Dryad’s Treasure (Magical Usage Council Misadventures #2)

Chapter 1

One

Grayson

I’d always thought calling the home of the Magical Usage Council a compound was presumptuous.

I figured it was a figure of speech, something to make them feel more important than they truly were.

False self-grandeur seemed to be a trait nearly every species was versed in.

Brownies might be the exception. I’d throw fairies into that group except their self-aggrandizing wasn’t false. They had the oomph to back it up.

In this case, calling the building a compound wasn’t a lie.

It wasn’t even stretching the truth. This mostly underground maze was much larger than its unassuming topside presence led one to believe.

Had I seen all the twisty tunnels, branching rooms, and hidden hidey-holes?

No. As a will-o’-the-wisp, I had other ways of seeing that had nothing to do with eyesight.

I could feel the breadth of the space. What I could also feel was greed, malice, and ill intent.

Overriding all those feelings was the strong desire for secrecy.

Keir was right. There were secrets hidden within and beyond these walls. Lots of secrets.

And secrets were the most unassuming sort of treasure. It wasn’t a type of treasure one could always physically see or touch, but that didn’t make secrets less valuable. Just the opposite.

Cool, blue flames licked up my wrists, dancing along my fingertips.

Head tilted back, I closed my eyes and allowed my body to simply feel.

Treasure sang. Most couldn’t hear its song.

I wasn’t most. I was a will-o’-the-wisp, and I heard every melodic note.

Only this wasn’t so much a melody as a discordant mishmash.

Fisting my fingers, I doused my flame, blessedly drowning out the painful sound.

I’d never been so inundated by so many differing songs.

They screamed, fighting for attention. Their cadences weren’t harmonious but violently clashed.

I’d been in areas with a lot of treasure before and never experienced anything like this.

I was surprised when Keir contacted me. Will-o’-the-wisps don’t have the most favorable reputations.

I didn’t begrudge that reputation. It was, after all, well-earned.

We were not altruistic creatures. Many of us were downright cruel.

While I didn’t revel in deceptive games as much as most of my kin, I would never classify myself as kind.

At best, I was neutral. I had little care for what happened to others and felt no compunction to change that fact.

As the saying went, I was what I was, and that suited me just fine.

What I did enjoy, what lit me up from the inside and intrigued me, was the chase—the mystery of hidden treasure.

Every hidden treasure had a reason behind its placement.

Often, that reason was greed. Sometimes, it was something more noble.

Properly hiding something wasn’t easy. Keeping secrets took time, energy, and occasionally an emotional toll on the one committing the subterfuge.

And then there were those who hid things out of spite. Those were often the most curious—to me at least. I had a cousin who practically salivated when she found the spiteful ones. She said it was a high like no other.

I didn’t get that same high, but I understood what she meant.

Finding treasure, feeling the intentions behind its concealment—that was my catnip.

It was every will-o’-the-wisp’s catnip. It was our driving force, it was why we crawled out of bed, it was what we lived for, what made living more than mere existence alone.

It was why I’d agreed to Keir’s proposal.

The gryphon piqued my curiosity. First blush didn’t necessarily disappoint.

What it did do was give me pause. There was soooo much here.

Possibly too much. It was going to be difficult deciphering and separating the different songs.

Pinpointing a particular treasure wouldn’t be easy and I had a feeling much of what I was hearing had nothing to do with the late director, Tenzen Huxley.

This was, after all, the Magical Usage Council.

They employed several individuals from a variety of different species.

It stood to reason many of them had their own secrets—their own form of treasure.

Those songs were bound to compete with the treasure Keir wanted me to find.

I was going to uncover more than he wanted, more than those working and living here were comfortable with.

I probably wouldn’t make any friends here.

In fact, I imagined I would be ostracized by the time I was done.

Not that I wasn’t used to the feeling. Will-o’-the-wisps weren’t known to have a lot of friends.

Clasped hands resting on my lower back, I paced the room I’d been left in. I had to admit, I’d never been greeted by a ghost before. I’d heard the council had capable mediums on staff. That was one bit of gossip I could now verify.

A grin lifted my lips as I remembered Elvira’s greeting.

She was a saucy minx of a ghost, and I wondered what she’d been like while alive.

I wasn’t a medium and thank fuck I wasn’t a necromancer.

The very thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I’d found deceased treasure before—the dead buried, their demise and location the treasured secret that their murderer kept hidden.

I might find them, but I sure as shit didn’t bring them back.

My fingers unclenched, tapping out a rhythm along my jean-clad legs.

