by N. M. Howell
Fractured Magic
The Shadow Portal: Book One
Eric Turowski
N.M. Howell
Dungeon Media Corp.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.
Copyright © 2019 Dungeon Media Corp.
All rights reserved.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About Eric Turowski
About N.M. Howell
Also By N.M. Howell
Newsletter
1
Raina’s muscles tensed with every mile as the commuter train neared the city. It grew around her, above her, a vast geometric wilderness that both soared skyward and hemmed in. She gazed out the window, bleak gray sky, granite, concrete, until her eyes caught a bright symbol enlarging as she was moved closer.
Red and glowing, a glyph took up almost the entire space of a bill board. Her guts clenched. The Dark Fae symbol read: Kill the Light. Beneath, in several human languages was the conversely translated legend: Solidarity. The passenger cars went dark as the ground swallowed them up. Raina now stared at her reflection. Big sunglasses, baggy hoodie, face covered with so much foundation it looked like a mask.
But a mask was what she needed.
Squealing and hissing, the train slowed to a stop in the bowels of Penn Station. Raina disembarked, fingers instinctively tugging on her right sleeve as she scanned the busy space around her. She considered heading out of the catacombs of the rail station, onto the street, and hailing a cab. It was still a long way to Chinatown, but the subway fee was only three dollars. Five years ago, it wouldn’t have been a consideration, but now?
Penn Station was a low-ceilinged bunker compared to the soaring spaces of Grand Central Terminal. But that was too close to the park, too close to the ruins of the portal. Raina couldn’t face seeing it. Not yet. She headed for 34th Street and the southbound A Train—just like any other New Yorker. While she felt eyes on her, quick glances showed that no one paid attention to the tiny, slender girl in the black hoodie and cargo pants. The three-inch heeled boots added some height, making her appear closer to human. She hoped, at least.
Warm air rushed down the tunnel, a harbinger of the approaching train. A strand of hair blew out from beneath her hood. Like all of her kind, her hair was transparent. Before the destruction of the portal, it had been a cascade of platinum and gold, reflecting surrounding colors, and the warm glow that once emanated from her skin. It took a lot of work to dye. At least she didn’t have to work hard to conceal her ears. She’d lost her kind’s ability to control their appearance the second the portal fell, the small points rounding to their human versions permanently. It was a weird trait among the Light Fae, and she never understood where in their history that ability came from. Not that it mattered, seeing as she’d lost that magic now, too. She traced her finger along her rounded ear and along the coarse strand of hair. In the speeding windows of the train, the swirling strand now resembled, and felt like, burned hay.
Raina shivered as humans closed around her, awaiting the subway, hands clenching, shifting her weight. She felt she might get swept up in the throng as she might by a strong wave. Even in the crush, she felt so alone.
Was this the way humans felt all the time?
The A Train stopped, passengers poised behind the doors ready to lung forward as if part of some endless race Raina never understood. Humans were always in such a rush. Though, standing there with muscles tense and mind tenser, she couldn’t blame them. She, too, was in a hurry to move.
Raina caught another reflection, and her breath froze in her lungs. A man in a transit police uniform stood behind her. No, not a man. His eyes and hair were pitch black, his complexion the colors of a bruise. Dark Fae.
Ice crept up her spine, and she suppressed a shudder as best she could. Unbidden, her left hand clutched her right forearm. Raina sought a tingle, a pulse. Five years before, she’d been branded with a glyph of service when she’d accepted the position of chief spokesfae of Human-Fae media relations. It was a condition of the five-year contract. A mark of her position, but also a mark of protection. In the event that anything should have happened to her, that glyph would lead help right to her.
Since the attack, however, it’s been a mark of imprisonment. A target she’d spent the past five years trying to hide.
Fortunately, the five years were up, and she was no longer bound to the brand.
Still, she worried. Were the Dark Fae tracking her even after the glowing magic of the symbols had faded from her skin? The mark was still there, though faded and mundane—nothing more than a tattoo. Though, still a tattoo that would give her away should anyone recognize it. Again, she tugged on the sleeve of her hoodie to ensure it fully covered. It had taken some time to get used to wearing such a thing. Her Light Fae magic once kept her warm, and she loved the airy, flowing fashions of her kind. But with her magic fading, she found she had grown cold and needed both its warmth and protection.
Those sleeves had become both a comfort and a prison.
Closing her eyes, she held her breath and extended what remained of her magical awareness outward, pausing a long moment around the aura of the Dark Fae. She felt nothing and released the burning air from her lungs.
