Page 42 of Wicked Deeds

I straightened my shoulders. Make yourself look big. Wasn’t that what cats did? “This is my territory and Lianith’s. You are not welcome here. I cede no loyalty to the Nichtkin. I am allied with Lady Cerridwen. If someone has sent you here, tell them they can speak to her or me directly. But I will not have my territory invaded. There will be consequences for the next one of you who shows up.” I emphasized that last word by drawing a flame to my hand, letting it dance there.

The nixling flinched back at the sight of the flame.

“Yes, I have magic of my own. I can defend this territory, and I will defend it.” I let the flame flare for a few seconds before pulling it back. Lianith bared her teeth.

The nixling didn’t move, though its tails were twice the size they had been. I didn’t want to set it on fire, particularly not after spending a few days with Lianith and learning how cute nixlings were, but I wasn’t going to be pushed around in my own house. I took a step closer, let the flame brighten slightly, and the nixling backed up to the next step.

Lianith let out a noise that was far more a growl than previously. That seemed to be the deciding factor.

The nixling turned, bolted up the steps and across the deck, diving off the other side.

Lianith gave chase but returned within a minute or so. “Gone,” her voice said in my head loudly enough that I had no trouble hearing a certain degree of smug satisfaction in the statement.

I allowed myself a fist pump. “Thank you.” Hopefully the nixling would return to the realm and report back to whoever had sent it. If it was from Usuriel’s territory, well, I’d deal with what happened next. If he was trying to see if he could push me around…well, yes, he was scary, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to push back.

Chapter Eleven

“Come to mama.”I sniffed the aroma of strong coffee happily as I poured a fresh mug. After Lianith and I had dealt with the nixling intruder last night, I’d informed Cassandra and Callum and decided whoever was on night duty could update Mitch. Then I’d gone back to bed and surprised myself by crashing out instantly, waking only enough to register when Damon finally made it home. When my alarm went off, he was gone again.

I’d decided checking in with him could wait until I’d showered, refueled and caffeinated. I’d achieved the shower, and coffee and breakfast were imminent. But before I could settle at the table with my caffeine fix and one of Amy’s breakfast muffins, Madge chimed an alert.

“Yes?” I said before taking a bite of the muffin and chewing happily. Amy swore the muffins were healthy, and I’m sure they were, but she was a goddess of the kitchen who knew how to make a healthy muffin taste like the regular loaded-with-fat-and-sugar kind.

“There is someone at the gate, Maggie. She says she knows you.”

“She?” I ask curiously. “Can you put the feed on the screen, please?”

Madge already knew all the people likely to visit me. This was probably some random Damon groupie, trying to weasel their way in using my name.

That was the problem with dating a famous guy. People knew my name. And, worse, tried to use it to their advantage. A problem compounded by the fact that it’s impossible to be as famous as Damon is and keep your address secret. And made worse by Damon insisting on living in a normal neighborhood. If by ‘normal’ you meant ‘full of rich people’. But it wasn’t gated, and he hadn’t bought a property out in the country somewhere we could have miles and miles of land between the front gate and a house and taken to commuting via chopper or something. Though come to think of it, it was entirely possible he did own a farm or a ranch or an estate or whatever the hell you called it. Or several.

He had houses and apartments in multiple cities and I hadn’t even been to all of those yet. But I knew it was unlikely he’d ever abandon San Francisco as his base. Not when he’d fought so hard to help rebuild the city.

A holoscreen blinked into life at eye height, showing the security feed from the front gate. To my surprise, I recognized the face looking up at the gate camera.

Gwen Jones.

What the hell?I dropped the muffin back onto the plate, wondering if I was mistaken. It wasn’t even a week since I’d talked to Aubrey and she’d said nothing about Gwen planning to come to the States.

I zoomed in on the image. Yep, it was her. She’d chopped her long pale-blonde hair to shoulder length since I’d seen her last, but it was definitely Gwen.

What the hell was she doing here?

“Connect me to the intercom, please,” I said to Madge.

“Of course, Maggie. Connecting now.”

The picture zoomed in on Gwen’s face. She was chewing her lip, looking worried. “Gwen, hi” I said, keeping my tone neutral. She jumped a little anyway, blinking up at the camera, her eyes widening.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. This is Maggie,” I continued. “Do you want to come in?”

Her expression turned nonchalant, but I could see she was trying to be casual. “Maggie, hi. Yes, please.”

Her accent wasn’t as posh as Aubrey’s, but it was still what I thought of as well-off English. She sounded tired, though, her voice raspier than I remembered. Which was not surprising if she’d just spent eleven or so hours on a plane. I zoomed the picture out. Even though she sounded tired, she was still startlingly pretty, her Fae blood clear in the elegant curves of her face and the gleam of her skin, even through the vidfeed. A massive, well-stuffed green backpack rested on her back and one hand gripped the handle of a large suitcase.

More luggage than someone planning a short visit might need.

Perfect. She’d run away from home. Or whatever the adult equivalent was.

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