by Jaxon Reed
The three bracelets established something akin to triangulation. The power within the two larger bracelets combined, bringing enough energy to make an opening back to the alternate where the smaller bracelet remained.
A rift in reality cracked open in the library, growing larger by the second. Magical energy from the alternate pushed its way into Headquarters, struggling against the narrow confines of the opening, ripping the fabric of reality into a larger hole.
A breeze from the distant alternate flowed through the crack, and along with it came the sound of a door flapping open and shut in the wind.
Slowly, inexorably, the rip widened.
The dark-haired fae stepped through first, a look of triumph spreading across his face. He reached back to help pull his partner in. He turned and pushed out one hand, palm up, and the display case’s glass shattered. The glowing wristlets floated up and over to him. He placed one on his forearm. He tossed its twin over to the blond who followed suit, donning it like armor.
The crack in reality slammed shut as suddenly as it opened, cutting off access to the alternate.
Eb appeared, popping into existence wearing his old three-piece brown suit.
“You may not—”
The dark haired fae repulsed the computer’s human form with a wave of his hand, sending Eb flying backward into the display cases. Glass shattered and objects scattered. Eb went limp and lifeless.
“I may.”
The two fae smiled at each other.
The blond one said, “Let’s go have some fun!”
The End
Read the next Fae Killers Novel: Ghost of a Chance
Available on Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07C8YTYRT/
Ghost of a Chance
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Ghost of a Chance: A Fae Killers Novel
Copyright (c) 2018 by Jaxon Reed
Formatting and editing provided by edbok.com
Cover art by Jacqueline Sweet
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Historical figures are used in fictional settings and dialogues, within a fictitious alternate universe. In all other respects, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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The Fae Killers Series
Tiff in Time
Ghost of a Chance
Rick or Treat
Booked for Death
https://www.amazon.com/Jaxon-Reed/e/B00Q9N5TQ2/
Prologue
Nancy looked up from her desk when the outer door to the office opened and closed. She had sent Marcie home at 5:00, and that was half an hour ago. But maybe Marcie forgot something, she thought. It could be somebody else, but her secretary usually locked the door on the way out.
“Marcie?”
No answer.
Nancy stood up and made her way around the desk, over to the door leading to the reception area. The calendar on the wall showed the month: October, 1943.
She wore an elegant but practical beige dress and matching flats that, while not tennis shoes, wouldn’t impede running should the need arise. Her shoulder-length dark hair had lost most of its curliness, and she desperately needed another perm. But work had kept her busy, even in wartime, and that along with all the shortages and restrictions left her little time for luxuries.
Nancy opened the door to the reception area, expecting to find Marcie or perhaps a client. The lettering on the outer door to the hallway showed through the glass, backwards from this side: “Nancy Chance, Private Investigator.”
Instead of Marcie or a client, she found a man facing away from her, riffling through the secretary’s desk. The back of his head revealed dark hair, oiled down and carefully combed in place.
“Excuse me?”
He turned, startled. He had a handsome face that reminded her of a cat’s. Sharp nose, sharp feline cheekbones. He drew his piece, a nasty looking pistol, and she instantly regretted not having hers. It was still in her purse, on the floor under her desk.
She raised her hands in compliance, but kept her composure. She made a mental note to keep her voice calm and said, “What do you want?”
He sneered at her.
“You must be the broad playing as a PI.”
“I’m Nancy Chance. Who are you?”
He smirked and said, “Dames oughta stay home and keep their noses clean.”
“There’s a war going on, in case you haven’t noticed. A lot of us ‘dames’ are working now. Answer my question. Who are you?”
He snorted, the contempt never leaving his eyes. He said, “I’m somebody looking for your file on the Duncan case. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll hand it over.”
She nodded, keeping her hands up.
“Alright. But you’re looking in the wrong place. I keep that file locked in my desk.”
She tilted her chin. His eyes wavered to the door behind her, then back. He motioned with his gun, indicating she should turn around. It was a little semi-auto, a Walther PP or FN 1910, she thought. Still, even a little one could be deadly. She walked back to her desk with the gunman close behind.
Nancy turned and sat down in her chair slowly, keeping her hands up. She said, “It’s in the bottom drawer. I’m just going to reach down and get it.”
He nodded, and shook the pistol impatiently, gesturing for her to hurry up.
She carefully opened the desk drawer, reached into her purse, and whipped out her Smith & Wesson snub nose revolver.
CrackBlam!
They fired at the same time. Nancy felt the bullet lodge in her shoulder. A thought raced through her mind: small caliber, no exit wound. It did not do much damage; it stuck in the bone.
But her larger .38 hit him right in the heart. His eyes grew wide. He slowly looked down at the hole in his shirt. He dropped his gun and it clattered to the floor.
“Oh! You got me!”
He clutched his chest and sagged to his knees, then collapsed in a heap.
That’s odd, Nancy thought. He seemed overly dramatic. Sarcastic, even.
She clenched her shoulder with her other hand to staunch the bleeding.
