by Karlik, Mary
Layla pressed her palm against her chest and blinked back tears. “They’re not being forced to grant wishes. Magic is being removed from the fairies. These people who buy the globes are torturing the fairies until their magic is gone and they die.”
Theo leaned back in his chair. “They don’t realize the fairies are real.”
“Where do they think the magic comes from?” Layla swiped a tear from her cheek.
Theo squinted at the picture. “It says that to make a wish come true, the necklace must be worn. Every twelve hours it is to be placed in the oil to be recharged. When the fey no longer illuminates, they order a replacement.”
“It should say when the fairy is dead, because that’s what happens. How can these people not see it?” The twist in Layla’s gut tightened into full-fledged, base-of-the-belly anger. “They’re stealing their essence.” Starting at her temples, she dug her fingers into her mass of hair and pulled her hands away from her scalp. “A fey’s brìgh. Her soul is anchored to her magic. As her magic is siphoned from her, so is her soul. You can have a soul without magic, but you can’t have magic without a soul. These fairies are being slowly murdered.”
Ian’s face paled. “Miranda wore one of those necklaces.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth. “She’d run out of magic.” His shoulders drooped and bent forward as though he’d taken a blow to the gut. “She killed a fairy. Sweet Miranda killed a fairy. And she wanted more.”
Buzzard clapped him on the shoulder. “Remember, man, she didn’t understand what she was doing. It was like an addiction.”
Jack leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s worse than an addiction. Addicts can recover. This—” He pointed to the computer. “This is never-ending torture. These people are innocent. They don’t know what they’re doing.”
Layla fisted her hands in her lap. “Would they buy them if they weren’t greedy? No. The only true innocents in this scheme are the fey.” She shoved her chair away from the table and stood. Fury flashed through her and her wings snapped open to their widest expanse. “I need some space.” She fey-sized and flew to the daisy room.
What now? All the horrible things she’d heard about humans were true. Worse, half of her was one of them. No wonder her mum had been evasive when she’d asked her about her real dad. No wonder the other fey couldn’t accept her. No wonder they regarded her with disdain.
Lightning cracked overhead and flashed through the windows. Rain pelted the roof as she flew around the room like a moth in a lampshade. There was nowhere to go, but she had too much anger inside to stop. Besides, as much as she wanted distance from the humans, she’d already proved she couldn’t save the fey without their help.
On about her fiftieth lap around the room, she noticed Ian leaning on the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest, watching her. On the fifty-first lap, he spoke. “Layla, flying around like a mad fairy isn’t going to help the situation.”
The calm in his voice felt like a stick poking at her emotional beehive. It served only to wind up her rage to the very edge of reason. She hovered in front of his face long enough to shout, “How can your people be so heartless?” She took off again, lapping the room faster than before.
“My people?” He put his hand to his chest. “My people? I am not responsible for the world. I didn’t purchase a fairy. I’m on your side, remember?”
He was right, of course. It took a few more laps around the room before she’d expended enough energy to admit it, though.
When she did, she hovered in front of him. “In school we learned that humans were greedy, self-centered creatures. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t be part of a race that was so awful. I understand now why I was an outcast.” And with those words, the ache to be accepted raised the cràdh to the surface full force. It mocked her for all the times she’d worked extra hard to be kind to everyone. It hadn’t made one whit of difference, but she kept trying. Her fate as an outcast had been sealed when the first teacher had explained the atrocities of human nature.
Ian entered the room and sat on the end of the bed. “Come on, have a seat.”
She landed next to him. “I prefer to remain fey for the moment.”
“Understandable.” He scratched his forehead. “You’re right, there are some nasty, greedy humans. But there are good ones too. And there are those who feel hopeless. Those who are desperate to find a way out of their situation. They look for the simple solution.”
“But they’re killing another creature.” She didn’t want his words to make sense. She wasn’t ready to completely give up the anger charging through her body.
“They don’t know. Most people in this world don’t believe in magic or fairies.” He leaned back on his hands. “Tell me something—are all fey good? Is it a world of bliss where everybody gets along? Or are there a few who aren’t so great, and for whatever reason, make everybody else’s life miserable?”
Layla looked down and human-sized. “You’re right, of course. My cousin Kenna is a prime example of someone who makes my life miserable.”
“The one who scared you with the ogres?”
“Aye.” She rubbed her wrist where the protection bracelet used to be. “My mum put the bracelet on me that kept me from using magic. And, it seems she lied to me. She told me that I was without magic and that it was for my protection. I haven’t really wanted to think about it until now.” She stared at her hands and shook her head. “That’s an awful thing to do.”
“I’m sure she had her reasons.” His tone was soft and soothing. As much as she wanted to be strong, to pretend she didn’t need anyone or their comfort, Ian’s words, his understanding, his support was exactly what she needed.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Is being half human so horrible that it was worth setting me up for a life of torment?” She brushed the tears away. “I don’t know how I would have survived if I hadn’t had an iron immunity and learned how to fight.”
Ian bumped her shoulder with his. “Unfortunately, you only know half of the story. I can see where magic mixed with the potential to wield a sword and the immaturity of youth could make for a dangerous combination. Maybe your mum intended the bracelet to be temporary.”