In the rush of passengers on and off the train, she lost sight of him. Like the wave she feared, she was practically forced onto the subway train. Gathering her wits, she found a seat on the side opposite the door, staring out the windows for a sign of the uniformed Fae. Passengers all took their seats around her, and she had a clear view through the glass. The subway wasn’t crowded at this hour.
The train didn’t move.
Her eyes swept the departing passengers, the ones lingering, the old man who shuffled between garbage cans for recyclables. The Dark Fae had been wearing a transit uniform. Had he stopped the train? Were they coming for her?
That icy chill returned to her spine. This time she shivered.
With a gasp and a groan, the subway lurched and clattered down the tracks. Raina released her grip on the metal pole she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, calming her breath as best she could. Still, she scanned the platform, even as the train picked up speed. Finally, they were swallowed by the tunnel.
Raina pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them as the momentum of the train built. The hum of the train eased her somewhat, but her relief was short-lived.
Acr
oss from her, an advertisement above the window caught her eye. An acidic surge roiled her insides. The photo depicted the ruins of the portal to the Light Fae realm, humans gathered around the cyclopean structure with cameras, smiling and pointing. Visit the University and Museum of Fae Metaphysics, the ad read. A phone number and web site ran along the bottom in a bold garish red font.
Raina’s heart froze.
Her eyes lingered on the text. The red was intentional. Personal. As if each letter had been painted with the blood of her people.
It brought it all back to her in vivid detail. Five years ago today, Raina’s greatest triumph had been followed by her greatest terror. On the night following her promotion and appointment to the position she’d dreamed about for years, the Dark Fae had attacked, destroying the only connection to her realm, her race… Her family. She herself had been violently confronted and forced to flee the city.
Raina hadn’t thought things could have gotten any worse. But now, staring up at the advertisement, she realized there’s always more salt to rub in a wound.
They destroyed her people’s link to this world. And they made it some kind of sick tourist attraction.
Stunned, she couldn’t stop staring. The glyphs carved into the risers were now chipped and marred. The beautify ivy that once held the graceful architecture of the structure behind the portal now threatened to pull it apart. She gaped at the fallen pillars, the crumbled spires. A broad banner hung from the ruined building, bearing the same glyph she’d seen on the billboard.
Kill the Light.
Finally, she was able to tear her eyes away. The path to her home, the conduit of her magic, was now marred by Dark Fae mockery and violence. Raina fought down nausea. She didn’t know if the realm had been destroyed along with the portal, if her family yet lived. Her jaw trembled, and her eyes prickled.
No.
She drew a steadying breath. Raina hadn’t returned to the site of the devastation to lose it on the A Train. When word of what the enemy Fae had done reached her, Raina knew she would have to someday visit their so-called University of Fae Metaphysics. She knew that was where she would find answers. And being built right on the grounds of her portal, she knew there was no other way. She needed to reconnect with the Light Realm and replenish her magic. When the portal had fallen, she’d been cut off. The loss was indescribable, akin to losing her sight or hearing or her right hand, but so much more. With so little magic left in her, she wondered how much longer she would live.
A couple across from her gestured at the ad, and Raina listened in. Even if her magic was practically nil, her hearing was much keener than any human’s.
“We should see it while we’re here. Such a tragedy.” The woman, blonde and chubby, spoke to her balding brown hair and spectacled husband.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have much sympathy for the Bright Fae. They always had some kind of secret, separatist agenda, you know? At least the Shadow Fae have opened up about who they are. Let the world know what they’re about, how they operate. Still, I’m not paying a few hundred bucks for some magic classes.”
“I think the terrorist attack probably changed their attitude. If the Bright Fae could be taken out, so could the Dark Fae. They probably need solidarity more than people do,” the woman said.
The bald man made a doubtful face. “Well, it’s certainly human nature to want to gather friends and allies close when you’ve been attacked. But is it Fae nature? Who can say?”
“I always thought that spokeswoman, the Fae princess, was so beautiful. I wonder what happened to her?”
“Oh, God, seriously?” The man’s brows rose above his glasses. “That vacuous party girl? You’d think the Fae would want to be represented by someone a little more thoughtful, more serious and intelligent. Instead, they gave us a pretty face.”
Raina’s pretty face heated up. What was going on here? The two were talking like the Dark Fae were the victims, not the aggressors. And who was this human jerk to say how serious or intelligent she was? She restrained herself from getting up and giving them a piece of her mind. Raina was in the city covertly.
Once again, she reminded herself she hadn’t returned to Manhattan to lose it on the A Train.
