I rolled the name in my head. “Back to the classics. I like it.”
Aidan sighed heavily. “He’s dangerous. The Institute has kept their eyes on him for a year. He’s been increasing his collection of rare artifacts, and he doesn’t take well to people who try to fool him.”
“Like the guy on the floor?”
“Yes.”
When nothing else was forthcoming, I said, “And you don’t know who he is?”
“There are a few candidates.”
“Sounds like the Institute needs more employees.”
“No.”
I beamed at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t steal your spot. I’m sure there is space for both of us.”
That elicited a grunt. Then, as if the words were somehow forming without his consent, he added, “This morning, I learned that some kind of transaction was about to happen today.”
“Oh, so that’s why you were skulking around earlier.”
He gave me an offended look. It looked kinda cute in the way he lifted his chin and scrunched his brows. “I don’t skulk.”
“Why didn’t you follow the guy on the floor?”
“He must’ve arrived during the night to set the traps, well before the arranged time.”
“Then why did you come—oh, you saw me upstairs.” My smile turned mischievous. “You thought I was the seller, didn’t you?”
“No, I thought you might mess things up.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the satisfaction in his voice. “So what’s the plan now?”
“We find a way out of here, I get to work, and you go home.”
“Don’t you want the ball?”
“Don’t you want to outlast the morning?”
“Yikes, does your boss know you threaten innocent people like this?” I asked with mock outrage.
Aidan ignored me. “Once I can make a call to the Institute, you will turn in the Fae artifact and transfer the bind to one of my coworkers.”
And pigs would fly.
“Until then,” he warned, somehow assuming I’d actually agree to this plan, “make sure not to touch any animal or person in case the binding transfers.”
One of the names on the doors in the corridor caught my attention, and I grabbed Aidan’s sleeve, forcing him to stop along with me. “Hey, that belongs to Kane’s shop.”
“Who?”
“My friend.”
Aidan peered at the name. “Your friend owns the Wishing Well?”
“He works there. We should break in. Bet there’s something we can use.”
“You can’t just use random Fae things,” he told me in a tone meant for a five-year-old.
“There might be something inside that can break the binding,” I answered in exactly the same tone. “Some kind of tool.”
He perked right up. And by perked, I mean he straightened suddenly and scowled, deep in thought. “Hmm.”
I used Lisa’s card on the electronic lock, but the light remained red. Well, it had been worth a try. “Locked.”
His expression remained thoughtful when he took off again.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Your idea has merit. There might be something we can use around here to alter the binding.”
He began to try the doors without electronic locks. It only took him two tries to find an open room.
We found ourselves in an old office, the kind of room people were given when their bosses really wanted to make them quit. A lone DIY desk stood on a side, its edge flush with the wall, with a cheap chair as its only friend. Some cabinets were stacked in a corner, and an empty low shelf dominated the wall by the door. Someone had attempted to liven up the space by painting the walls a nice beige and leaving a poster featuring a flying cat over a rainbow. Damn cute.
Since I had no idea of what he was looking for, I left Aidan to the enviable task of opening and closing drawers and took a seat on the chair. Fishing the ball from under my t-shirt took some effort, but I finally got it free. It didn’t look the worse for the wear—still a metal-like sphere with beautiful swirling vine designs. And unlike the black tendrils emanating from the hound’s darkness, these gave the impression of life. I brought it close to my nose and sniffed delicately, expecting to get a hint of green grass or flowers. I got beautiful, old, moldy dust.
“So, why so interested in joining the Institute?” Aidan asked in a casual way as he opened another drawer.
“Ah, an interview?” I said all cheerfully. At his snort of disbelief, something in me decided to answer truthfully: “Ever since my mom told me I was part Fae, I’ve always been interested in artifacts. There’s so much wonder and trickery in them—I want to study them all. It’s so fascinating, all the ways Fae think of trapping others into spending magic. Plus, they’re so pretty. My mom says treasure hunting is right up my alley because I’m way too curious about Fae stuff to do anything else.” I frowned. “But the Jerk keeps refusing me, won’t even grant me an interview. Did you get an interview? Was he tough? What did you do before you began working there?”
