“What are these?” I asked, pointing to a pair of handcuffs that were giving off a faint blue glow.
Sawyer appeared at my side. “Warded handcuffs that automatically adjust their size. They’re designed to hold any supernatural creature, with the exception of gremlins.”
I tried not to let that comment stun me, but color me stunned. “Say what now? Gremlins? Like the nasty green wart-ridden things in the movie?”
His mouth quirked up again, just a little. “Kind of. Just imagine them one hundred times bigger.”
Holy shit. Gremlins were real?
“They’re a kind of fae that doesn’t usually leave Wonderland.”
“Comforting. Really,” I deadpanned. “What the fuck else is out there that I don’t know about?”
He shrugged, and I admired the way his muscular shoulders moved under his shirt. So sue me. He had a fucking fantastic body. “Every book that’s been written about the fae and creatures that go bump in the night is real. All of it.”
I felt like the rug hadn’t just been pulled out from under me, but lit on fire too. Every single creature was real? I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or lock myself into a bomb shelter and rock myself in the corner.
Sawyer plucked the cuffs from the case and handed them to me. “These are safe to touch. Carry them with you all the time.”
“Got it.” I secured the cuffs onto my weapons belt and tried not to get the heebies. “What else have you got for me?”
“What else would you need?”
I glanced around the room. “I don’t know. What are those?” I pointed to what looked like a mace, only it didn’t look like the traditional mace. It looked like hypodermic needles had replaced the spikes, and the chain that connected the fun pointy ball thing to the handle was thin, like a cheap link chain you bought at the costume jewelry store.
“It’s called an urticate. It’s for slowing down shifters should they lose control.” Sawyer moved over to the weapon and carefully picked it up by the chain. “Each needle contains a strong dose of ketamine, which will bring down a shifter in just a few seconds.”
“Is it heavy? Why is that chain so thin?”
“It might be thin, but it’s strong. The elves made it.”
I held my hands out in front of me. “Stop. Just stop. Elves are real?” What rock had I been fucking living under my entire life?
“Of course, they are. Who do you think makes all these things?”
“I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss.”
“You know what? When it comes to you, I believe that.”
I shot him the finger, then pointed at what looked like a fishing net. “What does that thing do?”
“It holds merpeople without rubbing off any of their scales.”
“And rubbing off the scales of merpeople is bad because…?”
“Because they die,” Sawyer finished for me, using that same tone.
“Huh. Merpeople. Where do they all live? In the ocean?”
“Some. Some live in lakes.”
“Swimming pools?”
“Only if you’re unlucky and a water sprite has cursed you.”
“What the fuck, dude? Seriously?” He couldn’t have been telling me the truth there. It was too weird.
“Nah, there’s no such thing as water sprites.”
“No water sprites, but merpeople. Got it.” I pretended to jot that information down into my invisible notebook. Remember that rug I told you about? The one that was no longer under my feet and a flaming remnant of all my beliefs? Yeah, that was all ash now.
Fuck me.
I felt so small.
Shaking myself, I asked, “Can I have a cool weapon? Please?”
“Cool?”
Man, that word sounded weird coming out of his mouth. It made him seem like he was a lot older than he looked. “Yeah, you know, something that can slice a man in two if I want it to.”
He laughed, the sound deep and weak-knee-inducing sexy. “Why would I give you a weapon? You’re dangerous enough on your own.”
“See, here’s the thing, I’m human,” I said slowly. “H-U-M-A-N. I don’t have super strength or invincibility. I’m fragile, and if I’m going to be going out in the field where other things are stronger than I am, I want something to protect myself with, since clearly, a standard-issue sidearm is not going to cut it.”
He pursed his lips. “Perhaps I can find something for you.” He perused the racks, stopping in front of a broad sword.
“Ah, I can’t carry that,” I told him, eyeing the weapon.
“I can assure you, you can.” He picked it up. Damn, he made that look easy. “It adjusts to the strength of whoever wields it. So for me, since I’m strong, it’s a little heavier, but still perfectly balanced for me to wield and be deadly.” His gaze shifted to me. “But since you’re a little shorter, a little weaker—”
“Hey! I object to the short comment.”
He gave me a smug smile. “The truth hurts sometimes.”
I flipped him off again. Twice in ten minutes? We were going to be best friends.
“In any case, the sword will adjust to whoever is holding it.” Flipping it around, he cradled the blade in his hand carefully and presented me with the handle. Like he was a goddamn king or something. I snorted. What a douche.
Licking my lips, I took the handle in my hand and felt it settle into my palm like a cat cozying up to its owner. I braced my muscles for the weight, but even as I picked it up, I overcompensated and stumbled back a step. Holy shit. It was so light.
I turned the blade over in my hands, studying the steel…or at least, I thought it was steel. It could have been some funky composite material I’d never heard of before, which was probably accurate.
“Its name is Reaver.”
“Why does it have a name?”
Sawyer leaned his hip against a small table off to one side. “Names have power in our world.”
“Oh?”
“For example, a fae will never