At each stop, she tensed, eyes swarming over people waiting on the platform. She saw no more Dark Fae. Not a soul paid attention to her. Of course, in New York City, she could’ve driven a chariot drawn by unicorns and not garner a second glance. Though, best to avoid any unnecessary attention if she could help it. The last thing she needed was to be seen, let alone recognized. Ducking her head down, she did what she could to blend in with the rest of the faceless crowd around her, eyes pinned to their phones as if the world wasn’t passing by around them.
Raina changed trains at Washington Square Park, only waiting a few minutes for the D Train toward City Hall. Though her eyes were everywhere, no one seemed interested in the slight girl in black. She walked among the humans to the platform and boarded the train.
At Chrystie and Grand streets, she emerged into the gloomy, windswept day. The air chilled her skin, but she hardly felt it. Her mind was on fire and her skin had grown numb. So far, she’d been in the city for less than twenty minutes, but even that was enough to set her teeth on edge.
She turned to find the sway-back roofs of Chinatown in the near distance. Joining the pedestrians, she made her way toward her destination. Maintaining anonymity in the greatest city in the world proved no problem. Her magic was virtually non-existent, her skin had no glow. She felt powerless, anxious, alone. That was probably why she didn’t stand out.
Raina had practically become human.
2
From the subway station, she walked a block east and made a left down Bowery into Manhattan Chinatown proper. Everyone moved in a rush, the motion of vehicles and pedestrians an odd dance.
Five years.
Still, the map of lower Manhattan in her brain proved accurate. Putting Confucius Center at her back, she moved along Baynard Street toward Columbus Park.
Casting eyes over her shoulder, she wound her way around the blocks, checking for pursuit. Unable to detect a shadow, Raina pressed on. Eyes down toward the sidewalk, she turned a corner and collided head on with a man carrying a tray of coffees. Hot liquid spilled down the front of her as she jolted back, emitting a yelp. A myriad of curses and apologies both spilled from the mans lips, but Raina brushed him off with a wave and kept her head low as she stepped around him, despite his protests to help clean her up. The last thing she needed was someone fussing over her. Shivering under the now-cold soggy fabric that clung to her chest, she kept her eyes in front of her as she quickened her pace toward her destination.
Kowloon Grocery sat in the middle of the block. Other shopfronts crowded the store, bright awnings in golds and reds dominating. From an alley, the smell of fishy garbage drifted on a chill, damp breeze, mingling with the pungent diesel exhaust from an idling truck and the scent of frying meat. It brought back memories, and even more so, brought home the fact that she was back in New York.
The old tenement rose seven stories above the street-level shops wearing a fire escape like a green exoskeleton. Derek had found an apartment for her above the grocery.
Derek.
Some time ago, the two had dated. Raina couldn’t take it seriously. Derek Wing came off as a Glow-Getter, a human attracted to the Light Fae. When Raina constantly found Derek flirting with others of her race, she figured him for a groupie and ended the relationship. The two still remained friends, and it was Derek who Raina reached out to. While she didn’t feel a romantic inclination toward him, he was one of the few humans she fully trusted. Perhaps the only one she trusted. She’d known him most of his life.
Steeling herself, she walked past the fruit and vegetable carts flanking the front door and into the busy market. Various plucked foul hung just inside next to murky tanks filled with flopping sea life. Not that there was much lift left to them, with no room to move
or breathe or swim away to their freedom. Her eyes lingered on a half belly-up gasping fish, an ache of sympathy clenching her gut at the sight of the creature suffocating in his glass prison.
Raina breathed out a controlled breath before turning away. She could relate.
Produce boxes lined the shelves and floor space making the narrow aisles claustrophobic. Jars of unidentifiable matter gave off an astringent odor. Part of the store was dedicated to import gifts: dolls in traditional Chinese dress, flimsy slippers, incense and candles, ubiquitous Statues of Liberty and Empire State Buildings, and racks of souvenir T-shirts. All of the store was packed, and Raina had to elbow her way toward the line at the checkout by the prepared food counter. She kept her head down as best she could.
Lee Wing stood at the register, shouting out commands in Cantonese. His eyes roved over her several times, not pausing. Raina’s family had been friends with the Wings for decades. He had been part of a delegation, one of the first human groups to reach out to the Fae. She always imagined Lee Wing was some kind of wealthy businessman or envoy to the U.S. Calm and always collected, he was well groomed and handsome, in an older, distinguished sort of way. He was someone who gave an air of sophistication and wealth, as if his very aura belonged on Wall Street.
It was strange to see him running a grocery store in Manhattan’s chaotic Chinatown.
“Help you?” he asked in slightly accented English.