Magic Harvest

by Karlik, Mary

  She put her hands up as if she were physically pushing it away. It stopped advancing, but it didn’t recede either. It reminded her of the push-pull she’d experienced with the Harvester.

  If it had worked once, maybe it would work again.

  Lowering her hands, she allowed the white glow from the shop to flow into her in a single stream. When her insides were full, she walked forward and touched the handle.

  The energy inside her surged, but she was in control and entered the shop.

  Jack stood in the center and took a step back when she came through. “Layla. I wasn’t sure what was about to come through that door. Thankfully, it was you.”

  “Let’s just hope I can get us out.” She scanned the room. “What happened? Where is everybody?”

  “Save him.” The Narcissus fairy, Shona, stood on the counter next to a globe. “It’s my man.”

  Layla picked up the globe. A ginger-haired lad was pressed against the glass as if he’d been glued there. “We need to get him to the church with the others. Where’s the locket with his brìgh?”

  She pulled several lockets from beneath the collar of her dress. “I managed to get all of them.”

  “All of them?” Layla set the globe on the counter.

  Shona nodded. “They’re all trapped.”

  Layla’s breath caught. “How? We killed the Dark Harvester.”

  Jack answered, “Connor Davis.”

  “Where is he?” Layla peeked between the curtains as though he might be out there, but Jack shook his head.

  “Gone.”

  Shona kissed the globe. “You will find a way to free him. Won’t you?”

  Layla flicked her gaze to Jack. “We have to get to the church. Where are the others?”

  Shona pointed. “Behind the counter.”

  The globes scattered across the floor behind the counter twisted Layla’s heart. Some of the fey were trapped with their hands shielding their faces, others in a defensive stance, a few pressed against the glass like Shona’s man, but all of them were in agony. She dropped to her knees and picked up a globe. The girl inside knelt on a tuft of grass surrounded by half-dead flowers. She wore a forest green dress and her auburn hair fell in front of her shoulders in loose curls. She almost looked at ease among the flowers—if not for the fear reflected in her cobalt eyes.

  “Help me gather them.” Layla began to tuck the globes into the sacks Jack and Theo had brought.

  Jack worked alongside her and when they’d finished, he carried the sacks toward the door.

  Layla caught his arm. “Wait. Let me make sure it’s safe.”

  Spreading her arms wide, she welcomed the ward to enter her. It poured into her like sand falling through a sieve—so fast, it nearly knocked her down. She managed to hold the charge and concentrated on quieting it—like putting it to sleep.

  Before anybody left the building, she had to deactivate the ward. She intended to release the charge through the door, like emptying a dustbin. Only, when she let it go, the entire door blew out.

  When the debris cleared, Buzzard and Theo stood in the doorway. Theo gave her a sideways look. “That was subtle.”

  She brushed dust from her sleeves. “It got the job done.” She grabbed a sack bulging with globes and stepped through the hole.

  Jack stepped across the debris behind her. “We’d better get out of here before the authorities arrive.”

  Ian landed on the walkway and shifted human. Layla was quick to cover him with the clothes glamour. If the others noticed his momentary nakedness, they didn’t show it.

  Jack held up the sacks. “We need to go. Now.”

  Layla scanned the walkway for the fallen fey, but it was empty. “What happened to the fairies who were struck by the ward? I saw them fall.”

  “I flew them to the churchyard with the sack of globes they’d retrieved.” Ian scanned the courtyard. “I reckoned if I could get them across the fence, they’d be safe.”

  Her tension eased. “So they’re alive?”

  “Weak, but alive.” He jerked his neck in an unnatural move for a human and turned to Theo. “Take the rest of the globes to the church. Make sure everybody gets to the cellar safely.”

  Theo raised his brows. “Are you okay?”

  “He’s here.” Ian shook his shoulders as if a shudder had run through him. “I feel him. We’re going to finish this.”

  Shona grabbed Layla’s sleeve and fluttered her wings. “You can’t beat him. He’s pure evil.”

  Layla smiled at the fairy. “We have to try.”

  Theo motioned to Shona with a nod. “Come on.” The fairy followed Theo across the courtyard and into the close.

