Fairyville Page 18

  He opened his mouth, and a note came out, not a song, just a note that opened his whole body—his throat, his heart, the channels of energy that ran down his legs—as if he'd rooted in the earth and drawn up its power. The tingle of it streaming through him was almost painful.

  A screech of outrage cut through the sparkle-clouded air, too harsh to have come from Zoe's fairies.

  This isn't over, warned the voice behind the falls. You won't get away with betraying your liege—again!

  Happily, the voice appeared to be mistaken. As the fairies' song continued, the smoke shrank to the size of a pea and then disappeared, which caused a concerted shout of triumph to burst out from Zoe's rescuers. The noise sounded like The Chipmunks winning the Superbowl.

  Alex was still reeling from all he'd seen when the fairy with the purple wings and the yellow crown left the celebration to fly up to him.

  She hovered no more than a foot away, twinkling like some acid-induced Disney hallucination, studying him with an intensity that left him tongue-tied. His face felt odd where his tears were drying, but he didn't bother to wipe them off, not when his measure was being taken by something that might be able to turn him into Mickey Mouse.

  "You sang with us," the fairy finally said in a musing tone. "That was considerate. You may have my name if you like."

  "I would be honored," he said a little breathlessly.

  Apparently, this was the correct response. She nodded regally. "I am Queen Rajel. You may call on me if you need help."

  "I think maybe Zoe does."

  Zoe was looking dazed. Queen Rajel flew up and down and around her body like a dragonfly physician—studying her aura, Alex supposed. Zoe didn't move except to rub her eyes.

  "She will recover," the queen pronounced once she was finished. "She didn't soak up enough of the doubt spell for it to last. If she hadn't had a weak spot, it wouldn't have affected her this much." She darted back to Alex's face and peered at him sternly. "You must tell her what the evil one said to you. Our Zoe needs to be warned."

  "I will," Alex said, "but who was—"

  He was talking to empty air. Every fairy in the glade had vanished simultaneously.

  Boy, Alex thought, unable to form a single thought more rational than that.

  Zoe tried to remember what had happened after she and Alex made love, but her mind was fuzzy, as if she'd been woken too abruptly from a troubling dream. She remembered seeing the bubbles, and Alex shaking her, and a terrible ache like an unsuspected wound opening in her chest. Hurt had issued from it dark as oil smoke to blot out the sky.

  She was a stupid, stupid woman. Couldn't even fall in love with a man who wouldn't break her heart.

  "Zoe." Alex squeezed her wrist. They sat in his Audi outside her gallery. Corky was cuddled against her breasts, his cold pink nose tickling her throat. His purr was a low vibration under her stroking fingers, much more comforting than her thoughts. Alex turned off the car's engine.

  She didn't remember him driving here. She'd been lost in that awful dream where the whole world seemed horrible. She rubbed one hand uncomfortably down her thigh, like she had something stuck to her energy that needed peeling off.

  "You should take a shower," Alex said. "Use that sea salt scrub you used to like."

  It was exactly what she'd have thought of if she'd been in her right mind. The crystals in the sea salt cleansed more than the body.

  "I will," she said, and began to open the door.

  "Wait," said Alex, stopping her. When she settled back in the leather seat, his expression turned sheepish. "Your, um, fairies told me to make sure you knew what I'd heard."

  The idea that her fairies had been speaking to him was almost as strange as the tale he told. Zoe felt her eyes getting wider, but at least her amazement was serving to clear her mind.

  "You're certain the name the voice called was Magnus?"

  "I'm certain, and there can't be that many Magnuses hereabouts. She also called him her son."

  Zoe pinched her lip. "I don't know if Magnus's mother is alive or dead."

  "You think this might be a ghost?"

  "I don't know. I didn't think a poltergeist could fill a room with rocks. Maybe I've been underestimating what the local spirits can do."

  "Please don't start calling yourself stupid again."

  He looked so worried she had to be amused. "I won't. Though I do wish I'd seen Queen Rajel and her troops attack. That must have been a sight with all their little swords."