I’d worn my best pair, along with an acceptable pair of black work boots and a navy, long-sleeved cotton shirt.

The deep navy brought out the blue undertones of my silver hair and eyes.

I had a couple of relatives whose physical attributes mirrored their natural orange-and-red flame.

Those relatives ran hot. I ran cool, and my body and personality reflected that.

My flame wanted to flare back to life. This place was a hotbed, calling out to my natural ability.

Part of me wanted to succumb to the call, to revert to little more than blue flame, guided through lengths of corridors as I followed that siren song.

But I’d already tapped into that music, and it was far too disjointed to indulge my nature.

I’d be hopelessly lost within seconds, and I didn’t just mean physically lost. The conflicting songs threatened my sanity.

If I accepted this job, I’d need to be very careful.

While it seemed like an age had passed, I’d probably only been left alone for a few minutes when a massive door to my right opened.

It sounded heavy—like a steel bomb shelter door giving way.

A whoosh of cooler air filled the room ahead of a large humanoid figure.

Gryphons were typically broad and intimidating, even in their humanoid form.

If I hadn’t already known it was Keir, the muted, multicolored hair and amber eyes would have given it away.

The equally tall and solidly built individual following Keir in was a different matter. Him, I didn’t know.

“Grayson Delarue?”

“In the flesh.” I offered a cheeky grin while extending my arm, meeting Keir’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you for coming. I’m Keir, acting director of the Magical Usage Council.”

Acting. I didn’t miss that added tagline.

“And who is this?” I asked, gaze shifting toward the broad male flanking Keir.

He wasn’t a classic beauty, more handsome than pretty.

The word sturdy came to mind and I couldn’t shake it.

Moving his head exposed a litany of varied shades of brown hair.

Those shades were reflected in his eyes.

“This is Martin, my assistant and right hand,” Keir fondly answered drawing a faint pink flush to Martin’s light brown skin. Color me intrigued.

“And what, exactly, are you, Martin?” Some considered such questions rude. I didn’t, but then again, my bar was probably a little different than most others.

Martin stiffened. I’d expected a deep voice. I hadn’t anticipated how melodic it would sound. “I’m an oak dryad.”

Oh, that made so much sense. It was also a little disappointing.

“Dryad, huh?” My budding attraction faded.

Dryads didn’t think much of will-o’-the-wisps.

They typically chased us off their territory.

Treasure was often buried near trees. Those trees were rarely dryads, but dryads did have a special connection to their woody brethren and took offense to anyone disturbing that peace.

Especially when tree roots and sometimes the entire tree was sacrificed digging up said treasure.

Martin’s thick lips pulled into something just shy of a sneer, as if he wanted to complete the action but his manners got the better of him. It was a valiant effort. An effort I felt compelled to poke at.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try and talk Keir out of contacting me.” I shifted my weight, throwing out a hip and resting my fisted hand there while I casually examined the light blue fingernails of my opposite hand.

“Had I known what Keir intended, you can be assured I would have. As it was, I did not find out about his plans until after you’d been contacted and were already on your way.”

“Martin.” Keir’s low, chastising voice filled the room. “Mr. Delarue is an invited guest.”

Martin’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Apologies, Keir. I will attempt to contain my…misgivings.”

Oh, that so wasn’t what Martin wanted to say. I genuinely grinned. This job was looking increasingly interesting by the second. While I wanted to play with Martin a little more, I needed to get down to business. Turning my attention to Keir, I said, “You’ve got an interesting bit of a mess here.”

Keir’s shoulders rose, stiffening his slightly slumped back. I could see it now, just how exhausted this gryphon was. It took more energy than it should to concentrate on me. “Could you elaborate?”

I shrugged. “I could. Maybe.”

“Typical,” Martin huffed, clearly ignoring Keir’s request to be civil. “Will-o’-the-wisps live to be cryptic.”

The dryad wasn’t exactly wrong. “I won’t argue that.” Martin seemed taken aback at my admission. “But in this case, it’s not so much that I’m trying to be cryptic as I’m not exactly certain what’s here, only that there’s a lot.”

“How much is a lot?” Keir asked.

I hummed while tapping a finger along my chin. “Well,” I drawled, “let’s just say it’ll take a while.”

“That didn’t clear up anything,” Martin protested.

“It wasn’t meant to,” I answered. “I don’t know how long. A week, two…months…possibly a year or more.” I shrugged again. “It’s hard to tell. It will take as long as it takes. Take it or leave it.”

I could see the protest on Martin’s lips. Those protests died a quick death when Keir answered, “We’ll take it. When can you start?”