Layla sniffed. “I’ll never know now. No use crying over it.” Following the odd human ritual, she bumped her shoulder back against his. “Aye, I’m probably the only fey in our world with a metal immunity.”
He ducked his head to look her in the eyes. “Hey, all those things that happened to you are horrible, to be sure. But think about it. Only a magical with an iron immunity can save the fey. And that magical with an iron immunity is you. This is your destiny, Layla.”
Her muscles tightened with frustration. “And I’ve done a fine job so far. Clearly, immunity or not, I can’t battle the magic in those cages. How are we going to save them?”
A half smile grew on Ian’s lips. “Without magic.”
She cocked her head. “How do you mean?”
“Miranda reached through the bars as if they weren’t there. She’s not magical. You can’t pull them from the cages. But I can.”
The cràdh crawled back into hiding and her heart beat a little lighter. “Of course. It makes perfect sense.” She wiped the remnants of tears from her face and stood. “Come on. Let’s go.” She pulled Ian up and led him back to the den.
“—don’t care if she is magical, she’s reckless.” Buzzard sat back with his arms folded. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t get us all killed.”
Layla snapped her wings wide and faced the agent. “I can promise you’ll have a better chance of not getting killed with my magic than without.”
Buzzard’s face reddened and his eyes darkened. He leaned forward as though he was about to argue, but before he could open his mouth—
—the world shifted counterclockwise—
—and Layla and Ian fell to the floor in a tangle of legs, arms, and wings. Buzzard’s and Jack’s chairs slid across the room, but neither were
unseated. Theo was dumped from his chair, but managed to clutch his laptop to his chest on the way down.
The teapot and teacups clattered to the floor and then the Dark Forest appeared in the den. Only this time, there was no thin veil separating it from the human realm. The scent of dirt, pine, and a midnight autumn frost filled the air.
A hollow scream blasted from the depths of the forest, chilling Layla right through her skin to the marrow of her bones.
A second mournful cry shook the flat.
A bean nighe, a banshee, came from deep in the woods and flew through the room. Her wails echoed through the house. Everyone ducked as she flew toward them.
Layla’s pulse raced and she clutched Ian’s arm as the banshee flew through the wall to Miranda’s room. The spirit let out another shrill cry, flew back into the den, circled low over Ian and Layla, and tore back into the forest.
Then the forest disappeared. The only evidence that the magical world had encroached into the human realm was a gold leaf sizzling among the scattered and broken teacups and saucers.
Ian untangled himself from Layla. “What was that thing?”
“A bean nighe—a banshee—come to warn us that there will be a death tonight.” Theo sat on the floor, white faced, the computer still pressed to his chest. “I’ve seen it before, the night my cousin died.”
Without a word, Layla crawled to her feet and grabbed a chipped cup and saucer from the floor. Swirling the leaves in the remaining liquid, she ran to the table and flipped the cup over onto a saucer. Concentrating on the bean nighe’s cry, she waited until the remaining liquid drained from the cup. Then she righted the cup and stared at the patterns of leaves remaining inside.
Theo picked up the chair he’d sat in and placed his computer on the table. “My mum has the second sight and reads the leaves. She’s taught me a little. Do you mind if I have a look?” He stood behind her and peered over her shoulder.
Ian and Jack gathered close. Buzzard picked up the rest of the dishes from the floor.
“Anything to the right of the handle is the future.” Layla pointed to the inside of the cup. “These wavy lines indicate an uncertain path. The X in the center of the lines is a warning. It tells us to be aware of danger.”
Buzzard called from the kitchen, “Now, there’s a shock.”
Ian leaned over the cup. “I don’t know anything about reading tea leaves, but is that an M clinging to the rim?”
“Aye.” Layla’s throat went dry.
“And it wouldn’t be a reach to assume the M stood for Miranda.” Ian’s voice sounded strained as he spoke.
Layla nodded. “And that’s a dragon touching it.”
Jack toyed with a marker. “What does that mean?”
The banshee’s cry mixed with the warnings in the leaves sent tremors through Layla. She placed the cup on the table, but kept her hands wrapped around it to keep them from shaking. “She’s in grave danger.”
Buzzard called over his shoulder, still full of mockery. “Another startling revelation. I can’t believe a real fairy with real fairy magic believes a bunch of wet herbs can predict the future.”
Ignoring Buzzard, Layla concentrated on keeping her voice steady. “There’s an ax below the letter, which I would take as a second warning.”
Thunder exploded overhead, causing her to jump. But the twist in her gut had nothing to do with the storm. She looked up from the cup and met Theo’s gaze. He knew. Silently, she pleaded with him to keep his knowledge to himself.
He opened his mouth, but then he turned away.
She let out a ragged breath and dropped her wings low on her back. If they were going to believe in success, she needn’t point out the bold letter I on the other side of the dragon, or the cross beneath it. Besides, a cross was an ambiguous symbol with several meanings. It could mean success or even rebirth. It didn’t always mean death.
But the thing that disturbed her the most, the thing whose meaning was unclear, was the second dragon. The one partially layered on top of that big, bold, capital letter I.