  "It was." He rubbed his chin on the back of his hand. "I feel like I ought to be apologizing. I mean, I always believed you were talking to something when you talked to fairies. I just didn't know they were really… fairies,"

  Zoe smiled at his consternation. "I should go. Take that shower." She hesitated. "Will you and Bryan be okay at the inn?"

  Alex's face flushed a shade darker. "Bryan is looking for a new hotel. I told him I'd meet him at the Longhorn Grill after I saw you."

  "He's liable to guess what happened between us, you know."

  "I know."

  "He's also liable not to like it, in case you hadn't figured out how serious he is about you."

  Alex gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. "I know that, too." The skin across his knuckles whitened. "I'm sorry, Zoe. I always seem to get what ought to be simple tangled up."

  Zoe sighed quietly. If she'd doubted Alex was hung up on Bryan, too, she couldn't now.

  "It's all right," she said, reaching for the door handle. "It's not like I know what I want, either."

  By the time Zoe walked back to her own car, she realized there was one thing she knew she wanted: straight answers from her manager.

  Refusing to consider whether getting them was a good idea, she drove to Magnus's Earth-friendly earthship house. She'd only been here once before, for a wine and Cheetos party he'd thrown for his proteges. It had been their first Halloween together, about a month after he'd started managing her. Magnus had been a little high on salsa music and Mexican beer. He'd danced with her in the moonlight with the red rocks stretching out on the horizon and the other guests laughing inside. He'd called her a fairy princess and threatened to lock her in a magic pumpkin so he could keep her all to himself. His words had seemed more silliness than flirtation, but if Zoe could date her crush on him to any moment, that was the one. He'd made her feel special. Not strange. Not gifted. Just special.

  Of course, it had been some other woman he'd spent the next full moon with.

  She tried to wipe the memory from her face as she proceeded up his succulent-lined walk. She didn't need to be thinking about why she was an idiot when she faced him.

  His thick front door swung open at her knock. Surprised that he'd be letting his nice cool air out, Zoe called his name and walked into his long glassed hall. The combined living room and kitchen opened to her left, its ceiling slanting up fifteen feet to meet the tall windows. Magnus sat on a bright blue, modern couch in its shadowed rear, his torso canted over his sprawled knees. He looked up as she entered, but didn't speak.

  Strangely, Zoe found she couldn't speak, either. Magnus didn't look like himself. Oh, he was still handsome, still sexy enough to make her grind her teeth against the unfairness of the universe, but the crackling energy that made him him had obviously sunk to a depressed ebb. As she approached, she saw he was flipping a DVD case for The Simpsons over and over in his hands, as if the thought of putting the disc into the player and possibly laughing was too much for him.

  Even more telling, a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream was melting into soup on the coffee table next to his brass replica of Aladdin's lamp. Magnus was a junk food junkie, but the spoon didn't even look like he'd picked it up.

  When she was close enough to have touched him, he sagged back into the couch. His eyes were hollow, his five o'clock bristle way darker than Alex's. Zoe didn't think she'd ever seen him unshaven. Her insides squirmed with interest, which—after the rather remarkable boinkfest she'd had with Alex—ma
de her want to eat that ice cream herself.

  No one who'd refused to have actual sex with her should have the right to look that mouth-wateringly masculine.

  She supposed her expression wasn't the friendliest. Magnus stared at her for a long, tired moment before his chest lifted on a sigh. "I have nothing to say to you," he said. "I wish I did, but I don't."

  "Why don't you wait until I ask my questions first."

  "As you wish." He threw The Simpsons listlessly onto the cushion beside him, the opposite of an invitation to sit.

  "Fine," Zoe said, ignoring the twinge of hurt. "We don't have to pretend this is fun. I simply need to ask you about a weird experience Alex and I had at Fairy Falls."

  "A 'weird experience'? Is that what they're calling wild sex these days?"

