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“In order to get home, we must first capture him and discover how it is he got here.”
“You are a Royal Seelie. If he can time travel, why can’t you?”
“Time travel was something we once were able to do. Something went wrong some years ago with the curvature, probably because somewhere along the line someone did something in the past they should not have. Now time travel eludes even the Fae. I am certain the Dark Prince did not wish to time travel but wished only to enter the Human Realm.”
“Yeah, well, here we are, so now what?” Jazz pulled a face and started pacing. What was she going to do? Her senior group would be waiting for her to guide them first thing in the morning. This would mean no tips, and she needed that extra money to see her though the summer.
“Indeed, Jazmine Decker, here we are,” he said and went into deep thought.
She waited a few moments and then nudged him to ask, “I repeat, now what?”
“We find him—Pestale, who must be responsible for this anomaly—and return him to the Dark Realm where he belongs, and hopefully we’ll find a way back to our time.”
“Hopefully? That is all you can give me? Hopefully?” Jazz was beginning to worry, really worry. She was so going to be oh so fired!
As an answer, he took her hand, and before she knew what he was doing, they did what she had heard all her life Fae did to get from one place to another in a matter of seconds: they shifted.
* * *
Once again, and this time more comfortably, she was traveling with a Royal Fae, her hand clasped in his large, strong one. Only this time, it was nothing like the black hole that had earlier swallowed, battered, and parted them. This form of travel, while momentarily disorienting to her, was over quickly, taking only a second or two, and she found his hold oddly assuaging to her frazzled nerves.
Man, she thought, this sure didn’t feel like a dream or a nightmare; it felt real.
A moment later, they stood in the middle of a busy avenue as pony carts laden with supplies, riders on horseback, and elegant coaches traveled past them. The dust drifted upwards, and she coughed. Oh, yeah, so real.
He pulled her out of the way of an oncoming carriage. Once they were both on the curbing, he stood for a moment looking around. “We are protected by the Féth Fiada. We cannot been seen by humans.”
“We—meaning, I’m invisible as well?”
“Yes, as long as you are near me.”
“How near?” She eyed him doubtfully.
He grinned, reminding her of an adorable, naughty boy. She banished this thought. “Right, okay, so now what?” she asked again.
“Now what, now what? You don’t have to keep repeating the same question. Be content that I am working on a solution to our problem.”
All at once, she realized that one of the things that seemed to travel through her mind, soothing and intriguing her, was his accent. He had an accent, one she could not quite place. Something of an Irish lilt, but something else as well. She couldn’t name it, for it was nothing familiar, but it was incredibly beautiful. And his voice was masculine and full of confidence. Absurdly, she felt safe with him, sure he would get her home.
Lost in these thoughts, she jumped when his voice echoed loudly in her ear.
“Aha! His scent is fresh!” he pronounced with a sneer. “We have tracked him to earth.”
She looked in the direction his strong chin pointed and saw a lovely Tudor-styled inn at the edge of town. “Tracked him to earth? You make it sound as though he is an animal.”
“His actions have made him little else,” replied Trevor on a hard note. Then she felt herself pulled speedily along, felt that same ‘shifting’ rush, before finding herself standing on level ground, this time in front of the inn. She looked his way and stared wide-eyed as he sniffed the air.
He was sniffing the air. Like, holy cow, so her mother had been right. They did use sense of smell to track. She knew they were capable of incredible feats of tracking, but she couldn’t believe it was through sense of smell. So, then, he was tracking this horrible Dark Prince? She swallowed. This meant they would soon come face to face with him. Uh-oh, that was fine for him … Royal Fae, there. Mere mortal, here.
She then studied the ring of tattoos on his huge bicep, and as she looked him up and down, she admitted once again to herself that in spite of his arrogance, he was one fine-looking male! Oh, was he ever. She frowned, silently berating herself for giving in even for a moment to such a thought.
A puzzled expression took over his face, and he said, “You frown a great deal, Jazmine Decker.”
“I have good reason,” she answered, still frowning.
He laughed, and she discovered that his smile was absolutely mesmerizing, as was the sound of his laughter. How could he be so coldly overbearing one moment and so incredibly sexy-boyish the next?
She said, “Look, I have to find a way to get back. I have people in our time waiting for me, depending on me—what will they think? I have a job to do, and, well, how will I ever explain this?”