  Ian’s eyes turned crimson for the space of a blink. “I know who we’re up against.”

  Jack looked at him. “Connor Davis.”

  Layla felt the dragon claw at Ian and his faced tensed before he spoke. “No. A dragon. He’s called Fauth.”

  Just the sound of his name made Layla take an involuntary step back.

  Jack placed a hand on his gun. “And who is Fauth?”

  “The enemy of all fey. The one who massacred innocents at a fête. The one who killed my parents.” Her wings snapped open to their full expanse. “How is he here?”

  Ian’s face turned a pale green. “I don’t know, but the dragon in me can sense him. I also know he took Miranda for his mate.”

  Layla flashed a sympathetic look. Hoping to give him a little shot of confidence, she said, “That’s why there wasn’t much left of her. I suspect she wouldn’t have completed the return to herself even if you hadn’t bumped into the cage.”

  “If that’s true, it’s something to hang on to. Maybe I can control this—” He jerked his head up as his eyes turned red. He growled, “He’s here.” He didn’t moan as his body morphed into that of a dragon, but Layla felt the anguish reflected on his face as he changed.

  Ian lifted off the ground.

  Jack pulled his gun from his holster.

  Buzzard held the sword and targe at the ready.

  Layla’s pulse hammered through her system as she scanned the area for signs of Fauth.

  Jack yelled up at Ian, “Can you see where he’s hiding?”

  “I’m here.” They turned toward the voice.

  Connor Davis stepped from the shadows on the far side of the courtyard. He tapped his walking stick and a red bolt shot across the cobblestones. “You destroyed my store.”

  “You are Fauth?” Every muscle quivered inside Layla and her joints felt as if they were on the verge of dropping her to the ground in a heap, but she managed to stay upright and kept her voice steady and strong.

  “Your people stuck me in this disgusting form and banished me to this disgusting world.” He slammed the tip of his stick on the ground, releasing another jolt.

  “They should have killed you.” The words erupted from the very base of her belly.

  “Ahh, but that’s what makes my revenge so sweet. Fairies are incapable of killing. The cry of the fey—We are not warriors.” He walked toward Layla, tapping his stick with each step. Each tap emitted another bolt. “It made it so easy to capture them.”

  She wanted to run or at the very least step back, but she didn’t. She planted her feet where she stood and raised her chin a little higher. “Why sell them?”

  “What better way to humble a race than to enslave them? Oh, and the magic of the globes… such sweet torture.” His lips moved into a position somewhere between a sneer and a smile. “To the simple human mind, they look peaceful. Just statues surrounded by liquid magic.”

  He leaned on the globe at the top of the cane. “Everything was proceeding better than we’d imagined until you followed the Dark Harvester.” He raised his stick and swept a bolt at her feet, knocking her to the ground. “That’s for killing him.”

  Pain shot through her shins and feet. She tried to speak, but could only gasp.

  Ian landed in front of Layla and faced Fauth.

 
Fauth raised his cane. “You are a fool if you think you can defeat me. I have control of the dragon now.” He pointed the globe of the cane at Ian. “Pick her up by the throat.”

  Ian spun toward Layla and wrapped his claw around her neck. She struggled to pry his talons away, but they didn’t give. All he had to do was squeeze and he’d snap her neck in two.

  Jack advanced toward the dragon. “This isn’t you, Ian. You are human. Layla is your friend, let her go.”

  Fauth shot a stream of magic into Jack’s back, dropping him to the ground. Then he raised a brow at Buzzard. “Next?”

  Buzzard held the sword ready to strike, but didn’t move.

  “Ah, the thinker. Well, I don’t intend to make this quick. I find my prey tastes so much better when it’s toyed with first. All that adrenaline, you know.”

  Layla slowed her breathing and thought of the words her mum had taught her. Ceann sociar. Smaointeann soilleir. Never had so much rested on her keeping a cool head and clear thoughts. If she could call the walking stick to her, they’d have a chance. She snapped her hand toward it but Fauth was faster and moved it behind his back before she connected her magic with it.

