Scattered Magic (The Sidhe (Urban Fantasy Series) Book 1) by S. Ravynheart, S.A. Archer Page A

of the landing, but she hung onto her weapon. Rolling to her back, she brought up the gun again.
    Not as fast as Bain. His bare foot caught her wrist and drove it down hard onto the stone floor. The twiggy fingers of one hand circled her other wrist twice and pinned it down above her head. He choked her with the other hand, keeping her down even though she twisted and struggled wildly.
    Those evil teeth clicked together as Bain chattered them an inch from her face. His breath was worse than a festering peat bog. “Betrayer,” the word was almost lost to the grumbling hiss.
    “What did I do?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She brought up her legs, hooked them around Bain’s head and flipped him over backward. His limbs flailed like a squid in every direction, but in the end his body followed his head and whipped down and away from her.
    His claws ripped through the flesh of her neck. London shouted as the acid pain if the razor blade claws sliced thin gouges that bled like crazy down the front of her shirt. Cupping her hand against her throat, she brought the muzzle of her gun up once more. “Some hospitality you show your friends.”
    Bain ignored her, too engrossed with sniffing at the blood on his claws. He flicked a serpentine tongue out to wrap around the claw of his forefinger and steal away the blood. After the first taste, Bain curled his claws together and cleaned them like a cat.
    London backed closer to the doorway. Running was pointless against a teleporter, but if she made it out into the open he might not risk exposure to follow her. “I need to find the Changeling again,” she stated her business, not sure if Bain paid her any heed.
    He paused mid-lick, tongue still coiled around a claw. His impossibly huge eyes blinked at her. Like the dissipation of mist, Bain changed.
    Several inches above six feet, Bain appeared as he had before, a human male in elegantly tailored black slacks and a suede beige tunic that reached down to mid-thigh. A sash wrapped his waist in purple silk and draped down one hip. His blue black hair was loosely swept back and tied with a leather cord just below his shoulders. Even though his eyes were shaped as a human’s the color was still the golden green they were before. What his true form was, she didn’t know. Was it closer to this? Or to the creature from a moment before? In truth it didn’t matter.
    Either way, London wasn’t falling for it.
    “You’ve been Touched.” One last lick at his nails and then he fixed that feral gaze at her bloody shirt.
    “You taste it in the blood?” Her gun aimed center mass, right at the solar plexus. Best chance of hitting something if he moved fast.
    With an amused snarl, he said, “You will suffer plenty then.”
    “Glad someone finds that a comforting thought.”
    The curl of his lips lost any hint of a smile. “You delivered the fey into the hands of wizards. The Sidhe enslaved you for it. Nature finds its balance.”
    “Enslaved me?”
    Bain crossed on silent, leather-booted feet toward her. He did not slow even when she pointed the muzzle right at his heart. She backed away a step as his hand rose, and then she held her ground. Bain only halted his advancement when the gun pressed into his breastbone. Her arm was out straight, but his was longer. He reached up and stroked his fingertips through her hair tenderly. “What wouldn’t you do for the Touch?”
    What could she say? There was no point in admitting that it had been the single most intense experience of her life. No point in reminding herself how after only a single taste, she’d ached for more. That ache only hinted at the agony to come. The magic was still in her now, as Bain had tasted. While it lasted, she’d be ok. When it faded… and it would fade… She didn’t even want to contemplate that.
    “Deacon meets your wizards on the Isle of Man. In Douglas.” Bain’s fingers trailed over hers, where she still covered her wounds. “Your wizards are growing