“Well, this dress is ruined.”
Nancy reached toward the phone on her desk, picking up the black Bakelite handset. She jiggled the hook and said, “Operator?”
The man laughed from the floor, stunning her into silence. He stood up while her mouth dropped open. Slowly, in shock, she lowered the handset back to its cradle.
“Yeah, you got me. Got me good. Not a bad shot for a dame.”
He brushed off dust from his suit and she watched as the hole in his middle shrunk and disappeared, the bloodstain rapidly shrinking. He looked up and smiled at her, maliciously.
“But to really get me, you got to do better than that.”
He thrust his hand toward her and a bolt of golden light shot out, striking her middle and coursing through her body. Her heart stopped.
She clutched at her chest, weakly, her strength and stamina leaching away. She slid out of her chair and fell down to the floor.
He casually reached down and picked up his pistol, walked over to her and shot it three more times, point blank at her head.
“Now, where is that file?”
He bent down and worked through the contents of Nancy’s desk drawer. He pulled out a manila folder and held it to the light.
“Ah, here we go.”
He walked out the office door with the file, leaving her corpse pooling in blood.
Chapter 1
Two fae strode down a wing of the Headquarters’ library, passing dozens upon dozens of display cases filled with ancient jewelry, the damaged and smoldering body of a human computer interface on the floor behind them.
The dark haired one said, “So this is where all our objects end up. They bring them here and put them behind glass. That’s despicable.”
T
he blond one said, “It doesn’t seem to stop, Finn. How long does this corridor continue?”
“I don’t know. Let’s make a shortcut.”
Finn raised his hand and a stream of bright light crashed through the display cases and the wall behind it. The two stepped through the hole amid swirling clouds of dust and smoke.
“This hallway looks like the one we just left,” the blond said.
“These artifacts are from different alternates. Look, they’re newer. Our wristlets were made in the first alternate. All the jewelry from the first alternate must be in the corridor we just left. These pieces on display here are more recent.”
“How can you tell?”
Finn summoned a heavy gold necklace from a display case. It flew up, crashed through the glass and sailed over to his hand.
“Look. Can you feel its weakened power, Art? It’s not as strong as our wristlets.”
Art nodded, slowly. “You’re right. This is a later creation. Still powerful, but not as strong as those made by Sethlans.”
Finn said, “Let’s see what’s on the other side. Maybe we can help Sethlans and the others learn more today.”
He blew a hole in the far wall, and they stepped through to yet another corridor filled with display cases.
Art said, “Have we really lost this much jewelry over the centuries?”
Tiff and Darius Booker ran from the residence wing down the hall to the foyer. Cait’s human representation stood at a computer terminal, furiously waving her hands through holographic screens.
Tiff said, “What’s the matter? We heard your alert.”
“There are fae in the library. Eb has been shut down somehow, probably by a magical attack. I am sensing enormous damage occurring as the intruders try to find their way out.”
“Where are they now?”
“If they continue on their current path, they will break into the gymnasium in approximately five minutes.”
Tiff turned to Booker and said, “Let’s go!”
Finn blew a hole into another wall and said, “This is boring. I think I hate libraries. First, all of our stolen jewelry. Then relics of various kinds. Now books. Tons and tons of books. How dull can these people be?”
Art stepped through the newest hole, picking his way over a pile of paperbacks, and said, “Hello. I think we’ve left the library.”
Lights turned on as they entered a new area. They stopped and looked around a large gymnasium, collapsible wooden bleachers pushed up against the walls.
Art said, “It’s styled like something from a 19th century high school. Look, no air conditioning. No modern lighting. Windows high in the walls above the bleachers.”
Finn said, “You’re right. Look at that old wooden floor. And those moldy safety mats. They have all this supposedly superior technology. Why would they create something so archaic?”
“Maybe it’s meant to be a museum, and it’s not really functional.”
“But why? What’s its purpose?”
A loud groan came the far corner of the gym.
“What . . . was that?”
The groan turned into a growl. Buster shambled out of the shadows, hands outstretched, angry glowing red eyes staring at the fae.
“It’s a simulacrum,” Finn said. “Ugliest one I’ve ever seen.”
The huge creature moaned, arms straight out as he charged the fae.
With a bored motion, Art raised a hand, palm outward. A bolt of light shot out, and sizzled through Buster’s middle.
Buster stopped, arms slowly lowering to his side. He looked down at the hole in his chest, a quizzical expression on his face.
“Urgh?”
He collapsed in a pile on the floor.
Art said, “Nasty stuff these people create. I swear, the stench on that one could be sold to the Krauts as poison gas.”
“That’s not how they look at us, do you think?” Finn said. “Perhaps this is a training area. And he represents us.”
“Surely they don’t see us that way. We are far older than they are, and we—”
Art jerked to the right, barely avoiding the iron rod zipping through the air near his face. Finn jumped in the other direction before an iron-threaded net fell on him. They both cast stasis spells on the weapons and turned to hurl balls of light at the door to the gym.