  Zoe's breath caught in her throat, not only at the accuracy of his guess but at the bitterness of the anger flashing in his eyes. "Okay, I'm not going to ask how you know that, or why you think it's your business, but I need to know if your mother is alive or dead, and if she's dead, I need to know if she passed in some gruesome fashion, because if Alex and I met her spirit, it's seriously pissed."

  Magnus was on his feet before she'd finished, his hands pressed trembling to either side of her head. "Oh, God," he said. "Are you all right?"

  If she'd understood the reason for it, this level of concern might have been flattering.

  "I'm fine," she said, shaking him off. Talking about cursed bubbles seemed ridiculous, so she let that lie. "I'm just confused. Why would your dead mother want you to come home, and why is her shade lingering at the falls?"

  Magnus's normally high color seemed to have bled right out of his face. "She said she wanted me to come home?"

  "Actually, she said she wanted Alex to. We think… it doesn't make a lot of sense, but we think she must have mistaken him for you."

  "She's nearsighted when she's here," Magnus said in a dazed, faint tone.

  "Evidently, since you and Alex aren't exactly twins."

  Magnus winced and took her shoulders in his hands, speaking slowly and carefully. "Did my mother say anything to you, Zoe? Did she seem to know who you were?"

  Zoe folded her arms, less than pleased to be answering his questions. "She seemed to think I was your girlfriend."

  "Hellfire." The curse was typical Magnus, but she didn't smile—considering it wasn't the most ingratiating exclamation he could have made. She watched as he shoved his hands in his thick black hair and began pacing his living room. After about half a minute he spun on his heel.

  "You have to promise me you won't go back."

  "I can't speak for Alex, but it's safe to say Fairy Falls has dropped off my must-see list. I'm beginning to think I'm not cut out for facing everything Fairyville can throw at me."

  Magnus's clear green eyes narrowed. "This isn't a joke. It's important that you stay away from there."

  Zoe didn't bother to tell him her answer had been serious. "You want to tell me why?"

  His face twisted. "I can't."

  "You can't."

  "Would you rather I invent a lie?"

  Zoe stared at him, refusing to acknowledge the plea for mercy shining in his eyes. "No," she said slowly. "I guess you're right about that. I've had enough of being lied to."

  He said her name, but she turned away anyway, walking out the way she'd come without a backward glance. The heat that prickled between her shoulder blades didn't matter. Knowing that he was watching her didn't change a thing.

  Magnus didn't bother to scream again, though he wanted to. He also didn't throw the couch across the room or shatter a whiskey glass. Now wasn't the time for pointless operatics. Now was the time for action.

  Gritting his teeth, he dumped the melting ice cream into the sink and grabbed an apple from his fruit bowl. Magnus's fairy metabolism ensured he didn't have to worry about getting fat, but his brain was feeling in need of vitamins.

  As he saw it, he had two problems to attend to. One: Prevent his mother from maiding Zoe the target of her ire, and two: Keep himself from going stark, raving bonkers over losing the prize that was meant for him to his damn cousin. Of the two dilemmas, he suspected solving the second would have the biggest influence on his effectiveness.

  Concentration, and the magic he could work with it, was going to be key.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  The moment Bryan caught sight of Alex that night, he knew.

  Alex was walking toward him along the sidewalk, half a block from the steakhouse where they'd planned to meet. Bryan had good news about the hotel, and he was feeling happy to see him—a little horny, maybe, but mostly just happy.

  Then he noticed the difference in Alex's stride, a stride he hadn't realized he knew so well. The swing of his legs was looser, the easiness of his hips. His hair was mussed in a haphazard way, and his lips were fuller, redder, as if he'd been kissing someone long and hard.

  Bryan stopped in his tracks and had the dubious pleasure of watching Alex's steps falter. The air between them seemed to vibrate as they stared at each other. Even at this distance, Bryan saw the guilty rush of blood to his partner's cheeks.

  An idiot could have jumped to the right conclusion. Alex had finally fucked Zoe Clare.

