A Little Night Muse (2 page)

Unease twisted in Adelyn’s belly. Rumors of insanity haunted
the iron-born. Some whispered the handmaid pierced herself with iron to burn off
the cold guilt that so many had perished when she had not. “Nothing really
changes here,” Adelyn soothed. “Which is just as it should be.”

“Maybe you
should
change,
considering,” EveStar shot back.

Adelyn stiffened in shock. “You know better than most, the
phae
were devastated in the last upheaval. These
fugitives can’t risk revealing us again.”

The handmaid’s vague smile returned. “Change yourself? Is that
what I said? Ah, words are slippery as serpents. I meant, be sure to change your
glamour, child, lest yet another human sees you and falls in love.”

Adelyn winced at the reminder. Damn her eyes for inspiring that
odious ode. And damn her pointless preoccupation with pretty slippers that kept
her from asking the handmaid about the sunlit world. After all, EveStar had
walked among humans back when the
phae
had been
known and feared and revered. Now she never left the
phaedrealii
; how was Adelyn, small and steel-born, supposed to
survive?

Before Adelyn could ask that plaintive question, the corridor
ended in a small, empty chamber.

The end of the road. And the beginning of one.

While wisps drifted in dreamy helixes, EveStar eased the
satchel from Adelyn’s tight clutch. The handmaid sprinkled a pinch of spores in
a circle. “May you find what you’re looking for, child, what you truly
seek.”

Adelyn saw nothing past the rapidly sprouting spores. Tears
blurred everything else. When the mushrooms were knee high, a gust of
otherworldly air whirled through. Her breath hitched on the overwhelming fusion
of wet dirt, hot metal and air chilled to a biting edge. Would she ever again
feel the sanctuary of the court’s magic around her? Her thighs twitched with the
desire to run. But there was no place to hide in the
phaedrealii
. Which left her no choice.

Clamping one hand over her nose and mouth, she stepped into the
circle, into the sunlit world.

Chapter 2

At the bottom of the river valley, Josh Reimer halted
his horse to watch the morning sun break over the hills. The peaks thrust out of
last night’s snow, crisp against the blue sky. In moments, sunlight bathed the
icy dell, raising curls of mist, straight out of a fairy tale. Eastern Oregon
knew how to do late-winter mornings: pure, serene and wide open.

Of course,
some
people called it
barren, boring and lonely as hell. Josh blinked as the snow glare clouded the
vision in his one bad eye and reined in the wayward thought with a harshness
he’d never use on Bunco. Now why had he gone and thought of his ex on such a
pretty day? Probably because last night has been cold as a cast iron
commode.

“Could’ve used a hot body in my bunk.” He glanced down at the
cattle dog, waiting patiently beside Bunco’s hooves. “Besides you, boy.”

Wolly wagged his red stub of a tail agreeably but kept his gaze
on the three-story house at the far end of the field.

“Something up?” Josh drew his rifle from the saddle scabbard.
Closing his scarred eye, he sighted down the scope, sweeping the homestead.
Nothing. He had already made plans to check his neighbors’ cabin after the hard
freeze, so he kept the rifle in hand as he steered Bunco down the valley,
skirting the creek that burbled under the retreating ice.

With the Hunters out of town, he’d offered to keep an eye on
the place—said he’d use his good eye, which always got a laugh—since that spot
of strangeness last spring had left them all on edge. The unexplainable lights
and noises had been the last straw for Danielle, though she’d had one foot out
of the valley long before that.

“I don’t want my fifteen minute of fame to be a News of the
Weird report about getting mutilated by aliens,” she’d snapped.

“Aliens only mutilate cattle, so no worries about those fifteen
minutes unless you’re a cow.” As soon as the words cleared his lips, he knew
he’d made a mistake.

She packed the next morning—he hadn’t tried that hard to stop
her, had he?—and he signed the divorce papers, postmarked California, without
another word being exchanged. Still, Danielle had lasted longer than his
brother, Cole, who had ditched the valley a week after graduation.

