Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(12)

‘So,’ Bob said cheerfully, ‘what would you like?’

I frowned. ‘Excuse me?’

‘What wishes would you like? You get three, you know.’

No way was I going to fall for that trick. Anyone with a scrap of intelligence knew to steer clear of anyone offering wishes. ‘I’m good,’ I told him with a definite edge to my voice.

‘I don’t care whether you’re good or bad. What do you wish for first?’

‘Nothing. I don’t need anything.’

‘Hah!’ he scoffed. ‘Everyone needs something. Go on. You can tell Bob everything. I can make it happen.’

‘No thank you,’ I said primly.

He gazed at me, disappointed. ‘Why ever not?’

‘I know how these things work,’ I told him. ‘I ask for money and the next thing I know I’m receiving compensation for having my leg chopped off in a freak accident. I’ve read the stories. Everyone’s read the stories.’

He pouted. ‘You’re no fun.’

That stung. ‘You know what the psychiatrist said to the genie, right?’

Bob looked at me suspiciously. ‘What?’

‘That his feelings were all bottled up.’

He deadpanned me. ‘I don’t get it.’

I thought about explaining and then decided against it. Life was too short. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘jump back into the let— I mean the dagger, and I’ll take you back to where I found you. You can give the banker his wishes instead.’

‘Whoa! Hold your horses, Uh Integrity! I don’t want to go back there!’

I waggled my eyebrows. ‘Well, you’re certainly not staying here.’

‘He’s never once cleaned the blade. I’ve been trapped inside that thing for years! I can’t go back to that.’ Bob got down on his knees and clasped his fingers together, holding them up beseechingly in my direction. ‘Don’t make me!’

‘So what do you suggest?’ I said. ‘I’m certainly not going to pass you along to someone else so they can get burned by wishing for stupid stuff they don’t need.’

Bob gazed at me with an air of unmistakable desperation. ‘I take back what I said before. You’re obviously very smart for a Sidhe. Let me stick around. Even if you don’t use any of the wishes, I’m sure I can still help you.’

‘First of all,’ I said, ticking off my fingers, ‘I don’t need any help. And second of all, I’m not really a Sidhe.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Of course you are.’

‘I’ve renounced my heritage.’

Bob threw back his head and laughed. ‘It doesn’t work like that, you stupid…’ His voice faltered mid-sentence. ‘Oops. I didn’t mean that.’

The washing machine suddenly groaned as it switched gears. Shaking dramatically, it began its inexorable path across the kitchen floor. Bob, alarmed, jumped about a foot in the air. ‘A monster!’ he yelled. ‘Don’t worry, Uh Integrity! I’ll save you!’

Good grief. How long had he been stuck in that letter opener? ‘It’s not going to hurt you. It’s just a machine.’

His eyes went wide and saucer-like. ‘You mean it’s a robot?’ he whispered.

I hissed through my teeth. ‘No. I’m going to bed. If you’re going to stay here then don’t touch anything. I have to get some sleep.’

‘But it’s morning. Why do you have to go to bed in the morning?’

‘Sometimes I work nights,’ I said shortly. I waved a finger at him. ‘And I meant what I said. Don’t touch a damn thing. I’ll decide what to do with you later.’

‘Sure, sure.’ He nodded his head vigorously. ‘There’s just one thing though.’

‘What?’

There was a sudden loud thump on the door.

‘Someone’s here to talk to you,’ Bob answered cheerfully. And with that he hopped straight back into the blade.





Chapter Three





Whoever was at the door was feeling anxious. What began as a single loud thump turned into a battering ram of knocks that gave the washing machine a run for its money in the noise stakes. I pitied my poor neighbours. I also didn’t open the door immediately. Hours earlier I had, after all, been engaged in serious criminal activity. The last thing someone in my position wanted was the door to shake in its frame. Despite our failure at the bank, I was convinced we’d covered our tracks well but it was possible we missed something. Surely though, if this really were the police, they’d have announced themselves by now. Or broken down the door.

Remaining cautious, I grabbed Bob’s knife and slid it back into its sheath, hiding it underneath one of my piles of paper. Then I grabbed my kit from where I’d dropped it, shoved it into the wardrobe and jammed the door shut. Satisfied that there was nothing else incriminating on show, I nervously opened the front door.

The second I saw Taylor, I let out a sigh of relief. When I took in his dishevelled appearance, however, my wariness returned.

‘You took your time,’ Taylor huffed, pushing past me and pivoting to stare worriedly down the corridor as if angry hordes were on his tail.

‘What is it?’ I asked, alarmed. Taylor lived his life in a cloud of blithe calm. Even taking his money worries into consideration, his present demeanour was uncharacteristic. ‘What’s happened?’