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I stepped into the nautical-themed shop, Oisin trailing behind me. He had chosen gray slacks with a silvery sheen, a green cashmere sweater that was the exact color of his eyes, and a tailored wool coat. He looked completely out of place in the little tourist shop, and he knew it. Gods, this was probably him toning it down and slumming it because he was in hiding with the peasants. I pulled my bomber jacket down over my jeans and t-shirt and tried not to keep reminding myself he was nobility. Of course, I had suspected as much—anyone who spoke with the beautiful man for more than five seconds would realize he was a precious, coddled brat. But Jesus, Buddha and Odin.
The only powerful people I knew were my clan. And there was no way I was going to them for help. First off, they were strong and influential, but I was pretty sure this was out of their league. And secondly...fuck them. Fuck them right in their smug lying faces.
I might still be holding a tiny, little, itty-bitty grudge.
Oisin seemed to know what I was thinking. He nudged my shoulder as he brushed by me, rolling his eyes. "This is why I didn't tell you sooner. That sense of responsibility you have for everyone around you. Now you've gone all...mopey. Stop it. Not sexy at all, my beautiful beast."
I growled but did my best to focus.
Oisin milled about looking at knick-knacks and pirate-themed junk that had been set out for the rapidly approaching All Hallow's Eve holiday. He had already been in here with me the first time we met our new client, so I knew he wasn't really looking at the seashells and ceramic light houses and all the other crap that was imported from China and had absolutely nothing to do with Lake Superior. He was probably poking around looking for wards or other suspicious magic. I left him to it. I could change shapes and feel lies. That was about all the magic I could manage. I was much better at punching things.
I approached the counter, glancing around. No sign of the woman who had manned the shop before. I could sense another supernatural nearby though. I reached out and tapped the little silver bell on the counter. It dinged, making my ears ache, and the door at the back of shop opened. She came out of what must be an office, carrying a box that was overflowing with some sort of shell-bedecked rope net I suppose was meant to be used as a decoration.
Her almond eyes were a dark, deep blue. They went wide when she saw me at the counter. She dropped the box on a nearby table and rushed around to me, grabbing both my hands in hers and staring at me like I was her savior. I pulled my hands free of her clinging grip and stuffed them in my pockets. The woman was wearing her usual get-up of flowing shirt and gypsy skirt, and her long black hair was a loose cloud around her head. She clasped her hands to her chest, and she would have looked like a child who was about to be given a puppy—except the move pressed the filmy fabric of her blouse against the truly massive mounds of her breasts and I didn't quite know where to look.
She was only a few inches shorter than me—tall for a woman—so I was able to keep my eyes focused on her face. A hint of freckles dotted her perfect, doll-like complexion, almost purple against her olive skin. "Hi again," I said, like the socially awkward idiot I was. "We're back."
I gestured at Oisin, who was running his graceful fingers around the chipped paint of the door frame. He waved at us distractedly, then bent to inspect the latch on the door, his long nose twitching as it almost touched the door frame.
"Ignore him," I said with an eye roll. "He's a little odd, but generally harmless."
She glanced at Oisin and shook her head, setting her long black waves rippling around her shoulders and back. Gods, she was probably the only reason this place did any business. "Look, I know you wanted us to come back, but...could we maybe meet up somewhere? So we can talk when you aren't at work? I don't want you to get in trouble with that old guy who runs the place."
I wished we had waited for Con to get off work. But he said he didn't really know much sign language, and that her signing was strange, like she had learned it somewhere else—like a person speaking with an indecipherable accent, which shouldn't matter so much in signing, but he insisted the difference was there.
I pulled out one of the ridiculous business cards Oisin had made, the slick black surface proclaiming Lionheart Para Investigations on the front in gold lettering. "You could come to our office. It's fine if it has to be after you get out of work—we really don't have set hours."
She frowned, a deep crease appearing between her eyebrows and her blue eyes going stormy as she shook her head vehemently, refusing to take the dumb card. She gestured at the door where Oisin had been a moment before, then at herself. Then she shook her head again.
"Are you saying you can't leave the store, sweetheart?" The fae appeared at my elbow and I startled. He smirked at me for an instant. He did that on purpose, damn it. I swear to the Gods I was going to put a collar and bell on him one of these days. I had the senses of an eagle. I should be able to hear him move.
The woman looked at him and nodded, reaching out to pat his shoulder excitedly.
He glanced at me, then at the back door to the office. A couple with a kid drifted in through the entrance behind us and started looking around the store, the kid touching everything he possibly could with his sticky fingers, unfolding, moving, and generally fucking up everything he touched while his parents did nothing. The woman heaved a put-upon sigh. I waved her away. "Go on. We'll be here when you're done. Just...you know, refrain from killing the little monster."