Aidan said nothing, his face averted as he rummaged another drawer, and I returned my attention to the ball. Lowering it, I examined the patterns again. They originated from a small round spot before spreading in those beautiful twirls. Looking straight at it, it reminded me of an eye. A bloodshot eye in all the wrong colors. Also less gooey and disgusting.
Noticing Aidan had found some paper, I asked, “Can you do some ward to mask our location or something?”
“I can’t make wards.”
Interesting. That meant he came from a paternal bloodline, like I did. There were two types of human-Fae descendants, depending on who was the original Fae part of the equation. A Fae’s seed leading to human pregnancy created a part-Fae, able to access Fae magic, but unable to create it as a full Fae would. It was the result of growing inside a Fae’s womb that allowed the baby to fully attune with Fae magic. Part-Fae who came from a Fae pregnancy were basically sorcerers. They were able to create wards, spells, and artifacts of their own, and while not nearly as potent as a full-fledged Fae, the human part of them made their magic slightly different. A powerful sorcerer was feared by all. Luckily, there weren’t many around. Apparently, they got all hermit-y and didn’t have much luck with relationships or spawning descendants.
“I think we can fool the binding,” Aidan said, unaware of my internal detour via exposition lane.
“How? If you can’t make wards, then you can’t…you know.” Do anything else, I added in my head.
He placed the papers on top of one of the cabinets and bit off the cap of a marker he must’ve found lying around. The man had no chill. Who knew what had touched that thing? “Nothing to do with creating wards, but we might be able to trick the spell.”
I rolled the ball on the desk. It made a satisfying, normal rolling sound. “How?”
“By playing on the ambivalence of the binding terms. The spell works by binding two sentient beings above certain intelligence factor; otherwise the spell would’ve triggered between the man and the floor or some insect.”
“And?”
“Maybe we can turn the physical binding into a psychological one.”
I was starting to enjoy his lecturing mode. For once, it lacked scorn and grouchiness. “Such as?”
Aidan began writing something on the top paper. “Something as simple as a promise. Promises can be as binding as chains.”
“Wouldn’t it depend on the person’s morals?” I asked, doubtful. It sounded too good to be true. Too easy.
“Are you implying this won’t work because you’re the kind of person who breaks promises often?”
So much for the lack of scorn. “Sure, put words in my mouth. I bet you learned that from the Jerk.”
“Let’s leave the Jerk out of this.”
I made a face. “Okay. But wouldn’t you need strong Fae magic to trick strong Fae magic?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have strong Fae magic?”
“No.”
I batted my eyelashes, waiting for an explanation.
His mouth twisted up in what I believed to be a smile. “But I know someone who does.”
He tore a half of the page he had written on and scrunched it into a tiny ball. Crouching in the middle of the room, he produced a small folded knife and nicked his thumb. Ew. A thick bead of blood rolled down his skin and fell on the paper. He jumped to his feet immediately and took a step back, wiping the blade and refolding it.
Nothing happened.
“Is something supposed to happen?” I looked from the paper to him and held my breath in anticipation. This was so beyond good field experience.
“Yes.”
My gaze returned to the little paper ball with the gross drop of blood. It had been a tiny drop, but for some reason the paper had sucked it in as if Aidan had sliced his finger off. I watched the blood expand until the whole paper was tinted a crimson red.
A hand picked it up.
I gasped. The paper was lifted, and a forearm connected to the hand appeared in the middle of the air, followed by the rest of a body. A long-sleeved white shirt, a snug-fitting, old-fashioned green vest, wheat-colored cotton pants tucked into leather boots, and, most importantly, a beautiful face with high cheeks, a straight, triangular nose, golden eyes, and black hair gathered with a length of ribbon that stirred in a breeze that only affected him.
Fae.