Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(11)

‘Like a moth to a ruddy flame,’ I muttered, pulling the knife out from its sheath.

The blade was stained. Clearly its previous owner hadn’t cared for it very much. The heady and unpleasant perfume from the letters it had been used to open still clung to the metal. Grabbing a nearby dishtowel, I gently rubbed along its length, wiping away the grime and, hopefully, the smell.

The washing machine began to kick into high gear, starting its shuffle across the marbled floor. That’s probably why I didn’t notice the strange buzzing sound to begin with. It was the odd scent of cinnamon which caught my attention first.

Wondering if it was a base note from the perfume, or perhaps remnants of a long-forgotten cleaning agent, I sniffed the blade again. As I did so, a blinding flash of light seared my eyeballs. What the hell was that? Crying out, I dropped the knife and covered my face with my arm.

‘I can still see you, you know. It doesn’t work for ostriches and it doesn’t work for you.’

I froze. The booming voice sounded as if it had come from right in front of me. Baffled, and still squinting, I lowered my arm and stared. The knife lay on its side where it had clattered to the floor and the washing machine continued to rumble ? but there was definitely no one else in the room. I was going mad. Or dreaming.

I turned slowly, wary that someone might be behind me. There was nothing more than the battered ironing board propped up against the far wall and the kitchen table covered with old bills and bits of paper that I’d left out so I could file them away in carefully labelled folders, ready for transportation.

‘Honestly, for a faerie, you’re pretty stupid.’

Okay: I definitely hadn’t imagined that. ‘Hello?’ I asked cautiously, wondering whether it could be a ghost.

‘Great Scott!’ The voice said, utterly exasperated. ‘I’m down here!’

Rubbing my eyes again, I stared at the floor, feeling like an idiot. ‘Where?’

‘Here!’

A flicker of movement caught my eye and I saw him, crouching down next to the discarded letter opener. A tiny man wearing what appeared to be a tuxedo. He wasn’t any larger than my thumb. I did what any girl would do in such a situation. I gaped.

‘I knew a goldfish who did that once,’ the little man commented.

‘Who are you?’

A grin spread across his face. I realised that he was the most perfectly apple-cheeked being outside of the toddler three doors down that I’d ever seen in my life.

‘I’m Bob!’ he answered cheerfully. ‘Who are you?’

‘Uh,’ I licked my lips, still not sure if any of this was real, ‘Integrity.’

‘Uh Integrity? That’s a strange name. I’m guessing it’s not your true one.’

Something inside me closed off. ‘You mean because I’m a Sidhe,’ I said flatly. ‘Well, we’re not all the same. I don’t have a true name.’

‘Every Sidhe has a true name. And a magical Gift to go along with it.’

‘No.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘They don’t.’

Bob put a hand on his hip too, obviously mimicking me. Then he flounced. I definitely did not look like I was doing that. Whoever this strange intruder was, he was making fun of me. That was okay. I liked daft jokes ? but I still dropped my hands.

‘Ooooooh,’ Bob said. ‘Touchy.’

Folding my arms, I glared down at him. ‘What the hell are you and how did you get into my flat?’

‘Well, duh! Isn’t it obvious?’

A prickle of annoyance ran down my spine. ‘If it was obvious, I would hardly be asking you, would I?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s true that you don’t seem to be the smartest owner I’ve ever had but, hey, it’s not like I had much of a choice.’

My eyes narrowed. That was an interesting – and incredibly distasteful – choice of words. ‘Owner?’

‘Of course!’ He pointed to the letter opener. ‘I am Bob. The Genie of the Sword.’

I looked from the fallen blade to him and back again. ‘You mean letter opener.’

‘No, no, no, no,’ he declared. ‘This is a sword.’

‘It’s really not.’

He flicked a disdainful glance at it. ‘Alright,’ he conceded, ‘it’s not a sword. But it is a very fine example of a dagger.’

‘It’s a letter opener.’

‘No, it’s a…’

I held up my palm to forestall him. ‘Let’s agree to disagree, shall we? Besides, I thought genies lived in lamps. How do you live in a letter opener?’

‘Dagger. And there was one genie who lived in one lamp a very long time ago who gets all the sodding credit and is in all the sodding stories. Most of us aren’t that lucky.’

‘You live in the metal?’ I asked doubtfully.

‘Of course!’ He sprang back to the blade, grinning. ‘Watch.’

There was another painful flash of light. I swore again, wincing because my eyeballs felt like they were on fire. When I recovered enough to see properly again, I picked the knife up gingerly between my finger and thumb. Sure enough, reflected there in the flat surface, was Bob’s smiling face. He gave me a two-dimensional wave. Then the air filled with a hum once more. At least this time I was smart enough to cover my eyes.