warm. “No problem. You probably haven’t met many of my kind. I am fae, though on this side of the gates that doesn’t mean as much.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, hoping that she’ll answer my questions.
Very few people are open about their origins in our world. Nemo barely spoke about it, and even then, it was pieced out as prizes given after completing a job I’d been leery of. I was willing to get into all sorts of trouble for one of those prizes.
I’d like to think I’m not so eager now… but I’m still the same person, if a little more wise and less shiny.
Maggie’s smile is warm. “When we’re separated from the fae realm, we stop being fueled by it. We age, though slowly, and we’re limited to what fae magic we can do. Those born in this realm are different.”
“But you can still heal?”
“My ability to heal came from a witch in my line, not on my fae side.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know that witches ever went to the fae realm. I know very little about what realms there are. What I do know is limited to anything I could pick up from conversation. Most smugglers and fences know about the fae gates, but my awareness ends there.
“Kalos asked if I wouldn’t mind being the healer to check on you and the baby’s development.” Maggie tilts her head. “Dragons normally don’t gestate like witches do, so I’m surprised he thought to ask me, but I’m happy to use my gift to keep an eye on things.”
“Thank you,” I breathe. “I have no idea on what’s going on in there, so having someone who knows what is normal would be a relief.”
“Of course, dearie.” She wipes her hands on a rag. “Now, let’s try this again.”
She holds her hands out, and I place mine in them. The tingle of power isn’t a surprise this time. Maggie closes her eyes for a moment in concentration before opening them again and squeezing my hands in comfort. “Everything looks good!”
What tension that didn’t ease after Kalos said the baby was healthy loosens now. “Really?”
“Yes, we’ll keep track of how they are growing, but everything that’s needed is there.”