She gave me a wry smile and shook her head, as if I'd ruined all her fun. But when she moved away to corral the kid, she had him laughing and behaving in moments.
"Amazing she can run this place without being able to talk to people," I said quietly.
Oisin pulled me over to another corner of the store, his voice a hushed whisper. "The locks on the door are magically reinforced." He turned me to look at a display of terrible hand-painted post cards, as if we were shopping. "Probably coded so once they are locked, only a certain person can open them. I haven't checked them as thoroughly, but the windows are probably the same."
"That nasty old dude?" I asked, recalling the surly boss who'd been here the first time we met the woman.
Oisin nodded, smiling at me and holding up a postcard with a crooked water color lighthouse on it. "Probably. He might have done it so he can lock her in at night."
I crossed my arms, becoming more pissed off by the moment. That old geezer was holding this sweet woman captive, and she couldn't even tell anyone. Which, yeah, that was probably why she was mute. "But wait—he's a human. How could he do all this?"
Oisin's expression darkened. "Mages will do anything for the right price. He probably hired it done."
And there I went, poking that old wound. Damn it. "Why doesn't she just run away during the day, while his back is turned and the door is unlocked?"
He shrugged. "That would be a question for our beautiful new friend," his eyes lit up as he said that and I followed his gaze to find our "new friend," on her way to join us. She must have heard him, because she gave him a wicked smile and performed a little curtsy, holding out the edges of her wide skirt.
Oisin put a hand to his chest and bowed, as if he was like five-hundred years old—which let’s be honest, he might be. I had no clue, and part of me really didn't want to know.
"Is he right?" I asked once she joined us. "Is that damned geezer keeping you locked up here?"
Her smile faded and she nodded, looking at the floor. I took her arm. A whole new rage swept over me, fresh on the heels of Oisin's flirting. "Wait. He doesn't...has that old fuck tried to...hurt you?" I tried to get my point across without getting descriptive.
She lifted her eyes and they were flinty blue daggers, despite her wry smile. She pinched her fingers together, leaving a small gap—a little bit. Then she held up her forefinger—one time. Grinning an evil grin, she balled up a delicate fist and made a vicious upper-cut in the air.
"Oh, I like her," Oisin said with his signature smirk. "She reminds me of someone else I know." His green eyes landed on me with fake innocence.
I rolled my eyes. So my attacker might never walk again, even though he was a supe. It wasn't that big a deal. Still. No one was going to try that shit on this poor woman. Not if I could help it. "Come on," I said, grabbing the woman's slender arm. "We're getting out of here. Now."
She stumbled a few steps after me, then dug in her heels, dragging us to a stop. I looked back as she shook her head and mouthed the word "no" repeatedly, using her other hand to try to pry my grip away from her arm.
"What? Why?" I said, releasing her. "Why the hell are you staying here. Come with us. If you don't have a place to stay, we've got rooms enough until you get sorted out. But you can't stay here and let that asshole abuse you!"
She gave me a sad look and took a step back, away from us, rubbing the place where I'd gripped her arm.
I ran a hand through my unruly blond waves. "Look, I'm sorry I grabbed you like that. I didn't mean to scare you." Fuck. I was so bad at people and... emotions and shit. "I just don't like the idea that you're trapped here!"
She paced closer and put a hand on my arm, patting me as if to say I was forgiven. She tapped her throat, then her chest, right above the swell of those gorgeous breasts. Her eyes were pleading. She wanted me to understand. And I had no fucking clue what she needed.
I turned to Oisin and shot him a pleading look. He shook his head, brow furrowed. "I don't know," he said sadly. "She doesn't seem the type to put up with abuse out of some twisted psychological need, though. There must be a reason."
A soft hand cupped my cheek and I turned back to the woman. She patted my face, her eyes earnest. "Don't worry," I said, trapping her hand with my own. "I will figure this out. We won't just leave you here."
She took a deep breath and nodded. Then she pulled her hand from mine and hugged me. In a flash, I found myself engulfed in pillowy curves and long, slender limbs. She clung to me like an octopus. How many damned arms did she have? I tried to untangle myself gracefully from this outpouring of emotion, hoping she wouldn't notice how red my face must be right now.
But I felt like I had lost something when she finally let go.
When I turned to leave, Oisin was smirking. "Oh, shut the fuck up," I said, shoving him out the door.
I wasn't about to start flirting with the woman when she was vulnerable and being held captive, much to Oisin and Con's disappointment. Gods.
