Faerie Blood by Emma L. Adams

Author:Emma L. Adams [Adams, Emma L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BA
Published: 2016-04-15T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Crap. “What?” I said stupidly. The copious bleeding coupled with the draining effect of the faerie magic wearing off pushed me to the brink of passing out. I leaned against the desk to hide my weakness.

“What did you do?” he repeated. “That magic you used on the faerie. I saw it.”

Yeah. Of course you did. “I killed the faerie,” I croaked, my throat raw. “Don’t I get a ‘thank you’?”

Vance’s eyes flashed. He looked tired but not injured, which would have relieved me if not for the expression on his face. The black scales on his hands hadn’t receded yet, which accounted for the throbbing pain in my arm where he’d gripped it when he’d transported us out of there.

There was no way at all to cover up what I’d done. None. All I could do was spin what I had left into a good cover story. But this guy was a thousand times more discerning than anyone I’d met.

“So,” he said. “Faerie magic. You didn’t mention that on your licence.”

“It’s a hobby,” I said. “I told you—you don’t get my life story. I guess I have faerie ancestors somewhere.” I was at my lowest ebb, but I’d keep my secrets on pain of death. For all he knew, I might have faerie ancestors. My family tree didn’t exist anymore.

“You told me you were human.”

“I am human,” I snapped. “What do you want, a DNA test?” The room swayed. Goddammit. He didn’t appear to notice the blood dripping from my side onto the plush carpet. His eyes were narrowed to slits in an animal-like manner and the aura of power I’d noticed during the fight crackled around him like lightning. The part of me that wasn’t about to faint from blood loss turned to watery terror, and my hand rested on the desk, leaving a bloody handprint. “You’re not human yourself, so it’d be hypocritical of you to attack me even if I wasn’t.”

He glanced down at the black scales on his hand like he’d only just noticed them. “I never denied what I was,” he said. “But you’re in denial about your own identity. Is that why you only accept menial pay from Larsen?”

“What the hell does my job have to do with anything?” I shot at him. “I kill faeries. Magic helps me do that sometimes. I’m crap at regular witch magic.”

“You’re not a witch at all,” he said. “Are you?”

“I don’t know.” Damn. Why did this have to happen now? “You’re the one who came up with the definition. Your sort define ‘witch’ as any magic user who doesn’t belong to your little cult. I’m not a necromancer, so ‘witch’ is the only label left. Not my problem if you don’t like it.”

“I didn’t come up with the definition,” he said. “But you don’t have a licence for magic.”

I laughed harshly. “So give me one. I saved your neck, Vance. Even you can’t deny that.” I managed to shut my mouth before the accusation escaped—your people abandoned me when I was desperate.

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