HEATH

The stairs stop abruptly in a low-ceiling area, where a row of wooden chairs line the dark-blue painted walls. Two men sit on seats outside Mac's room, and the black door, which almost blends into the wall, is shut. I expected bodyguards or some kind of security, but the only people here are fae kids sitting in silence as if waiting at a doctor’s surgery.

A guy with spiked, blue hair and enough metal in his face to make cutlery from stares at his shoes; the other rests his head against the wall and stares upwards. He looks human, but I don't think he is, just a fae who normally blends himself into their society.

"I don't want to waste my time on this." Ewan walks straight by and yanks at the door handle. The metal-faced guy jumps to his feet as he begins to open the door.

"I'm next! And you can't go in there without an appointment." Desperation fills his voice, not anger, but if he confronted Ewan bets are off who'd win.

With a disparaging look, Ewan slams his palm on the door to open it and walks through. He immediately stops and I have to step to one side to avoid walking into him.

A man looks up in surprise, dropping his attention from where a girl straddles his lap, lying backwards against his outstretched arms. The pale blue magic swirling like a cloud around his fingers touches her chest, above her breasts, and a glow surrounds her face.

For one shit moment, I worry I walked in on him screwing someone, but she’s wearing black skinny jeans. Instead, this looks like at bizarre lap dance.

How the hell does she sit on him at that angle and not fall backwards onto the carpet?

The man's sitting, but his height is apparent. He's dressed in a suit, a grey shirt unbuttoned at the front. Short dark hair is pushed upwards into a quiff, and his eyes glow the same colour as the magic. The blue light surrounding him strokes his high cheekbones and emphasises the otherworldly look beneath his human appearance. His chest rises and falls rapidly, but he's composed. In control.

The small room's walls are painted black, and the energy from the magic fills the space. I'm not susceptible, but the intensity hurts my head, a static pain behind my eyes.

Continuing to watch us, he strokes from beneath the girl's chin and along her neck, the blue cloud following the line of his fingers. A murmur escapes her lips and her eyes are closed in a weird ecstasy. This explains the girl's aroused state earlier.

"Can I help you?" he asks, nonplussed

I've met Mac a couple of times, and don't like the guy. He's a predator. The guy maintains his youth by exchanging magic with these people to gather his own strength. In return, he infuses them with ancient magic that many fae can't access. This stronger magic has been lost through generations, and few still hold it. Some would argue at least he's not using it for destruction, but here he is destroying fae lives.

The youngest fae generation don't care about their magic power, most preferring a human existence, and some trade for a taste of ancient magic. Powerful, mind-altering, and addictive. The newer fae then lose their magic power as they siphon the spell energy to the dealer, who uses it to keep himself strong.

"We need to talk to you," says Ewan.

"Will this wait? I have a customer."

The girl shifts against him and runs fingers through her long white hair that almost touches the floor, she leans back that far. I blink. The magic's holding her up. This isn't sex, but I'm bloody uncomfortable watching.

"The sooner we talk, the sooner we can leave you to your "—Ewan screws up his face as he looks at the girl too—"activities."

"Her time's up anyway." Sliding a hand behind the girl's back, he draws her to him, and the girl's head lolls on Mac's shoulder. "Give her a few minutes to come back to us."

The girl willingly gives herself, but the scenario creeps me out. If we ever mend ties with Portia again, I need to ask her why she allows this.

"For fuck's sake," mutters Ewan and turns away.

The girl's unaware of us as if she could float out of the room. I imagine she would since she's shimmering with the high he infused into her.

"Can I take a rest in your bedroom?" she whispers and runs a hand coyly along his jacket.

Mac takes her hand and kisses the back. "Not tonight, beautiful.”

"Please." Her attempt to look coy is lost in the drugged expression.

"Not tonight." His voice lowers, firmer, and she climbs from his lap with an apology. Don't upset your dealer.

The girl finally notices us and turns a lazy smile our way. "Enjoy," she murmurs as she leaves.

Mac laughs softly and sits back on his seat. "Why are you here? You can’t trade with me."

"We're not here for that," Ewan snaps.

The blue in his eyes fades back to a normal shade, and he taps his lips with a finger. "Is this about the humans trying my magic? I thought you didn't interfere. Nobody is getting hurt."

"What the fuck?" I ask. "You'd better be kidding me."

He flicks his fingers dismissively. "Most only try once because they can't handle what I give them. Besides, they have no magic to give in return."

I snort. "But they have money."

"Yes. I suppose they do." He rests back. "They enjoy other pleasures with the fae, so experimenting with magic isn't unusual."

"No race is to coerce humans through deception," growls Ewan.

Mac snorts. "They don't remember anything when they leave. Really, you’re worrying about nothing."

“If we catch you harming humans, you know what the answer will be.” Ewan crosses his arms. “A painful one for you.”

“Okay, okay. Hint taken. I’ll back off them, okay?” He cranes his head towards the door. “Can you leave? I’m busy with clients.”

Firstly, I don’t need Vee here to know the guy’s lying about backing off on a lucrative market, and secondly his attitude towards us is about to cause problems.

