Fixing Fae Problems

by Isa Medina

  Fixing Fae Problems

  Magical Artifacts Institute - Book Four

  Isa Medina

  Copyright © 2021 by Isa Medina Cover by Miblart

  Edited by Lori Whitwam All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of 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

  Epilogue

  Thirty minutes after Aidan had fired me, I sat at a random café, a backpack full of artifacts in my lap, a plate of pie in front of me, and a what the heck do I do now screech running on repeat inside my brain.

  Not how I imagined my first month of employment would end, but it could’ve been worse. I could’ve been held along with Aidan and dragged to whatever horrid detainment center the Council used.

  Would they put Aidan in some horrible cell with a plank for a bed and a scuffed metal urinal as his only company? The Fae had. Why wouldn’t the humans, too? No, I told myself sternly, shoving another forkful of lime

  pie into my mouth. They were only investigating him. They would put him in some interrogation room and leave him to stew for a few hours like they did on TV.

  For now.

  After? Who knew.

  Usually, I loved lime pie. Today, it tasted like dirt as I forced myself to work it between my jaws and swallow it down. The waitress had recommended it, so I’d gone along, barely paying any attention to her words. My brain was still processing the last few hours; it had no space for extra thoughts.

  Someone had hired Lockhart the sorcerer to put a spell on a box with a supposedly dangerous artifact inside, knowing one of us would open the box. They hadn’t cared who opened it, as long as someone did and got spelled.

  Then that same person had attempted to off Lockhart in his shop, hoping an enforcer from the Council would catch us standing over his corpse. Except it hadn’t been Lockhart but his assistant, he hadn’t died, and nobody had caught us lurking by his body.

  And then, a complaint to the Magical Ethics Commission strong enough to warrant a visit from one of their people.

  I poked at the last bit of pie left on my plate, gloomily going through every conversation I’d had with Aidan. Due to a series of unfortunate accidents to other recruits

  at the Institute before me, as well as a strange shift in the

  jobs the Institute got assigned, Aidan had been convinced someone had been working against the Institute for a while now. He called it “the curse,” but curses weren’t a thing, and Aidan didn’t believe in luck, bad or otherwise. Turned out, he was right.

  Someone had focused the Institute and had now turned the heat right up to eleven.

  I speared the last pie bit with my fork and held it at eye level.

  But why now? That was the question, wasn’t it? Up until now, they had run a slow campaign, meant to undermine Aidan as the Institute’s director. But all this effort? There had to be a reason they’d suddenly targeted

  the Institute so assiduously beyond simply wanting to

  remove Aidan—they could’ve simply killed him if that was the case.

  No, they needed something only Aidan had, and I was pretty sure that was the artifacts currently filling the backpack in my lap.

  I had taken them from the Institute under Aidan’s or-ders. Technically, that was probably stealing, since he had fired me before telling me to grab them and run, but like I always say, a willingness to explore new territory is a good trait in any employee.

  The problem was, which of the artifacts were they looking for? Or did they want all? I also had no idea who the person was, which was going to make things hard

  going forward. How did you force someone to give up

  their evil machinations and confess to their dastardly deeds without knowing who they were or what they really wanted?

  A problem for later, I told myself, eating the bit of pie. I left some money on the table and exited the café. Early night had settled in, the air chilly, and I shivered under my long-sleeved T-shirt as I shouldered the backpack and began walking. I kept my face averted, eyeing my surroundings surreptitiously and half expecting to hear the screech of tires before someone jumped out of a car to rush me.

  Logically, I knew that was silly. It hadn’t been that long since Aidan and I had arrived at the Institute and

  found the Council enforcers there. It would take time for

  them to take him wherever for interrogation, and even if they had the interim Institute director lined up, it would take even more time to realize the dangerous artifacts were gone. I didn’t think Aidan kept a list of them anywhere, and whoever wanted the artifacts wouldn’t push too hard or be too obvious. Why mess up the job when you were already there?

  So, nobody would know the artifacts were gone for a couple of days, at least, and then they wouldn’t connect me to them for a little longer.

  Stil, the stress remained, the acrid aftertaste of adrenaline as I jumped at the tiniest sound. Car horns—they should be consigned to the deepest realm of Hell.

  I had gone into the café looking to calm my heart and

  come up with a plan and achieved one of those things. Kind of. The plan was thin, but it was a plan. My heart, well, I had sort of given up on that.

  After asking for directions in another random café, I directed my steps toward the nearest park. It was small and badly lit, the trees’ canopies turning everything into dark maws of shadows, and I knew if I stepped inside I was going to get stabbed. But I had faced worse things. I had faced Fae Lords, ex-humans turned into masses of goo with bones sticking out, and the Bowels of Hell. I would well damn survive three minutes inside this place.

  Also, Greenie’s eager nearby presence pressed on my senses, so that was a plus.

