knew how to do, and I was comforted by the familiar.
“You know this piece of machinery?” Klayn asked.
“Sure. I have one of my own and was an amateur photographer before…before all of this.” I waved my arm about, generally encompassing everyone I could see. “Nice to see modern equipment being mostly plastic works for your normal mode of transportation. Thanks for picking it up for me.”
“You’re welcome. Call out if you need anything else.” He retreated to stand with the other guards.
With Tarrek right on my heels, I began walking around the scene of the disappearance and taking pictures of the footprints, using my sneaker-clad foot as a reference point to size. Some of the footprints were very clear, as were some of the prints-within-prints, while others were nothing more than a mess of disturbed earth. I followed the prints, making mental notes about the size and space of the stalker and stalked footprints and apparent strides. Jossel’s footprints, which were easy to discern due to the direct pattern of his path, had been the larger of the two. Or was it three? A new set seemed to appear from nowhere. Taking more pictures, I walked on and came to a point where there had obviously been a fight. The boot prints were a mess, turning up dirt and grass, and there was a trail of rusty colored earth, likely where blood had been spilled, at the farthest edge of the struggle. But whose blood I didn’t know. And then I made my first mistake, one I have promised myself I will never make again. I failed to look up. Tarrek’s attention was focused on my progress, and as I turned to ask him about the possibility of typing the blood, I saw strange markings carved into the trees, spaced in a rough circle about seven feet up each trunk. Recognizing the symbols, I stood quickly and turned to ask Tarrek’s opinion regarding their origin.
“Tarrek,” I began, my voice sounding hollow to my ears, “look at—” Something huge punched me in the left shoulder. It spun me like a top, and I began to fall. The last thing I remember was Tarrek’s bellowing rage, the rushing of the guards and the breaking of dawn. It was a beautiful sunrise.
I woke up sweating, covered in piles of blankets. It was so odd. My shoulder didn’t hurt. Much. Okay, a little but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Because I was relatively certain I had been shot, though with what I wasn’t positive. The only thing I was sure of was that someone had been aiming for my heart and had to have intended my death. And I was sure I knew who that someone was. I wanted to talk to Tarrek before outing the guy because this was going to affect him directly.
The door opened, and the devil himself came through. Tarrek had changed into cream leather trews, a long white poet’s-style shirt and black knee-high boots. Sort of a roguish pirate look. Slap his image on a romance novel, and it was bound to become a best seller. Yum. He even had the short sword strapped to his hip. And I was willing to bet he had other weapons tucked away on his person.
“How are you?” he asked in a soft voice, as if I would crack from the sound.
“I’m fine,” I rasped. “I could use some water, though.”
He reached for a cup and poured something electric blue into it.
“What’s that?” I asked, taking the cup from him and looking inside before I took a sip and made a face.
“It’s a sleeping draught offered by our physician,” he said, reaching over to stroke my hair. The air he disturbed with his movement swept over me and I inhaled deeply. He smelled and looked delicious. It was sort of a combination of oranges and cinnamon. Manly potpourri. What was going on?
“Are you wearing cologne?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended it to be. He smiled, and I can only describe the look on his face as bashful.
“You can smell that?” He looked both embarrassed and pleased.
“Smell what exactly?”
He fidgeted, adjusting his boot tops, then his belt. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he said, “It’s just me, myself. In the sithen the smell becomes intensified.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s my home, and it’s my magic.”
“But what is it?” I pressed.
“It’s the smell fairies release to attract partners.” He saw the look on my face and