Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1) (4 page)

Giving up on my appearance, I towelled myself off and wandered through to my bedroom, pulling on a comfy pair of worn pyjamas before lying down on my bed and closing my eyes. I was dog tired and should, by rights, have fallen asleep within seconds.

My brain, unfortunately, had other plans. No matter how hard I tried to turn off my thoughts, my worry about Taylor wouldn’t let me rest. I ran through scenario after scenario. There had to be a way to help him out so that this kind of situation never arose again. I gnawed over the problem for three-quarters of an hour when, still wide awake, I got up again. Maybe some hot cocoa would work. Unfortunately I’d forgotten about my discarded jumpsuit and, while rubbing my eyes, I didn’t see it. My foot caught up in one of the sleeves and I went flying, sprawling on the floor in an ungainly heap.

‘Bollocks,’ I swore, picking myself back up again. I could scale buildings, abseil down mountains, perform feats of extraordinary acrobatic skill – but when it came to walking along a small corridor, I failed. My only saving grace was that I lived alone so no-one else had witnessed my clumsy collapse.

I turned round and eyed the offending clothing then scooped it up, heading towards the kitchen and the noisy old washing machine. It had a nasty habit of juddering its way across the floor in a thunderous motion which sounded more like a volcanic eruption than a mere spin cycle. I’d been meaning to replace it for years but it was low on my list of priorities. Now I was leaving it didn’t seem to matter although it was hardly likely to induce sleep. But right now it didn’t appear that the land of nod was anywhere on the horizon. The least I could do was get the last of my chores out of the way. It would make packing easier.

I patted down the pockets and pulled out a few errant sweet wrappers, a plastic Hello Kitty pinky ring that I’d completely forgotten I owned and which made me smile, and the letter opener I’d taken from the office. I threw the jumpsuit, along with my last remaining dirty items of clothing, and turned the machine on, then stared at the small knife. The handle was rather remarkable. My finger traced along its ornate carvings. Here in the light of day, it seemed much less elegant and graceful than it had in the dim office. There was something about it that drew me to it. Goodness knows why. It wasn’t even pink.

‘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.

‘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.

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?’

‘The others left not long after you. I went out to get a pint of milk and saw the muscle on the way back.’

I was momentarily confused. ‘The muscle?’

‘The Wild Man I was telling you about. The Incredible Hulk with the scar. He kicked in my door.’ Taylor grimaced. ‘He means serious business. If I’d not popped out then…’ He swallowed, his voice trailing off. This was a different Taylor to the one I was used to. He was definitely scared.

‘He wants the money and he’s not prepared to wait,’ I surmised.

‘That has to be it.’ He scratched his neck and look at me helplessly. ‘What do I do?’

I took his arm and guided him gently in the kitchen, sat him down and put on the kettle. ‘It’s fine, Taylor. Give me the name of the courier service and I’ll get the money wired over immediately. Once your creditor has that I’m sure he’ll call off his attack dog.’

‘Yes.’ Taylor’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. ‘You’re right. That’ll work. The money is all they want.’ He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. His hands shook.

I raised my eyebrows. I’d expect this kind of reaction from Speck but Taylor was normally laid back to the point of being horizontal. He was the very definition of blasé. Whoever this scarred Wild Man was, he had Taylor seriously rattled.

‘Integrity, he was carrying a gun. And I’m certain he meant to use it.’

That troubled me. From the very beginning Taylor taught me that, no matter what we did, violence was not our gig. We didn’t carry anything on any job that could be construed as a weapon: we were thieves, not thugs. It was a concept I stringently adhered to. There was always an alternative to fighting, even if it meant doing nothing more than running away. We usually avoided getting mixed up with people who were liable to be violent. Taylor really had got involved with some dodgy people this time.

I smoothed out the paper and looked at the phone number scrawled on it. I cleared my throat and tried to stay calm. ‘I’ll call them now and tell them they’ll have their money within hours. Relax, Taylor.’

He pressed his lips together and nodded while I searched for my phone. Eventually finding it behind a wilting spider plant, I jabbed out the number. It rang three times before a disembodied voice answered, ‘Yes?’

I took a deep breath. ‘I’m calling on behalf of Andy Taylor,’ I said. ‘I have your money and I will send it to you now. You’ll get what you want so there’s no need to get all worked up.’

There was an almost imperceptible pause. Then the voice spoke again. ‘The payment is late. There is a penalty.’

My fingers tightened around the phone. Loan sharks had no damn shame. ‘How much?’

‘Double the original amount.’

I choked. ‘That’s ridiculous! He’s not that late.’

‘I take punctuality very seriously. Double the amount or a he’s a dead man walking.’

‘You’re being unreasonable,’ I began.

‘He owes me.’

I tried to think quickly. ‘We’ll need more time.’

‘You have seventy-two hours.’

I closed my eyes briefly. ‘Thank...’

‘Oh, and Integrity?’ the voice interrupted. ‘Tell Taylor that if he tries to run I’ll personally make sure that he never walks again.’

The phone clicked off. I pulled it slowly away from my ear and stared at it. ‘He knows my name,’ I whispered. I looked at Taylor. ‘Just who in hell have you got yourself mixed up with?’

He glanced up at me, misery etched into every line of his face. ‘I’m so sorry, Tegs. I’ve really screwed up.’