The light hit the doors and they exploded off their hinges. Tiff and Darius threw up arms to protect their faces.
Tiff flew into the gym and threw black iron daggers at the fae. They scrambled again, quickly tossing stasis spells at the projectiles.
Booker moved more cautiously, on foot. He pulled out another net from his pocket, about eight inches in diameter. He had deduced how it worked by watching Tiff. He crumpled it up and threw it like a ball toward one of the fae. It increased tenfold in size, and rushed toward Finn with a mind of its own.
The fae saw it coming well in advance and stopped it with a spell several feet out. He blasted a few more bolts of light at Tiff, who whipped around the gym like a sprite lobbing iron daggers at random. Art grabbed her full attention with a volley of lightning bolts.
Finn turned to look at Booker. He smiled wickedly and said, “You’re new at this.”
Booker said, “What makes you think—”
He choked off the rest of his words as a stasis spell enveloped him.
“Because otherwise, you would have known to expect that.”
Finn turned toward the ceiling and shouted, “I have your friend down here!”
Tiff pulled out another iron rod from her pocket. It quickly grew into a heavy, eight-foot long weapon. She drifted down from the ceiling and landed lightly on her feet, assuming a fighting stance.
Finn said, “Now, I realize you two are immortal. But, that doesn’t mean you can’t suffer, right?”
He made a motion with his index finger, and a red line appeared on Booker’s front, stretching from his collarbone to his pelvis. Darius still couldn’t move, but his irises widened in shock. The line grew larger, wider, and everything inside him began to seep out: blood, entrails, organs. A slow, horrified scream slipped out of his frozen lips.
Tiff thrust her rod out and it broke in two, twirling toward the fae. She somersaulted backward, away from simultaneous blasts of light from Art and Finn, and threw her last two daggers.
The fae quickly cast stasis spells at her projectiles, then Finn caught her with another spell. She froze in the air, halfway to the ceiling.
Finn and Art looked at each other and smiled.
Art said, “This is fun! We should have found our way into this place a long time ago.”
A slushing noise filled the gym from where Buster had fallen. His middle regenerated, the skin stitching itself back together. He went up on one knee, then pulled himself fully erect.
“Urgh!”
Art said, “Look, he’s respawning. It’s like the monsters in those video games the kids play.”
Finn said, “Oh, he looks mad!”
The floor shook as Buster rushed them.
Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!
Art and Finn threw several bolts of light, slashing and slicing through Buster.
“YAAARGGH!”
Buster fell head first to the floor and exploded in a cloud of fetid evaporated flesh.
At the same time, Nancy Chance rushed in through the doors wearing a black leather jumpsuit. She made jerking motions with her hands and the iron struts supporting the gym’s ceiling fell down on the fae.
All the daggers, the nets, and Tiff and Darius were suddenly freed, the iron beams blocking the fae’s magic.
Tiff flew over to Darius, now sprawled on the floor. She held out her hand and a huge mass of cotton gauze appeared. She went to work trying to fix up his middle.
Nancy walked over to the two fae, grunting helplessly under the metal.
Finn snarled and said to Art, “Told you . . . don’t get . . . distracted.”
Nancy pulled out an iron rod, about a foot long. Like Tiff�
�s, it lengthened immediately, the point sharpening. She thrust it into Finn’s head. He exploded in a gust of wind and light, leaving behind a small, storm-cloud gray and translucent body. She watched as the heart quit beating, waiting until the little creature lay still.
Then she walked over to Art. The blond struggled against the iron struts on top of him.
“No. No! We can talk! There’s things I can tell you! There are plans you know nothing—”
She thrust the tip of the rod into his head, and his outer human shell blew away.
Phoom!
Nancy, Tiff, and Darius Booker sat in his lavish new living room. Darius sipped from a mug of warm Tree of Life tea, his hands trembling slightly.
Tiff stood and adjusted the blanket around Booker’s shoulders. Nancy raised an eyebrow at the tender gesture, but kept any comments to herself.
Darius took another sip of tea.
“When you finish that,” Tiff said, “you’ll probably need a couple more to get all healed up. Sleep helps, too.”
Booker nodded and took yet another sip. Then he locked eyes with Nancy.
“Thanks for helping back there. I’m glad you came in when you did.”
Nancy smiled and said, “Sorry I didn’t get here before they cut you up. That looked painful.”
Booker shuddered, as if reliving the moment, and nodded grimly. He said, “I hate those guys.”
“Welcome to the club. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to take some more out, before long. First rule is, don’t hesitate. Don’t talk, don’t respond. Just kill them, as quickly as possible. If you waste time talking, you’re giving them more opportunities to recuperate and attack.”
Booker nodded soberly, and continued drinking tea.
They heard a knock at the door before it opened. Jason walked in, followed closely by Cait’s human interface.
Jason stood tall, with long blond hair falling to his shoulders above a handsome face with high cheekbones. Beside him, Cait’s average, plain-Jane appearance seemed particularly ordinary.