Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(43)

‘What?’ He sprang up, the very picture of alarm. ‘The Foinse is failing? Uh Integrity, that can’t happen! You can’t let it happen!’

I regarded him thoughtfully. It hadn’t occurred to me that the Foinse would regulate Bob’s magic too. I supposed it really did affect everyone after all. ‘I’m certainly going to do my best,’ I told him, meaning it. ‘The thing is, before I can help the other Sidhe to open it up, I need to receive my true name. I left the Clans and the Sidhe before I was thirteen so I never went through the ceremony and I have no idea what to expect.’

‘You don’t know?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Everyone knows what happens during the naming ceremony. You get your true name. And usually a magical Gift too.’

‘Yes, that part I’m aware of. But how does the ceremony work?’

‘You’re the Sidhe,’ he blustered. ‘You should know.’

I sighed. ‘You don’t know anything about it either, do you?’

His shoulders drooped. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Not a scooby.’

Shite. ‘There was something about a fever,’ I said, worried at the thought that I might get sick. ‘I’m going to need you to stick close,’ I told him. ‘I might need to use one of those wishes after all.’

‘Don’t tease me, Uh Integrity,’ he moaned. ‘I know you’re one of those stubborn types.’

There was a sharp knock at the door. I looked meaningfully at Bob and he snapped off a salute, hopping back into the blade with another blinding flash. He gave me a little wave from inside then vanished.

Cautiously opening the door a fraction, I gazed out. Well, well, well. It was none other than Dimples himself.

‘Hey!’ I said cheerfully. ‘Good to see you again!’

He threw me a look that was dirtier than the magazine picture I had shoved into the envelope and pretended to post. Okay, he was going to hold a grudge. That was a shame.

‘I’m here to ask if everything is to your satisfaction.’

He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. He was probably being made to do this as a punishment for losing the Lia Saifire. I should feel guilty but he shouldn’t have been so na?ve as to carry it around with him in the seediest part of Aberdeen.

‘The bed’s going to feel like I’m doing penance for my sins,’ I said cheerfully. ‘But other than that, I’m all good.’

‘Great.’ His expression wasn’t thrilled. ‘I’ll leave you in peace then.’

‘So I can rest?’ I punned. ‘But I’m too young to die!’ He gazed at me blankly. ‘Rest in peace,’ I tried to explain.

‘Is that supposed to be a joke?’

‘Obviously not a very good one,’ I muttered. ‘What’s your name, anyway?’ I didn’t think he’d warm to me very much if I went around calling him Dimples.

He grunted in response. ‘Jamie.’

‘I’m Integrity.’ I stuck out my hand for him to shake. He eyed it like it was a venomous snake. ‘Maybe we could start over, Jamie. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.’

‘I got into a lot of trouble because of you. You stole from me.’

‘You mean the Lia Saifire? Byron mentioned something about that. What makes you think that was me?’

He threw me a doleful glance. ‘I’m not a complete idiot.’

I bit my tongue, waving my hand instead. He took it reluctantly, his grip tight and painful. I squeaked and pulled away. ‘While you’re here, Jamie, do you think you could tell me a little about this true name ceremony thing?’

His lip curled. ‘You don’t know?’

Would I be asking if I did? ‘No,’ I replied pleasantly.

Jamie sighed as if a huge burden had been placed on his shoulders. The sigh was followed by a strange burble. I blinked at him. ‘Are you feeling alright?’

The burble deepened. Jamie’s eyes widened and he stared at something behind my shoulder. Ha. I wasn’t going to fall for the old ‘look behind you’ trick. I was smarter than that. Or at least I thought I was until something coiled round my waist and dragged me backwards.

‘What the hell?’ I shrieked.

Jamie tried to back away but as I was dealing with the tentacle round my waist, another one snapped up round his wrist and dragged him inside the room. My fingers scrabbled, trying to loosen the damn thing’s grip. It wasn’t dry to the touch, despite its scales; it was slimy and wet, making it even more difficult for me to get a decent hold on it.

‘Tell me,’ I gasped, as I was flung against the far wall, ‘that you have a useful gift like telekinesis.’

‘Psychometry.’ He karate-chopped the tentacle that encircled his wrist. All he succeeded in doing was pissing it off because another tentacle appeared from nowhere and grabbed his other arm. ‘It means,’ he said, as he squirmed desperately, ‘that I can tell you this is a stoor worm. From the North Sea. It’s just a baby.’

What kind of a worm has tentacles? This was not good. ‘If it’s from the sea, then how the hell did it get here?’

‘Don’t know,’ he muttered as he was thrown up into the air then slammed down onto the stone floor with a painful thud.

‘Is this normal?’ By which I meant: is someone likely to work out what’s going on and come and rescue us?