“This place is crushing me, like it crushed Mom,” he’d said as
he folded the bus tickets labeled New York into the back pocket of his
jeans.

Josh had protested. “The sky goes on forever here.”

“Yeah, that’s even worse.”

Watching them leave—first his mother, then Cole, then
Danielle—had torn at Josh like the spring snowmelt undermined the willows along
the stream. But nothing could uproot him. As his father had said often enough
before dying (another kind of leaving) some people just wouldn’t see the wonders
of the valley. They would always want more, and it was best to let them go.

Josh wished he could let go of the memories as easily as they
had forgotten him.

Grateful for the distraction ahead, he focused on the
homestead. Vaile and Imogene Hunter had built a beautiful place. The huge
timbers of the cabin had been harvested seemingly without touching the
surrounding old growth, and a three-story picture window flawlessly reflected
the valley beyond. The house emerged like a dream from its surroundings.

Vaile had said they might have a few guests, but they had come
to the mountain valley to “get away from it all.” Josh’s impression—though they
hadn’t been specific—was the Hunters had left some strangeness of their own
behind. Hollywood, he guessed, or some other foreign land. They were both
stunning enough to be movie stars, though the exotic lilt in their accents
suggested maybe their country of origin was farther off. Regardless, they were
here now and obviously loved it.

Other than some coyote tracks and the harsh calls of scrub
jays, the homestead was untouched, quiet. Josh circled Bunco around back, Wolly
at heel. Behind the house, tall blackjack pines created a sheltered space
without snow. When both Bunco and Wolly lifted their heads to focus on the
porch, Josh thumbed off the rifle safety.

“Okay then, you come on out now, whatever you are.” He kept his
tone steady. “I ain’t fond of surprises.”

Bears and cougars, even wolves, prowled the valleys, but Vaile
didn’t keep any lunchable livestock. Still, even something as small as a
porcupine could do serious damage if it set up a woodshop in the log cabin.

Josh dismounted, stepping on a circle of toadstools that
sprouted out of the pine duff. A dry snake skin wound between the rounded caps,
which was odd. Too cold for snakes.

He ground tied Bunco and gave Wolly the stay signal. No sense
setting himself up for a dog bath if the intruder was a skunk.

He took two steps toward the porch and the door opened.

A woman.

His jaw dropped. No, not a woman. An angel. A porn star. Some
baffling mix of the three. His heart slammed against his ribs, as hard as if he
accidentally shot himself through the chest. Which would be embarrassing. Almost
as embarrassing as standing here with his jaw hanging loose, staring.

A dress of long scarves bound her from neck to foot. The
shifting edges only emphasized her curves. Breasts and hips in widespread,
man-hand-sized glory, with a sloping dip at the waist like a welcoming pass
between summits. Against the pale veils, her hair spilled in a midnight
waterfall, dark and shining.

And her eyes...Oregon was known for its greenery, but every hue
was captured in her brilliant eyes.

Damn, his mouth was still hanging open. His neighbors hadn’t
mentioned they’d be hosting Arabian princesses. His mind drifted to a thousand
and one nights.

“Miss.” He swept the hat off his head and clutched it between
his hands.

“I’m wet,” she said. “Come inside.”

His heart stopped. “Wet?” She didn’t mean...

She stepped back. “Come.” Her voice—soft and husky—was like a
velvet hook set in his stupid open mouth. But if she wanted to play catch and
release, he was willing game.

His boot hit the bottom step before he realized he was moving.
The snake skin stuck to his heel, and it rustled across the plank. He paused to
kick it free. “Damn snakes,” he muttered. He propped the rifle and his hat by
the porch railing as she backed into the house.

“It’s wet everywhere,” she said. “And cold.”

Cold
sort of snapped him out of his
daze. That and the splash of water under his foot spreading across the slate
tile.

