Hands of Fate

Fitting in has never been in the cards. Not part of the hand Fate dealt me. My superpower is animals, magical and otherwise. They adore me. Birds and insects too. Back when the Celts still roamed the Highlands, I begged them to shed light on how I came to be since my power is unique.

You can guess how well that went. They’re a taciturn, entitled lot. I didn’t shed a single tear when they packed up and left Earth.

Other mages don’t care for me. They don’t trust my one-of-a-kind magic. On my more generous days I don’t blame them. For now, I run a tiny detective agency in the Scottish Highlands. Mortals are quick to hire me because I always solve their problems. Using magic is cheating, but they’ll never find out. 

One fine afternoon, a Sidhe sought me out. His power surpassed mine by a factor of ten, so I was suspicious as hell, but he was too profanely gorgeous to turn away…

As usual, no one to blame but myself when my life skids off the rails.