Bound by Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 1) by WB McKay Page A

them like they were a myth. Death comes to all , my sisters would say, but some are worse than others .
    "We don't usually speak of such things," Ava said.
    "I'm fine," Patricia said, and then she smiled sweetly. "I got my revenge." I returned Patricia's smile, and she smiled back wider. "I like her," Patricia announced to Ava. It took a second to realize she was talking about me. "If she hadn't insulted him, they might have really liked each other."
    "You think so?" Ava asked her, nose doing that bunny twitch again.
    Patricia nodded. "She's very... fiery." That had Patricia laughing hysterically and Ava twitching her nose.
    "Yes, but the fact remains, she insulted him." Ava shook a finger at me. "You insulted his club!"
    "Now, hold on." I wished I was standing instead of sunken in the sofa with Patricia hovering above and the both of them laughing at me. I settled for perching on the arm of the sofa, and when Ava didn't seem bothered, I said, "You keep saying his club. You don't mean—I mean..." I gathered my thoughts. "Does he own Smoke and Mirrors?"
    "Oh, yes," Ava said innocently. "Did I fail to mention that?"
    My jaw flapped with all the sarcastic comments I was trying not to say. I really didn't like this being nice stuff. Finally, I said, "That would have been good information to have."
    "Hmm, I agree. Though, I must say, I didn't imagine you'd insult his club. You were conversing with someone who frequented the establishment. You didn't consider that would upset him, even if he wasn't the owner?"
    Patricia tsked .
    "I told you I wasn't good at people," I said hotly. "This is your fault. You didn't give me all the information I needed."
    "You handle failure with such grace."
    "You're really pushing me with this failure crap."
    She quirked her head to the side. "It's working so well. Look at you trying to be polite so I'll help you, like I don't already know of your temperament."
    "I—you—" I fumed. "You are a pain in the ass, lady."
    "Ahh, there you are."
    Patricia shook her head. "You two have a strange friendship. It was nice meeting you, Sophie. Good luck with the boy!" She waved a hand and blinked out of existence.
    "Did she leave?" I asked.
    "Yes. Now, let's get to work. I think I'll help dress you this time."
    "Why?"
    "For fun," she said brightly, and when I kept staring at her, she added, "He'll be less likely to recognize you if you're dressed differently."
    "You think that'll be enough?" I shook my head. "I keep telling you I don't want to do this. Every security system has a loophole. This is what I do. I'll find a way in. I appreciate your help, but I'm going to do this on my own."
    "Sophie," she said with great disappointment. "We've been over this."
    She was right. We had. But how could she possibly think this would work? "I'll pay the next girl he sleeps with to steal it for me," I said. There . That sounded like a good plan.
    Half of Ava's face twitched.
    "Are you having a stroke?" I asked, rising to my feet.
    "Ugh! I thought I was doing it that time." At my perplexed look, she explained. "I was trying to do the thing you're always doing where you raise one eyebrow ."
    I raised a brow at her. "That?"
    "Show off."
    I stretched out a hand and pushed one of her brows up for her. She did the bunny twitch with her nose and swatted my hand away. When I leaned back, she was smiling. Warmly, she told me, "You're a lot of things Sophie, but you're not laid-back enough to trust someone you don't know to do this job for you."
    There she was, telling me how I was again. Damned if she wasn't right. There was no way I was going to trust some random person to retrieve something for my job, let alone something personal. I tried to glare at her, but she was being so nice. "Y ou should have told me he owned the club."
    "You're right, I should have," she admitted.
    She didn't offer an apology, which I respected. She'd been offering me help and left out one detail, not on purpose. There wasn't anything to be sorry for.