  The knot in Bryan's throat didn't surprise him, but the slap of anger did. It was close enough to rage to suggest he really had been hoping Alex would get serious about him. The stupidity of that hope only made it worse. Too angry to have any desire to talk the situation through with him—or not talk it through, for that matter—Bryan turned around and walked the other way.

  "Bryan!" Alex called, but he was smart enough not to follow.

  Which figured, when Bryan thought about it. Guys like Alex didn't make wrong moves. Guys like Alex gave idiots like Bryan time to cool off. They waited until the people they'd stepped on in their selfish pursuit of pleasure were ready to crawl back.

  That Bryan probably would crawl back was too mortifying to contemplate.

  Muttering under his breath, he pushed into the first bar he saw, a dark, sticky-floored place that didn't look like it catered to the tourist crowd. He ordered what they had on tap and carried it to an empty booth. The crowd was mostly male, blue-collar workers with no one in particular to go home to. It would serve Alex right if Bryan picked someone up, but in a straight-arrow bar like this, he might end up on the wrong end of a baseball bat for thinking it.

  Alex never said he was only going to sleep with you, Bryan reminded himself. Ton knew who he was before you started this.

  He also knew he wouldn't have chosen any differently. After all those years of yearning after his friend, no way would Bryan have missed the chance to be with him.

  Which meant he kind of had to understand why Alex had grabbed his chance with Zoe.

  "Crap," he said into his half-drunk beer.

  A shadow fell over his booth—too tall to be a waitress and too substantial to be Alex. Bryan was too irritated with the world to bother looking up. Whoever it was could damn well write him off as rude and take a walk.

  "An Irishman like you might like this better," the shadow said, placing a bottle of Jameson's on the dark, knife-gouged wood. Two empty glasses followed, set down by a large and well-kept masculine hand. Dark hair shaded the strong forearm above it. Intrigued in spite of himself, Bryan decided it might be worth his while to lift his head.

  "I know you," he said, recognizing the man who'd driven Zoe to the Vista Inn—though he looked a lot harder-edged tonight.

  "And I know you," said the man, his dry suggestiveness telling Bryan he meant more than just his name.

  The instant heat that ignited in Bryan's body did nothing to legitimize the grievances he'd been brooding on. This man, this Magnus Monroe, was enough to give any mostly gay man a hard-on—and probably a few straight ones, too. He was big all over, and gorgeous to boot, with beautiful, dark-lashed green eyes that promised all sorts of dangerous adventures. This was a man who might do a
nything to his partners—tie them up, fuck them breathless, force them to have sex with exotic toys…

  Bryan squirmed on the booth's hard bench, his jeans abruptly tighter than they'd been before. He found himself unable to say a word. He was pretty sure he was reading Magnus's signals right, but if he wasn't… or even if he was, was he really ready to thumb his nose at Alex?

  "Well?" Magnus prompted, his small, knowing smile a wet dream all by itself. Those lips of his were born to do carnal things. "Should I pour you one, or am I drinking alone?"

  Bryan shook himself. Oh, yeah, he was reading the signals right. "That would be a shame, considering that's a ten-year-old single malt. I should tell you, though, I'm only half Irish. The rest of me is all Eye-talian."

  "Two fine races," Magnus observed. "Known around the world for the charm and lustiness of their men."

  Magnus poured for both of them. Bryan sipped, allowing himself a tiny gasp of appreciation for the fiery nectar. Then he faced his unexpected company.

  "Not that I'm complaining, but to what do I owe this honor?"

  Magnus smiled, and there was a sweetness to it no amount of ulterior motives could dim. Bryan's cock gave an embarrassingly forceful lurch. "I want something from you."

  That was enough to make Bryan cough. "Is it something I'll want to give you?" he rasped once his breath came back.

  "Oh, I expect so. Once I sweeten the pot."

  "And how are you going to do that?"

  "By giving you something you want from me." His eyes seemed to be glowing in the bar's murky atmosphere, two sexy green lasers that sent a fresh wave of fire lapping Bryan's groin.