But it had felt nice, all that softness.
Oisin and I made our way back toward home. "How the fuck are we supposed to get her to leave that place if she won't come?"
Oisin laughed and started to open his mouth. I shoved him, making the graceful fiend stumble. "If you make an orgasm joke right now, I will shave your head when you are sleeping."
He started whistling a jaunty tune instead.
"Asshole."
A moment later, he opened his mouth to actually add something helpful. "He probably has something he's holding over her to keep her there, keep her from running," he said, the words so ugly in that beautiful voice. "That's how you ensure compliance when the person you are using is stronger than you."
I reached for him, but he danced away. "Will you stop with the moping?" he demanded, jumping ahead to walk up the sloping sidewalk to the bookstore. "I'm fine. You're fine. She's fine. We are all fine. I am stating a simple fact. We need to figure out how he's keeping her there during the day."
I sighed. "That would be simple, if she could just fucking talk to us." I threw my hands up. "I'm not a mind reader."
I ran into Oisin's back when he stopped too suddenly in front of me. Peering over his head, I gaped like an idiot.
"Need a mind reader, huh?" A deep, sexy voice said, the tone laced with humor. "Wherever could you find a person who could help with that?"
The psychic sat on the steps to the bookshop, lounging there as if he hadn't a care in the world, a couple of overstuffed duffel bags at his feet. "You know," he said, leaning back against the door. "Bookshops usually sell more books when they aren't closed in the middle of the day."
Oisin stopped his statue routine and paced forward, nudging the guy's leg with an immaculate black dress shoe. "Move, little kit." He put a hand on the door to let the wards know we were friendly, then slipped a purely mundane key into the lock.
The taller guy stood. He loomed over Oisin, and I let out a snort. Gods, that must be what the fae and I looked like next to each other, because I was about the same height as the lanky guy. Oisin was such a midget. I started to laugh. Then I remembered what the fae had been through with his family and I felt bad for poking fun, even in my head.
Gods. What was wrong with me? I missed the simpler times, when it was just me, bumbling through life on my own, not having to...people.
I shoved between them when Oisin opened the door, making my way into the dusty shop. "Well, here you go," I said with a fake smile. "Here's the shop you wanted into so badly. Please, enjoy your shopping experience."
The psychic looked even younger today than he had at the carnival. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans, and the long part of his almost-white hair was pulled up into a manbun, he scooped up his bags and glanced around the shop. "Gods," he muttered, "what a dump."
Oisin snorted. I shrugged. He wasn't wrong.
"But," he hurried to add, his face serious as he poked around. "You know, the space isn't bad. I could set up my tarot readings over in that corner to bring in more revenue for the bookstore. He pointed to an alcove with a bay window. "And we could put all the paranormal books and stuff on those shelves. Put in some Persian rugs. Use that old table."
"Did you need something, little foxy?" Oisin said, slipping off his jacket and hanging it by the door.
The psychic weirdo stopped his yammering and paced closer to Oisin. "Look, I'm sorry if I offended your faeness somehow," he said, reaching out a hand toward Oisin's shoulder, his face confused, but serious. I knew the feeling. It was hard, at first, to tell whether Oisin really hated your guts or just wanted to have really aggressive sex. Fae.
Oisin side-stepped the guy's hand and gave him an emerald dagger glare. "Do not touch me. No matter how tempting that might be, child."
The taller guy frowned, then looked at me in question. I shrugged, though I knew exactly what Oisin's problem was.
He didn't want the guy to look inside his head.
I smiled.
The ancient bells above the door jangled and Con came in, carrying his briefcase and wearing his nerdy professor get-up. He must have finished up his student meetings early. Gods he was so adorable. And normal. Unlike everyone else around here. "Hey guys," he said, taking in our visitor with a raised eyebrow. Then he glanced at me. "Why is Gesa smiling like that...it's kind of creepy. Did you break her?"
I slouched against the front counter of our run-down business establishment. "Because we know how to figure out what the mute woman needs."
Oisin came to me and pulled me down into a biting kiss. "Have fun with the children," he said as he pulled away. "I'm going upstairs to tend the plants."
I stared after him as he ran away. What the actual fuck?
"Did you break him too?" Con demanded, hands on his hips. "What the hell have you been up to today, Gesa? I miss all the fun."
I heaved a sigh. "Make us some coffee and meet me in the office and I'll fill you in." I gestured toward the tall blond guy who was wandering around the store picking up dusty books and putting them down again. It didn't escape my attention that he was putting some of them aside into a new pile as if he was organizing his inventory. "Come on, Mr. Mind Reader. I'll show you the office."