Faerie Godmother: Mythic Series, Book 1 (5 page)

Whatever the reason, for the first time in her life, Ana found herself voluntarily sharing her story. As she did, she kept thinking how hard it was going to be to have to leave Mythic. She liked it here. But once people knew about her, about what she could do, she would probably have no other choice but to leave. It was a bittersweet moment, but once she started, she could no more stop the flow of words than she could turn back time.

Matt listened carefully, filling his coffee mug and hers several times over the course of her explanation. When Ana finally fell silent, she looked up into his face, not knowing what she would find.

His expression was thoughtful, almost bemused. “So...basically, what you’re telling me is...you can grant wishes?”

She inhaled, exhaled, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Anything?”

She shrugged. “I won’t knowingly harm someone. I try to consider all possible ramifications before I grant a wish. But other than that, yeah, I think so.”

“If I wanted a thick, juicy hamburger right now, you could make that happen?”

She nodded.

“Would you?”

Ana sighed. She knew it would come to this — a request of proof — but she couldn’t blame him. The whole thing sounded like something out of a children’s book. At least he didn’t ask her for something ridiculous.

She reached across the counter and lightly took his hand; physical contact was helpful in making the wish happen. She blinked slowly, holding his gaze with her pale green eyes. “You want fries with that?”

Matt felt the gentlest of tugs deep inside him, almost a tickle. Then, a thick, juicy burger appeared before him, complete with thick-cut seasoned fries and a pickle spear.

Matt looked down at the plate in awe. “Jesus. Where did this come from?”

“My fridge,” she sighed. “I don’t have the power to create something from nothing, but I can kind of...rearrange things. Move them. Manipulate them. Or, in this case, cook them.”

“Jesus,” he repeated. Ana grabbed a French fry from his plate and munched on it, waiting for him to fully grasp the implications, and wondering what he would do with that knowledge when he did. Would he tell the others? Would it change the way he looked at her? Would he start asking her to do things for him? For his pack?

She felt the first twinge of sadness, knowing with this knowledge came the beginning of the end of her brief, but truly happy time here.

“Are you some kind of djinn or something? A goddess? A Faerie?”

“I don’t know what I am,” she admitted.

“But your parents, they must have told you something. Did they have powers like this?”

“I don’t know that, either. I never met them.” Years and years of being alone, not really knowing anything about where she came from. But she didn’t tell him that. He was already looking at her in that overly protective way he had. She didn’t need to give him even more of a reason to feel like some kind of charity case.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No. Just you.”

He blinked slowly, obviously realizing she had just shared with him something she had not shared with anyone else. “No one?”

She shook her head. “You’re the first,” she said with a small smile. “I don’t advertise it. If people knew...” She let the sentence hang.

“They’d never leave you alone,” Matt finished, wrapping his big hand around hers. “I don’t know what to say. I’m honored you would place that kind of trust and faith in me.”

Ana remained quiet. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but if felt so good to finally share it with someone, even if it could only be for a little while.

The hand-crafted wooden clock ticked with each passing second, sounding louder than it should have in the silence of the small kitchen. Outside, the gentle early morning breeze carried the sound of approaching voices, probably her first patients of the day. Ana took a chance and lifted her gaze to Matt’s. What she saw there was unexpected. Determination. Respect. Humility.

“Your secret is safe with me, Ana. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Consider yourself under the protection of the pack.”

He didn’t offer the words lightly. Over the past year, she had learned just how tight Were packs were. Even she knew they accepted no outsiders. She had been lucky enough to befriend them because of what she had done for Dani.

“I’m not a Were.”

He shrugged, as if the concern was irrelevant. “You could be.” He pinned his golden eyes on hers, a silent offer. As Alpha of the pack, she knew, he could turn her, make her one of them.

Ana opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. “Just think about it, okay?” he said, squeezing her hand. “Until then, consider yourself an honorary member.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, feeling both relieved and scared to death at the same time.

“Mind if I take this with me?” he said, pointing at the burger with a hungry smile. “It smells awesome. Not quite as good as you do, but...”

The teasing twinkle was back in his eye, and Ana couldn’t help but smile. “Knock yourself out. I don’t even eat meat. I just keep it around for you guys.”

Matt’s grin grew. “No wonder the adolescents love it here. You spoil them, Ana.”

A genuine smile lit her features, reaching her eyes. “They’re good kids. And very helpful.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that. They’ll never leave.”

Ana laughed, releasing some of the tension. Now she just felt drained. Matt bent down and gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek at the sound of the outer door opening. “We’ll talk more about this later, but be careful, Ana.”

“I’m always careful.” But sometimes things happened anyway.

He cast her a doubtful look and slipped something into her hand.

“What’s this?” she asked, looking at the thin metallic cylinder on a silver chain.

“A special whistle, pitched at the right frequency for Weres. Keep it with you at all times. You blow that at the first sign of trouble and you’ll have the pack at your doorstep in a heartbeat, hear me?”

“Thanks, Matt,” she said, looping the whistle over her head and tucking it into her scrub top. She hoped she’d never have to use it, but it did provide a much-needed sense of security.

They emerged together into the waiting room, where Mrs. Peterson was clutching a miserable looking toy poodle dressed in a pink satin jacket. She eyed both of them and smiled broadly.

“Good morning, Dr. Ana, Mr. Gullwolff.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.” Matt offered a boyish smile and tipped his head, earning a glowing smile from the older woman.

“I’ll send one of the boys over later to move the rest of those boxes for you, Ana.”

Both Ana and Mrs. Peterson watched Matt’s retreating figure.