“We're looking for Elyssia de Court," Ewan says. "Has she visited you?"

A door at the opposite end of the room clicks, and a girl stands in the doorway. Her hair has escaped from the long blonde plait, and she holds a T-shirt in her hand, sinking against the doorframe as she waves it at her dealer.

"Babe, is this mine?"

My eyes are involuntarily drawn to her, because show me one guy who can't when a seminaked girl walks into a room. Not that I've any interest, especially when a second later I meet her eyes.

Ewan beats me to it. Mac doesn’t need to answer our question.

"Elyssia?" The girl's glazed look retreats and she steps back slamming the door. Ewan's there in seconds, pushing his way through.

"Okay," I snarl at the guy. "What the fuck is she doing here?"

"Who? Annabelle? She's a close friend." His mouth spreads into a smile. "Well, this week she is."

"Uh. Right. She's not Annabelle. She's Elyssia de Court."

He straightens and blinks. "What the fuck?"

"Yeah, y'know… the queen of this realm? Her daughter."

He springs to his feet, and I sneer at the cocky attitude evaporating. "I didn't know!"

"You don't know who Portia's daughter is? Give me break."

"I don't know what her bloody offspring look like. I don’t pay attention to what Portia does unless I need to. I ignore her, you know that."

I laugh. "Yeah, well I don't think she's gonna ignore you when she finds out about this."

Mac drags his hands down his face. "Fuck!" He follows Ewan and flings the door open. "Get her out of here! Now!"

A trembling Elyssia sits on the bed, T-shirt now on, arms wrapped around her legs as she looks up. "No. Don't make me leave."

"Elyssia. You need to," I say attempting to temper my tone.

"I'm not going home!" she says. "I won't go back there! She wants to send me away. I'm not having guys chosen for me, and I'm definitely not marrying one of them."

I exchange a glance with Ewan. Elyssia ran away? And Portia never told us?

"I don't want you here," growls Mac. “You fucking lied to me! Do you know what could happen now? Shit!”

"My mother doesn't care about this place; she'd never know I was here." Elyssia narrows her eyes at me. "If you hadn't come here, I could've moved on."

"It's a bloody good thing we did!" snaps Ewan. "Get off that bed, now."

"You don't tell me what to do!"

"Okay. I'll call your mother then, should I?" Ewan puts a hand in his back pocket.

She stumbles to her feet. "No! Okay. But don't take me back to her."

As if we have any choice.

Mac holds his hands up, palms out. "She's nothing to do with me anymore. Take her."

I grit my teeth at how dismissive he is, but I bet I don't have enough fingers to count how many girls he's had in this bed in the last week alone.

"Didn't you notice her magic was stronger?" snaps Ewan.

"Hey, some kids have stronger magic if they're bred right. I just thought she must be from a purer line."

I wish Vee were here to spot if he's lying.

* * *

VEE

Heath appears and leans down to whisper something to Xander. Xander's face hardens, and Joss shifts closer to catch the conversation.

"Trouble?" asks Seth and takes a nervous glance over his shoulder.

"Maybe."

"What is this place? There're some seriously weird people here. I swear half of them are on drugs."

Nobody pays attention to Seth, whose interest in his surroundings grew after Syv left with assurances she'll help.

Xander walks away with Heath, and Joss shuffles over. "They just found a certain fae queen's daughter."

"Elyssia?" I burst out. "I bet her mum isn't happy she comes here."

"Nope. Especially as she was in bed with the fae's premiere magic dealer."

"Wow. What's happening?"

"They've gone to collect her. Hopefully Xander won't need to carry her out over his shoulder."

I chew my lip at the imagery. Yep. Could totally see that happening.

Xander reappears with Ewan and a girl. Ewan's hand grips the girl's arm who stumbles as she walks through the doorway towards us. Last time I saw Elyssia, she was pinned against her lounge room wall by a demon. This time, she's the image of teenage rebellion, dressed in tight, deliberately distressed clothes and her white blonde hair trailing from the ponytail around her heavily made-up face.

And either drunk or high.

The unimpressed girl pulls her arm away from Ewan's grasp as she approaches and rubs her eyes.

"We're taking her home," says Xander, tone short. "Come on."

"Oh no, you're not taking her," replies Heath. "You're the last person Portia wants to see."

"I have her daughter!"

"Exactly. I'll go with Ewan."

Elyssia sinks onto the sofa and rests her head back, staring at the ceiling. Xander sits opposite, elbows on knees. Is he waiting for her to try to run?

"Why's she here?" I ask Ewan. "Does Portia know?"

"Nope. She's run away from home."

"Oh." I look at her. "Why?"

"Remember Portia said she was sending Elyssia away? Yeah, well Elyssia doesn't agree with arranged marriage. Fae kids spend time too mixed up with humans these days, and then they don't want to play their roles. Especially fae princesses. "

Poor girl. How old is she? Nineteen? I know she finished school recently. I can't imagine any of her friends are facing exile.

And I don't want to think what Elyssia is facing when she's delivered home by the Pony Boys.