  I hid behind a thick tree and crouched, pressing my

  hand against the soil and tufts of grass. Greenie’s presence grew stronger, and soon his wet muzzle was pressing against my palm.

  “Good boy,” I whispered, pushing this huge head away so I wouldn’t get a lick. The moss and twigs and leaves that made his skin had become familiar under my touch.

  The first step in my plan—hide the artifacts.

  To that effect, I told Greenie to lower himself so I could climb on top of him. Greenie refused. I put my foot down. Greenie laughed then licked me.

  “I’m serious,” I told him sternly, wiping my cheek.

  He must’ve sensed I truly meant it because he let out

  a low yip and crouched so I could get on his back. The

  artifacts clanked against each other as he sprang up. | winced. Artifacts remained inactive unless you poured magic into them, so they weren’t going to go off on their own just because they got jostled around, but I felt guilty. These things were priceless, imbued with the trickiest Fae magic, worthy of the top spots in a museum and not the inside of my backpack between Victor’s protein bars and a water bottle.
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  Alas, times were rough, and everyone had to chip in, I consoled myself. Surely the Fae would’ve constructed them somewhat sturdily if they wanted them to last.

  I told Greenie to go, and he leaped straight into the ground, creating his own goo-portal.

  Then, after hiding the artifacts, 1 went home.

  A shower and some leftovers later, my amazing, spec-tacular, perfect plan came to an end.

  I sat cross-legged on my bed, dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants in case the Council enforcers came barging through the door and I had to make a run for it. Since I lived on the fourth floor, making a run for it would mean jumping out the window, so I doubted the sweatpants were going to do me any favors, but they sure made me feel better.

  Being on the run in my pajamas wasn’t my ideal scenario. Judging by my luck that day—getting spelled, nearly losing all my memories, embroiling Aidan in a huge

  mess, and tricking the local Fae Lord—again—better to be safe than sorry.

  I toyed with the Eye-dagger, unsheathing and sheathing it in a steady rhythm while I considered my options. It seemed to me I had only two choices: disappear, or act like nothing had happened.

  If I dropped off the face of the Earth, people might get suspicious right away. I wasn’t sure if anyone would even check I was around, but if the Ethics Commission wanted confirmation on something and they reached out and I wasn’t there…they might start to get suspicious.

  On the other hand, if I stuck around and acted like everything was normal, it might take them longer to realize I’d been the one who took the artifacts. Why would I

  stay if I had stolen a bunch of artifacts and risk being found out? It would take them a few days to figure it out, unless they broke Aidan down enough to confess.

  My hands tightened on the Eye-dagger’s sheath, and a chill permeated my bones. The Eye blinked a few times, as if concerned, but I didn’t really see it. All I could see was Aidan, bound and gagged while someone unfolded a roll of torture instruments.

  But, no. They wouldn’t do that, I reminded myself. Not even the Fae had done that, and they’d thought Aidan knew the location of the Keeper of Secrets. This investigation had been launched through official Council channels; Aidan hadn’t been kidnapped in some dark

  alleyway to get the Institute’s secrets tortured out of him.

  Not yet, anyway.

  So much for trying to cheer myself up.

  Trying to focus on the matter at hand, I decided my best option was to stick around and try to figure out who had orchestrated this whole thing.

  “Easy, right?” I told the Eye-dagger. “Figure out who it is, what they want, and blackmail them into making things right for Aidan.”

  It gave me the world’s biggest slow blink of suuwure.

  “Don’t be like that, or I’ll leave you behind.”

  It blinked faster.

  Yeah, thought so. The way I looked at it, some might say I had made it this far by deluding myself, so why stop

  now?

  Once settled on my immediate plan of action, the urge to get started on my investigation right away was al-most unbearable. But hammering on people’s front doors in the middle of the night was not normal and bound to raise suspicion.

  Normalcy, I reminded my overeager brain, was the goal. Sleekness and discretion. No jumping in headfirst, no letting my instincts get the better of me. Every move I made tomorrow would be carefully planned.

  With that motto in mind, I slid the Eye-dagger par-tially under my pillow and closed my eyes.

  Exhausted as I was, it still took me a few hours to find

  any sleep.

  In the light of day, the Institute appeared as unimpressive as it always did. No cloud of doom hovered over it, no aura of desperation or air of injustice clung to its red brick facade. Just one more building basking in the cheery spring morning sunlight.

  So deeply unfair. At the very least, it should appear a little weepy, like my soul. Maybe have some water escaping out of a drain or something.

  You can do this, Maddie. I drew strength from the determined tone of my inner voice and shoved the sleeves of my T-shirt up to my el-bows, ready for battle. Inhaling deeply, I took the steps of the Institute’s front entrance and jerked the door open.