“Oh, Dr. Ana!” the older woman twittered. “I think he likes you!”

“He’s a good friend, Mrs. Peterson,” Ana clarified in an attempt to nip that rumor right in the bud.

“Of course, dear,” she said, still grinning from ear to ear. “Whatever you say...”

E
very year, the Mythic Masquerade Ball was held at the Mythic Community Center on the eve of the summer solstice. It was one of the few days celebrated by the vast majority of Extraordinaries for very different reasons, and open to the entire town, humans included.

But the after party at Vlane Masterson’s palatial estate, which most considered to be the real event, was by invitation only. Who might receive the much sought-after, hand-delivered expensive vellum was a constant source of speculation. No one knew the criteria used to create the list, only that wealth, notoriety, and social status had little to do with it. An invitation one year certainly did not guarantee one the next.

There were, however, a respectable amount of “regulars” (mostly immortals) who came to enjoy Vlane’s exceptional and generous offerings. Since Vlane was quite sure he had never come across whomever, or
whatever,
had disrupted his rigidly static existence so spectacularly, he didn’t bother with them. That cut down the list considerably, leaving only a sparse dozen or so female newcomers.

By the end of that first week, they had managed to eliminate all but three.

“What of the others?” Vlane asked, feeling an immense sense of relief when the vapid blonde was finally ushered over the threshold (rather reluctantly on her part). It had only taken a moment for him to realize she had been invited as a boon to Kristoff, who had heard the woman was especially skilled in various forms of unusual erotic play, a fact Kristoff later confirmed with a smug smile and a gleam in his eye.

Armand examined the list, though they had long since committed it to memory. They had thought of little else. Living as long as they had and finding something so truly puzzling, quite possibly the only real threat they had faced in centuries, presented an irresistible challenge.

“Marilyn Connors is currently in the hospital, the result of a car accident several days ago. She is in a semi-private room, but her roommate was discharged earlier today, so we should have no difficulty slipping in tonight to speak with her.”

Vlane nodded. “Very well.”

“Trudy Anderson seems to have vanished,” Kristoff said with a frown. “She was last seen with some of Karthik’s demons at
Seven Circles
.”
Seven Circles
was a BDSM nightclub on the outskirts of Mythic, a popular place for those who had hardcore hungers. “Word is, she seeks to become permanent staff.”

Translation: she was willing to sell her soul to the demon lord for the chance of eternal youth. Vlane wondered if she knew Karthik required a minimum of one hundred years indentured service as part of his price for immortality. Vlane sincerely hoped the woman he sought was not Trudy Anderson. Much, if not all, of the potent life energy he’d sensed would be drained from her well before her time was up.

“Karthik is the possessive sort,” Vlane mused aloud. “He’s not likely to respond if he believes we have more than a passing interest in the girl. Talk to him directly. Assure him that I wish to speak with the woman while she still maintains some of her faculties. I will need no more than a few seconds to know if she is the one we seek.”

“And if she is?”

“Then things will become complicated. Let us hope that is not the case.”

Kristoff nodded his acknowledgement.

“And the third? What do we know of her?”

“Ana McKinnon. She is a vet,” Armand answered.

“Excuse me?”

“A veterinarian,” Armand clarified. “An animal doctor.”

“I know what a veterinarian is,” Vlane snapped impatiently. The entire situation had him on edge. “Why have we not spoken with her yet?”

Armand and Kristoff exchanged an uncomfortable glance. “She is under the protection of Matthew’s pack.”

“Is she a Werewolf?”

“Not as far as we know.”

Vlane considered this. He sat back in his chair and tented his fingers in front of his face. “It is unlike Matthew to extend his reach beyond his own kind.”

Despite the potential danger this strange creature presented, Vlane’s interest was piqued. Not only had she managed to temporarily strip him of his vampiric strengths and render him vulnerable, but she had also ensconced herself among a tight-knit community not known for their acceptance of outsiders.

What exactly was her relationship with Matthew and his pack? And more importantly, was the Mythic Alpha privy to her unusual ability? The relatively recent peace accord between the wolves and the vampires was friable at best. If either side had knowledge of how to incapacitate the other, it would upset the delicate balance and throw them back into the open hostilities which had plagued both sides for centuries.

“True. But he credits the woman with saving the life of his youngest sister, Danielle, last autumn,” Kristoff supplied. “It was ugly. Some human hunters shot the whelp, but she managed to escape before they could get to her. Most unfortunately for her, she stumbled onto the highway and was hit by a car. Ana McKinnon happened to be driving by, saw the poor creature, and rendered aid. By the time Matthew’s brutes located her, the good doctor already had things well in hand.”

“What kind of woman picks up a badly injured wolf from the roadside?” Vlane mused softly.

“One with no sense of self-preservation,” quipped Armand.

“Indeed,” Vlane murmured. The very thought intrigued him. Might that same lack of self-preservation be why the woman found herself in a nest of vampires and Extraordinaries? Or was her purpose here a much darker one?

He knew which he preferred. Their brief encounter had left him wanting to know more; it would be a shame if her timely appearance was meant to be his downfall.

“Let us extend an invitation to Dr. McKinnon, shall we? Under the circumstances, it might be better to hold our little meeting away from Matthew’s watchful eye.”

* * *

A
na looked at the gold-embossed vellum in her hand as if it might bite her.

S
he re-read it at least three times before the man who delivered it cleared his throat quietly, reminding her of his presence. He looked to be around twenty or so, just past boyhood, with dark eyes framed by sinfully dark lashes against pale skin and exquisitely chiseled features, though he was too masculine to truly be considered “pretty”.