“Well, hell.” Distracted by the plumbing problem, he glanced
around. “Busted pipe. I warned Vaile about insulating.”

She stiffened. “The Hunter is here?”

Josh shook his head. “The Hunters are away. Not sure when to
expect them back.” Now that he thought about it, seemed odd they hadn’t
mentioned a return date. Now that he thought about
that
, seemed odd he hadn’t questioned it before.

First things first. “I need to find that pipe.”

He edged past the woman. The scent of her—lush and mysterious
and dark, like the tiny seep springs in the woods, trickling from rocks and
roots—swirled around him. He inhaled, and his boots angled to follow her without
his conscious effort.

In the kitchen, the mini flood washed away his distraction.
“Shit.” He dragged one hand through his hair, trying to get his head on
straight. “The freeze last night must have broke a pipe.” He crouched by the
sink and opened the cabinet underneath. There, right at the wall. “Best to turn
off the whole house until we check the rest. Vaile will kill the contractor.”
When he turned and straightened, the woman’s face was drawn tight. “Hey there.
You okay?”

He put his hand on her arm. Through the silky fabric, she was
cold to his touch. But the spark that leapt between them was hot. Crazy-hot
scorching, like his nerves had turned to electrified fence.

She flinched. When she pulled away, the edges of the veils
separated, revealing bloody streaks.

The water, the spark, everything faded as he took her arm
again. “Miss, are you hurt? Where did this blood come from?” Fuck, now that he
thought about it, where had
she
come from? His head
seemed all hazy, but he forced himself to concentrate.

Without touching her again, Josh used the mass of his body to
steer her out of the kitchen mess. In the adjoining living room, an overstuffed
leather couch faced the valley view. Bunco’s hoof prints had melted into dark
circles in the snow, the only sign of life. No tire marks, no ski tracks, no
sweep of helicopter blades pushing up snow. How had she gotten here?

He herded her toward the couch. “Sit.”

She did and when he took a half step back, she looked up at
him, green eyes sparkling. Tears? God, he hoped not.

Though she had recoiled from his touch before, she reached out
and flattened her palm on his groin, just off center from the stamped bronze of
his belt buckle. It was his turn to jump. “What—?”

The intensity of her gaze pinned him as effectively as her
hand. “Where is the Hunter?”

Distracted again—hoo boy, was he distracted—by her hand so
close to his fly, he shook his head and tried to pretend she wasn’t touching
him. “Vaile and Imogene said they were going...somewhere. For...awhile.”
Everything seemed vague lately. His body was reacting to the woman’s innocent
touch as if he’d been alone forever...

“What do you know of the Hunter?” Though her hand trembled, her
tone held an irresistible insistence.

But he reacted more to the fear she tried to hide—and the
bloody bandages wrapped under the sleeve of her flimsy dress—than the demand in
her voice. “Vaile is a good guy,” Josh said gently. “If you need a safe place to
stay, he’ll give it to you.”

She shook her head, and the smooth darkness of her hair slid
forward over her shoulders. “There is only one place for me, and I can’t go
back.”

From his standing position, Josh looked down—inadvertently,
helplessly—at the upper curves of her breasts and the shadow between revealed by
the shifting veils. Only one fragile lacing seemed to hold the thing together.
He stepped back before her hand on his thigh triggered greater embarrassment for
them both.

The woman’s gaze arrowed up to him. “I need to find the
Hunter.”

“You can wait until they get home, but you won’t have any water
except what you pump from the well. And you’ll be cold as a witch’s...” His face
heated, and the words popped out of him. “You can wait for them at my
place.”

Her eyes widened—so did his; he couldn’t believe he just
offered this gorgeous creature a bunk—then narrowed with judgment. He knew he’d
be found wanting. He always was.

“Very well.” She pushed to her feet—was she wearing gold
slippers?—which put the top of her dark head below his chin, but she never
dropped her gaze. “Take me there.”