Chapter Fourteen
The storm had progressed to a steady rain without the thunder and lightning, but that didn’t settle the whirlwind of anxiety in Layla’s gut as she climbed into the van.
She sat on the bench next to Theo. Buzzard sat on the floor opposite them. Jack and Ian rode in the cab.
Theo stared at his hands. “That look you gave me back in the flat… was it about the second letter in the leaves?” His voice was so quiet she barely heard him.
“Aye.” Layla squeaked the word between her teeth, hoping that Buzzard wasn’t interested in their conversation. If Ian’s failure is not an option speech was going to hold any weight, the team didn’t need to know the full story.
Buzzard hitched his arm over his drawn-up knee and smirked. “Don’t worry about talking in front of me. You know I don’t believe in all that hocus-pocus anyway.”
Theo sat up straight and shook his head. “Do you hear what you just said? Do you not see the wings on Layla’s back? This is not some crazy dream.”
“Aye. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that the wee folk exist. But I don’t believe you can tell the future by looking at a cup of wet tea leaves, nor do I believe in tarot cards, crystal balls, or any of that other psychic stuff.”
Theo pointed at Layla. “But she’s magical. How can you not believe?”
Layla shoulder-bumped Theo. “It’s okay. I’m just happy that he doesn’t think I’m a vision.”
Buzzard looked up at her. “It might be easier to accept if you were.” And for the first time, Layla saw the surly man smile. It looked uncomfortable, like his smile muscles were straining from inactivity, but it was there. And for a moment his joke lightened the tension building in the air.
Then silence fell over the van and restlessness crawled through her. They’d discussed the details of the plan, but nobody seemed to have an overabundance of conviction that it would actually work.
But it had to work. Lives depended on it.
The cràdh chuffed. Layla could not afford to listen to the spirit. Instead, she thought of Ian’s speech and whispered, “Failure is not an option.”
Theo smiled. “Ian’s mantra. It helps a little when confidence is hard to find.”
Her face flushed. She hadn’t meant him to hear. “And how are you feeling?”
Theo shrugged. “A day on the job—only with magic.” But the constant bounce of his knee told her he wasn’t as calm as he pretended. Oddly, knowing that he was at least a little nervous gave her a shot of confidence.
When the van stopped, Ian peeked through the passage from the front. “We managed to park near the close. Let’s get in, get the fairies, and get out.”
Thankfully, the storm had forced most of the humans into the pubs. The team splashed across the rain-soaked street and into the tunnel without having to maneuver around crowds of tourists. Once inside, they switched on their torches and made their way through the first part of the passage.
At the intersection with Mary King’s Close, they halted. Ian turned to the team. “Torches off. We’ll drop behind the next tour as they pass.”
They didn’t have to wait long. A tour guide led a group of about ten people past the intersection and stopped in front of the metal door.
The burned-out lock of the steel door hadn’t been repaired, but police tape crisscrossed from one side of the frame to the other. The guide pointed to the door. “You may have heard about the wee explosion early this morning. It was determined to be a prank. Some hooligans thought it would be funny to discharge a stink bomb. The authorities believe they were trying to get through this door to go exploring. It’s a terrible idea. You see, behind this door is a very much haunted maze of tunnels. It has been sealed since the nineties, when a lad was lost for two days.”
Buzzard raised his hand. “Did they find the buggers who set off the bomb?”
“No. They searched the whole area and found nothing. The g
hosties must have kept them out.”
The guide moved on while the team remained behind. Jack and Buzzard blocked the view of the door while Ian reached through the tape and pushed it open.
Jack looked up the tunnel. “Clear.”
Buzzard nodded. “Clear this way too.”
Ian pulled the tape away enough for them to enter the passage. Then, with the door cracked, Layla fey-sized, re-stuck the tape, and returned to the tunnel.
Once inside, the group turned their torches on. Jack swept the beam across the passage in front of him. “If the authorities searched the area, how did they miss the massive structure holding the fairies?”
Theo answered, “Couldn’t there have been a ward or disguise?”
Layla human-sized. “A glamour. Aye.”
Ian aimed his light down the tunnel. “More than likely they only went so far. McIntyre would have notified them that it was an undercover operation. I’m more concerned that Connor Davis and the Dark Harvester will know we’re up to something. We need to be aware.”
Layla’s wings fluttered with anxiety. “Aye. Anything that seems unusual probably is.”
Tension hung heavy in the atmosphere as Theo led them through the underground maze. Jack continued to sweep his torch beam left and right. “I’ll be glad when this mission is behind us. I’d rather be arresting one of the Lyon clan than dealing with these magical buggers.”
Buzzard huffed. “Aye. At least we know what the gangs are about.”
Ian turned to Layla. “Do you sense anything?”
“No. Everything seems perfectly normal.” They crossed an intersection—and then all at once the lights went out.
Ian ordered, “Nobody bloody move.”
Layla’s pulse coursed through her body so fast she felt her heart thump against her ribs. Her skin heated and her head throbbed and her wings snapped open wide as she stood in complete darkness. She heard the men click the buttons on their torches while she tried to conjure a light. It was useless. “The light has been swallowed.”