  He wagged the index finger of his free hand at her. “Naughty, naughty. You’ll have to pay for that.” He pointed the globe at Ian. “Toss her away.”

  Layla felt Ian’s muscles tremble as he hesitated. Was he struggling to disobey? “Fight him, Ian.”

  With false sympathy in his tone, Fauth tsked at the dragon. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you have her again.”

  Ian lifted Layla up and slammed her into the ground. Every bone in her body shook with the impact. Pain ripped through her as her left wing muscle tore.

  Buzzard started toward Layla.

  “I’m all right.” Her torn wing hung awkwardly toward the ground as she crawled to her hands and knees. Ignoring the pain that knifed through her, she focused on Ian. “You can control the dragon.”

  Fauth leaned on the globe of the walking stick with both hands. “I’m afraid there is very little of your human left. I am his master now.”

  Buzzard held out the sword and took another step forward. “Ian, fight for what’s left of you.”

  Fauth turned to Buzzard. “Did you know I ate the fey’s mum? A bit dry for my taste, but then, she was old. But this one…” He licked his bottom lip. “She’s young and fresh.” He snapped his teeth and growled. “One more step and I’ll take her apart piece by piece.”

  Buzzard lowered Tormed.

  “That’s better.” Fauth turned his attention back to Layla. “Look at you. Battered, and with a broken wing. It hardly took anything to reduce you to this. Who’s going to save you?” He pointed the stick at Jack. “Agent Jack Dunn is near death.” He waved the globe toward Buzzard. “Agent Colin MacLeod is betting that he’ll figure out a way to destroy me. And then there’s my new pet, Special Agent Ian Cameron.” He rolled his shoulders. “Surprised? Oh yes, I know all about you and your little gang of misfits. But, I’m not entirely ready for this little encounter to end. It’s far too amusing.” He pointed the globe at Ian. “Come stand beside me.”

  Ian obeyed.

  “Fight him, Ian.” Layla reached her soul out to his, longing to feel the man locked inside fighting for control. What she found—what she felt—was nothing more than the emptiness of a dragon’s soul.

  Fauth climbed on Ian’s neck. “I’m a fair man—dragon. Give me what’s mine and I’ll let your dragon live. He’ll serve me, but he’ll live. You have one hour to meet my demands. Have the fairies outside the kirkyard waiting for me.”

  Ian rose into the air, bearing his evil burden high above the buildings. The air cracked and they disappeared.

  Buzzard ran to Jack. “He’s still alive.” He turned to Layla. “Can you walk?”

  She pulled herself to her feet. Her legs burned, her body ached, and her wing throbbed, but she wasn’t dead. “I can manage.”

  Buzzard lifted Jack over his shoulder. “Come on.”

  When they arrived at the church, Theo was waiting. “Father Wilson said you were on your way.” He helped Buzzard carry Jack in. “Where’s Ian?”

  Layla’s soul ached with sorrow and the cràdh drank in her defeat like sweet nectar as tears came to her eyes. “We lost him. He’s under the control of Fauth.”

  “Fauth?” Theo narrowed his eyes in confusion.

  “Connor Davis is a dragon called Fauth.” Layla explained everything as fast as she could. She’d hoped they’d make a plan to defend themselves. That they’d figure out a way to get Ian back and defeat Fauth.

  But in truth, failure is not an option was little more than a nursery rhyme. There was no way to save the fairies trapped in the globes. Her disastrous attempt to rescue Isla had proved that. Ian was lost to them, Jack was down, she had a broken wing, and they were all exhausted.

  It was a hopeless battle. And they had no choice but to fight it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The weight of impending defeat stooped Layla’s posture and pulled her insides into a tight coil until her senses were numbed. She hesitated in the alcove just outside the cellar and struggled to find words that would inspire the fey.

  Inspire them for what? To fly to their deaths?

  Now, with Ian in Fauth’s control, they had two dragons to battle. What little magic had returned to this band of broken and battered fairies was useless against the beasts. She took a deep breath, ignored the throbbing in her wing, and stepped forward with Ian’s mantra blowing through her mind like dead leaves in an autumn wind.