Imperious little thing. Misgivings nipped at him. But what
choice did he have? He couldn’t leave her there alone. Really, taking her back
with him was the neighborly thing, the only thing he could do.

Chapter 3

Adelyn stood between the strange beings known as Bunco
and Wolly while the human known as Josh Reimer—he had given her this information
freely, as if he didn’t know that names carried their own secret force—went to
find what he called the main water valve turnoff. Maybe in the sunlit world,
giving words to everything diluted the power of naming.

The dog and horse stared at her suspiciously. She knew Wolly
was just a dog because she had tried to impose the
verita
luna
—the Second Truth—on him. Even in her weariness, her
musetta
powers should have roused him to his alternate
shape had he been a wereling, but he only sneezed. And the mere horse—sadly
lacking both a spiraling horn and wings—sidled from her, putting one big hoof in
the middle of her
phae
gate.

Adelyn scowled at the ruined mushroom ring. She had used up all
her spoors getting this far. She had jumped from the coastal side of this place
known as Oregon, to the pointy mountain in the middle, following the signs of
fleeing
phae
. While the ocean and the mountain had a
certain rough charm, this place was just desolate, cold and stark and ugly. The
memory of the
phaedrealii
’s intricate dances and
sumptuous feasts made her eyes prickle with frustrated tears that threatened to
freeze on her cheeks.

She lifted one ruined slipper to kick the last standing
mushroom, but stopped herself. She had no way to return to the
phaedrealii
—no way to get word to Raze—until the
mushrooms released more spores. Just as well, the Hunter and his
sylfana
hadn’t been here. She needed a few days to get
her harvest and her bearings.

The human—Josh, she reminded herself—reappeared from around the
house. He retrieved the gun from beside the door where he had left it and came
toward her.

She swallowed hard.

Not that she feared his gun. It was steel, not iron. And he was
no Hunter that she should fear him, gun or no. But something about his steady
gaze and unfaltering step made her heart double its pace. She was too tired from
her ordeals to maintain a thick glamour and had only blurred the preternatural
edge of her beauty. She wanted him to tell her about the missing
phae
, not contemplate odes to her eyeballs. She’d had
entirely enough of odes.

Still, she had the sense he was seeing more than she might
like. That muddy-colored gaze of his—neither blue nor green nor brown under the
shadowing brim of his hat—seemed too perceptive for a mere mortal, despite the
faint clouding of a scar in his right eye. Perhaps he had a trickle of
phae
blood in him. That would explain the strands of
gold in his sandy hair, seeming to beckon her fingers to run through the thick,
ragged locks. And that would also explain why the missing
phae
were comfortable in this land of small, bitter, ugly
valleys.

She supposed the Hunter and his paramour weren’t exactly
missing
. They had fled. And she had been sent to
return them. The reminder of the vizier’s charge made her shift uncomfortably,
her feet cold in the thin slippers on the icy ground. Every
phae
should want to be back with the court. Even if some—
musetta
among them—might occasionally venture into the
sunlit world, they belonged in the
phaedrealii
, not
wandering among sharp-eyed humans like this Josh who might bring the iron
back.

He reached around her to slide the gun behind the horse’s
saddle. “You ready to go?” When Wolly barked, he smiled at the dog before
returning his gaze to her. “Where are your things?”

She resisted looking down at the remaining mushroom and lifted
her satchel in mute explanation.

“No boots even?” Josh shook his head. “Never seen a woman
travel so light.”

If only he knew.

He swung up onto the horse in a fluid move she didn’t quite
follow. Then he reached a hand down to her and waggled his fingers. “C’mon.”

She stared at his big, wide palm and those long, strong
fingers. With a reluctant sigh, she slid her hand into his.

The shock of her
musetta
powers
seeking a target rattled through her again, weakening her bones. But he hauled
her up with the strength in just one arm and sat her across his lap. The front
hump of the saddle pressed her close to the human. To Josh.