  This was the first step of a detailed multi-step plan I had perfected while lying awake.

  Reconnaissance.

  I had to get the lay of the land, see how things looked like at the

  Institute. That would tell me how long I had before I had to run.

  I could’ve called or texted instead of coming in person, but there had been no time to retrieve my phone from my office the day before, and if I got my hands on a burner, I didn’t know anyone’s numbers from memory. Even if I used my mom’s phone to call the Institute’s main number, there were no guarantees I’d get anyone familiar, not to mention I didn’t want my mom linked to this mess in any way.

  A little late for that, given she had birthed me and all, but one could hope.

  No, better to do this sort of thing in person. Even if they had already noticed artifacts were missing, they had no reason to suspect me yet. And if things got hairy, ] would try to make it down to the basement and hope Greenie felt like showing up.

  The main hallway beyond the Institute’s entrance lay silent and empty, as usual. Again, nothing in the atmosphere said the place had gone to hell less than a day ago. Truly, truly, unfair.

  I pondered going to the second floor right away but abandoned the idea, since I didn’t know who was working today. It might have been Victor and the others, or it might’ve been completely new people.

  A soft click-clacking coming from the reception area warned me that my post had already been filled.

  My feet stopped right before the room’s threshold, refusing to take me farther. A knot of nerves and dread formed in my chest. Why had I thought this was a good idea? Who waltzed into their workplace a day after they had been fired while their boss got detained by the higher-ups?

  I swallowed hard, reminding myself of the very long list of reasons this was the best choice of action.

  So what if you get caught? argued the part of me that liked to run into things straight-on. What were they going to do, throw me into jail? Been there, done that. Escaped.

  Wiping my palms on my jeans and rearranging my features into my

  best fake smile, I took that last step.

  Marta peered at me over the reception counter.

  My eyes widened at the sight Marta stuck on reception duty? Oh, boy, things must’ve gone a lot worse than I thought.

  “It’s you,” she said in a neutral voice. The click-clacking ceased for a moment.

  “Hil” I beamed, bouncing my way to the counter and propping my elbows on top. “Good moming.”

  She closed the lid of her laptop, her gaze never leaving me. “You’re here.”

  “I am, indeed.” I eyed the corners of the room, checking no new cameras had been installed overnight, and leaned in. “They stuck you with reception desk duty?”

  “What happened to my sandwich?”

  Was that code for what happened yesterday before everything went to

  hell, or was she actually curious? “A friend kept it in exchange for a

  favor.”

  “T see. Anyone I know?”

  “You might’ve seen him in passing,” ] answered cautiously. “But he doesn’t usually come to the Institute.”

  “Keep your friends away. This is a place of business.”

  “That’s not going to be a problem, since I no longer work here.” For now. If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that Aidan would reinstate me the instant we fixed this mess. “Speaking of which, how are…things?” I encompassed the room with a vague wave of my hand.

  She arched her eyebrows, giving me an I’m stuck behind the reception desk, how do you think things are? look. “Things are perfectly fine.”

  “The new interim director working out, t
hen?”

  “It might take time to get used to the change,” she answered dryly.

  An itch built between my shoulder blades. I squirmed uncomfortably. “So, the new guy is in for the long run?”

  Marta linked her hands over her laptop. “It appears things might

  continue this way for longer than expected.”

  “Aidan still with the Council, then?”

  “Director Greaves is unavailable at the moment, yes.”

  “And when do you think he’ll be back?”

  Irritation crossed her expression. Not at me, but at the situation. “Unknown at this time.”

  I tapped the counter. Nothing | hadn’t expected. “I bet there’s a lot for the new director to catch up to. Is Victor around?”

  “Reed is busy taking inventory of our assets.”

  That likely meant the vault. As far as 1 knew, Marta had no clue | had gotten away with the artifacts, although Aidan might’ve managed to tell her and Victor before being dragged away. “Alone?”

  “Lee is with him.”

  “Not you?”

  “You are observant.”

  “But you’ve worked here longer than Gabriel.”

  “The new director feels that despite my years working at the Institute, my skills need to be further developed before handling delicate magical artifacts,” she said in an icy tone.

  Yikes. “Old school, is he?”

  “He has a fondness for ancient lore, yes.”

  “And this assets inventory, is it limited to the items in the vault, or does it include places outside everyday use, the hard-to-reach ones?”

  Her gaze sharpened. “Only Director Greaves has access to certain parts of the Institute. Naturally, I expect those to take longer to inventory.”

  They hadn’t gotten into the inside vault yet, then. I nodded, re-lieved. “Marta.”

  “Dover.”

  “Why are we talking in code?”

  “Is there anything else you need?”

  I grinned. “I forgot my phone here yesterday.”

  She opened one of the drawers and set two things on top of the counter—my phone, and the little cactus my mom had given me as an office-warming present.