*

We went round and round in circles, trying to come up with a quick-fix solution.

‘Perhaps I can ask around,’ Taylor said heavily. His shoulders were slumped. ‘Get a bit of money from someone else. Borrow from Peter to pay Paul, so to speak.’

Normally I’d counsel against creating debt to pay off debt but this situation felt very dangerous. I was pretty certain that neither Brochan, Lexie nor Speck would be keen to help. As much as they professed loyalty and had agreed to delay their own payment for last night’s failed heist, Taylor would burn every bridge he had if he borrowed money from them. He couldn’t afford to alienate them, not if he wanted a chance of turning a profit in the future; the fastest way to lose friends or colleagues is to mess things up financially.

Discarding them as potential lenders, I considered. ‘Who could you ask?’

‘There’s Boon.’

I sucked in a breath. Boon was a distinctly sinister moneylender. Much like everyone else in my little underworld, he was Clan-less. That didn’t mean he wasn’t scary. I’d heard stories about what happened to borrowers who defaulted on his loans and, unless Taylor was keen to have a section of his soul cut away, it wasn’t much of an option. ‘I don’t think…’ I began.

‘Who else is there?’ Taylor asked. ‘As long as I keep up the repayments, Boon won’t create problems.’ His face shadowed. ‘I’ve taken money from him before.’

I stiffened. ‘When?’

‘Before you.’

I studied his expression. How had he gone from being so bright and confident the day before the bank job to so desperate now? ‘There must be another way.’

‘Can you think of anything?’

My gaze fell on the sheet of paper on top of the letter opener. There was always Bob. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. Was it merely a coincidence that I’d come across the genie now – when desperation might lead to me using him? I nibbled my lip and decided his appearance was too far-fetched to be anything more than serendipity. Serendipity that I’d be a fool to make use of. Going down the wishing road could cause more problems than it solved.

I held off making a decision for now. It wasn’t like the genie was going anywhere. ‘It won’t do any harm to ask Boon for terms,’ I said finally. ‘Don’t commit yourself to anything. Just see what he says.’

Relieved to have something to do, Taylor nodded. I passed him my phone, then gave him some privacy to speak. In the bathroom I splashed cold water on my face, then leaned against the sink and pressed my forehead against the cool mirror. If only the damn Lia Saifir had been where it was supposed to be, we wouldn’t be in this mess. So much for my big move to Oban. I couldn’t leave until things were straight with Taylor. I owed him too much.

When I went back to check on him, he was even paler than before ‒ if that were possible. ‘Let me guess,’ I said drily, ‘the terms are too steep?’ I wasn’t particularly surprised. Boon was a bloody charlatan.

Taylor shook his head slowly. ‘He won’t do it,’ he croaked.

I blinked. I hadn’t been expecting that. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He won’t give me the loan. He said he knows who’s bought it and he doesn’t want to piss them off. I got the impression they’d already been in touch with him. He refused point blank to tell me who it was.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense.’ I sank down into my chair. Except it did. This wasn’t about money at all; this was about someone wanting to destroy Taylor. No wonder they knew my name. ‘Who is it? Who really took the loan?’

He looked me in the eye. ‘I don’t know. I was telling the truth, Tegs. I really don’t know.’

‘You must have pissed off someone.’

‘Not that I can think of. The last time I really did that was before you came along. I’ve been keeping my nose clean.’

Other than arranging for a series of high-profile thefts, I thought. Apparently reading my mind, Taylor sighed. ‘You know what I mean. I’ve not upset anyone in the underworld.’

‘Could it be someone we’ve stolen from in the past? Someone wanting serious revenge?’

A spark flared in his eyes. ‘I might not be much of a gambler, Tegs, but I am good at my job. No one knows who we are.’

I had no idea what we were going to do. ‘Okay,’ I said. I’d have to make this up as I went along. ‘This is what we’re going to do. Um…’

There was a sudden thump at the front door that made us both jump. I looked at Taylor. ‘Stay there,’ I told him, every muscle in my body tensing up.

It was nothing more than the morning paper. I cursed myself for being as jumpy as a kitten and picked it up. ‘It’s alright,’ I called out to Taylor, picking it up from the doormat. ‘It’s just the newspaper.’ I tossed it down onto the kitchen table with the rest of the detritus.

‘I’m sorry,’ Taylor said miserably. ‘I’ve screwed everything up. Here you are trying to pack, trying to make a new life yourself and…’

‘Stop.’ I mustered my sternest look. ‘Yes, you’ve messed up. But we’ll deal with it.’

His head drooped. ‘How?’

I straightened my shoulders. Sneaky was my middle name. But when sneaky didn’t work… ‘I’ll find this courier and talk some sense into him. If we can get the name of the guy who bought the loan, we can find out what he really wants. Because I’m betting it ain’t money.’

Taylor jerked his head up in alarm. ‘The Wild Man will squash you, Integrity! This isn’t someone you want to mess with.’

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. ‘Maybe he’ll find out that I’m someone
he
doesn’t want to mess with.’

Besides, at this moment we were out of damn options.

‘I should come with you then.’

‘No. Right now you’re the target. It makes more sense for you to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to talk my way out of things if I’m alone.’

He sighed. ‘Once upon a time, it was
me
giving the orders.’

‘Once upon a time, you weren’t a decrepit old man.’ I winked. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll sort all this out.’