Oh, he was so warm. She hadn’t realized how the cold had sunk
in until his radiant heat surrounded her. For days now, she had been loosing her
powers in this world that seemed endlessly hungry for the touch of her magic.
She longed for the
phaedrealii
where—she couldn’t
believe she was willing to admit—she was nothing special. Her head bobbed
wearily, the warmth and the rocking of the mere horse lulling her.

“You never told me your name.” His voice rumbled through his
chest, intimate with their forced proximity.

“Adelyn.” The truth escaped her lips before she could censor
it. A sliver of shock pierced her. Why had she told him that? Did his voice have
a power over her?

No, he was a simple human. He couldn’t use her name against
her.

“Adelyn.” His tone was soft, soothing. “Pretty. Does it mean
something?”

“No.” Agitation made her twist upright. “And I ask you not to
share it with others. I prefer not to be known.”

“Fine by me. This is a good place for people who want to get
away.”

So Vaile and Imogene and the other escaped
phae
must have discovered. Adelyn had never wanted to get away.
Fleeing had been forced on her unfairly.

“I meant to ask you,” Josh said. “How did you get here? I
didn’t see a car.”

“Oh, I just...dropped in.” Adelyn gestured randomly, using the
misdirection of her hand to pull a bit of the swirling mist around them to cloud
his mind.

“Just dropped in,” Josh echoed obediently. A fleeting note of
disbelief canted his tone upward, and she cursed her lack of experience with
stubborn human males.

She needed to occupy him with other things. “Have many more
like me come here?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen a few of the Hunters’ friends when I
run stock through here. Vaile says he’s happy not to mow.”

Adelyn forced herself not to scoff. So the Hunter disguised
himself as a good neighbor by letting cows tromp through his fields?
How...worldly of him. “Where do these friends go, after they leave here?”

“Back to Hollywood, I suppose.”

The
phae
had their own holy woods,
but none of the runaways would be welcomed there. Not anymore. Was Josh hiding
more than he was saying? Out here in the world, she was uncertain of the
strength of her
musetta
power to inspire him. Maybe
she just hadn’t found the right incentive to unlock his secrets. She had to find
it and, through Josh, find the Hunter, if she wanted Raze to lift her exile.

Josh was scanning the valley—as if there was anything
interesting to see—so she used the moment to study his face.

Even the ugliest
phae
had a certain
undeniable intensity that compelled the eye. Josh had none of that. And
yet...

Maybe the simplicity of him stunned her. What sort of man
rescued a damsel in distress without expectation of...Ah. Speaking of simple.
Inspiration was about passion. And buried passion had a special power.

“Thank you for taking me.” She let her voice thrum in her
throat.

His arm, looped behind her back to hold the horse’s reins,
flexed against her shoulders. “It was nothing. I couldn’t leave you there
alone.”

She resisted the urge to huff in exasperation. She didn’t want
him thinking it was nothing; she wanted him to want payback.

To want her.

“Still, I’m imposing on you.” She gazed up into his muddy-agate
eyes. “As you said, people come to get away. Yet here I am, intruding on you
with my needs.”

A ruddy flush brightened his cheeks, highlighting a thin scar
that arrowed up his right cheekbone to a point below his clouded eye. “Vaile
would want me to watch out for you.”

Vaile would kill her, and maybe Josh too, if the Hunter
discovered her task.

She tried to stifle the thought of the deadly
phae
, but the tremble in her hand wasn’t feigned when
she reached up to lay her palm against Josh’s jaw. She let her fingertips brush
the old scar on his cheek. “I could have died there.”

He snorted. “It’s not
that
cold.”

Adelyn blinked. Raze had said Vaile would take her in because
of her helplessness.
Musetta
weren’t celebrated for
their sturdiness and survival skills, after all. But this man thought she would
have been fine. Wasn’t she obviously useless? Except for one use, of course.

He wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled her hand down to
rest in her lap. He patted her thigh with as much lustfulness as he patted
Wolly’s head. Which was to say, exactly none.

“Look.” He pointed toward the clouds. “An eagle. Headed down to
the river to fish.”

She blindly followed his pointing finger. Eagle? Fish? This is
what she inspired in him, a nature show narrative?

True, she didn’t know much about humans, but she had gleaned
enough from gossip of other
phae
who played in the
world. Humans like William who had found their way—or been tricked—into the
phaedrealii
never seemed particularly
complicated. Josh seemed simpler yet. And yet his core eluded her.

A
musetta
had to get to the
core.

“You love this place,” she said slowly.

He angled his face to track the dark spread of feathers across
the bright sky. “Why else would I be here?”

Why else? Oh, because he’d been forced there and had no other
choice. Because he was too afraid to be elsewhere. She was just hypothesizing,
of course. “Why do you love it?”

He smiled, and a dimple appeared below the scar on his cheek.
“Look around. Who wouldn’t be inspired?”

She narrowed her eyes. Was he teasing her? But he couldn’t know
she was
musetta
.

He gazed across the valley. The sun glinted on the hint of gold
stubble on his jaw. “Anyone who doesn’t love it here should just get the hell
out.” Though the words held the ring of a warning, his tone was pensive.

He was obviously not speaking to her, but to a memory. Still,
she took the words at face value. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be here. As soon
as she knew the Hunter and
sylfana
were within her
grasp, she could contact the vizier, and then she would leave Wolly and Bunco in
the dust with the speed of her departure.

Until then...

“It is magical,” she murmured. She kept her face turned upward
toward Josh.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, his gaze drifted down to her.

So close, snuggled into his chest, she saw his eyes weren’t
truly muddy, just...complicated. The sparkle of light off the melting snow
seemed to pick out each stroke of color, even the cloudy moonstone gleam that
marred his right eye lens. Under her fierce regard, the ruddy flush returned to
his cheeks. He shifted, and she felt the prod of his erection against her
hip.

Despite his commentary on the terrain and the hint of memories
that troubled him, he was not at all unaware of her.

She took advantage of his restless adjustment to nestle closer.
“It is a cold magic though. Too cold for me.”

He opened his coat and tucked her in. Pressed tight against
him, something harder dug into her hip. She wedged her hand between them to feel
the curved top. He sucked in his breath, whether at her icy fingers or sudden
familiarity, she wasn’t sure.

She traced the chunk of metal—not iron, but copper—that stood
like a shield between her and the rousing heat behind his fly. “What’s
this?”

“My belt buckle.” His voice sounded strained.

She tilted a little away from him to look down between their
bodies. “That is a mighty belt buckle.”

“Are you making fun, Miss Golden Slippers?”

“Not at all.” From her angle, she couldn’t see much, but the
ridges of carving ticked under her questing fingers. “It seems a fine
buckle.”

“It holds up my pants.” He caught her hand. “Let’s keep it that
way.”

She let him lace his fingers through hers. “You made it, didn’t
you?” The echo of his spirit reverberated in the copper. “You are a metal smith,
an artist?”

“Just a cowboy. I learned some basics to shoe the horses, do a
bit of machining when things break. The buckles...” He shrugged. “I sell a few,
enough to pay for a bale of hay here and there. People seem to like them.”

So he had a calling in him, simple though it was. He would be
more amenable to her
musetta
powers. And he might
have iron. Could she trick him into capturing the Hunter and
sylfana
? If so, she’d return to the
phaedrealii
a hero.

She bit her lip. Her
musetta
powers
had never been tried against a human on a task more critical than an ode. And
look how well
that
had turned out.

When Josh focused on her lips, she forced a smile sultry enough
to melt a crater in the snow around them, maybe through the bedrock below.
“You’ll have to show me more of your great talents.” More of what was hidden
behind the metal.

He must have heard the double meaning in her voice, because he
did not let go of her hand again.