  The two fairies who’d been knocked unconscious while trying to recue the others ran to Layla as she entered the room. They introduced themselves as brothers named Leo and Riley from the Poppy clan. Both appeared to be close to Layla’s age.

  Leo’s hair was cut close to the scalp, except for a shock of ginger on top. His left hand hung in a makeshift sling. He extended his right hand to shake Layla’s. “Did you finish him?”

  Layla gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “The fight has just begun.”

  Riley, who looked a little older than Leo, adjusted a bandage around his head. “We’re with you all the way.”

  Layla hugged them. “Thank you.”

  Father Wilson shooed the brothers away. “Let the lass in.”

  Theo and Buzzard emptied their sacks until fey globes lined the walls of the cellar two rows deep.

  The Primrose fairy flew to Buzzard. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  “Aye.” Buzzard sat with his legs crossed and recounted the rescue while Layla desperately looked for her sister.

  When Buzzard finished, the Primrose fairy scanned the room with a resigned sigh. “I guess we’ll all be dead or trapped in one of those things.”

  “We’ll do our best, wee one.” Buzzard’s voice was soft, but his tone was bleak.

  Part of Layla wanted to offer some hope to the fairy, but she was clean out of inspiring words and didn’t have the energy to fabricate them. She hardly took notice as the cràdh yawned, and stretched, and feasted on the hopelessness and failure that filled her. The parasite could eat and grow strong enough to push Layla into a tiny corner of her soul, for all she cared. It didn’t matter, because in hour they were all going to be dead anyway.

  No. The only thing that mattered now was finding Esme. Because when the time came, she was determined to die next to her sister.

  So she followed the path around the room, dragging her broken wing behind her. Most of the globes were of the fairies who’d been posed for sale. The rest were the fairies who had volunteered for the rescue mission. They were the most difficult to look at. There was no artificial positioning for these fey. Their poses were cast at the horrific moment the spell hit them.

  As Layla neared the end of the trail of fey globes, desperation clawed at her. “Esme, where are you?”

  And then, a filigree shadow appeared on the wall and there was no mistaking the familiar pattern. She ran to the globe tucked in
a corner behind another fairy.

  Esme!

  Sorrow dug into Layla’s essence as she studied her sister. Esme’s hair had been shorn off, no doubt to highlight the beauty of her wings. And her wings—her beautiful, delicate wings—had been stretched beyond their natural limits. She was posed like a ballerina with her arms curved in front and her heels together with her toes pointing out. Her sister had hated ballet classes.

  Tears dripped from Layla’s eyes as she ran her hand over the glass of the globe. She’d fought for this moment and now that it was here, the depth of her failure squeezed her soul.

  She carried Esme to the center of the room like the rare and precious gem she was. After carefully placing the globe on the stone floor, Layla fey-sized. She wanted to be as close to her sister as possible in their last hour.

  Theo sat next to her. “Can I apply the salve to your wing? The healer said it would help.”

  “I suppose, although it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?” She pressed her face against the glass while Theo carefully smeared the cream on her torn muscle. It eased the pain instantly, but her wing still hung askew.

  He screwed the lid back on the jar. “Is this your sister?”

  “Aye. But I can’t save her.” She wiped her cheeks but more tears fell. “If I’d been faster, fought harder—” A sob escaped her. “If I hadn’t argued with Esme, none of this would have happened. We would be home, living our life and not knowing about things like human Specialist Crime Division officers or kidnapped fairies. And Ian wouldn’t have been poisoned.”

  Theo nodded. “All of those things are true. But you wouldn’t have found your magic and you wouldn’t have saved all of these good fairies.”

  She jerked around to face him. “But I didn’t save them. I didn’t save anybody. Even Ian is lost to us.”

  Buzzard joined them. “Ian is not lost. Not yet. You and the fairies are safe here. With your sword, I’ll fight Fauth. I won’t leave Ian to the likes of him until I’m dead.”

  Layla looked up at Buzzard. “No. A piece of my soul is in Ian. I am the best chance he has to defeat the dragon. I’m the one with magic. I’ll no let you fight Fauth alone.”