Nobody did. The mages had retreated into the manor and closed the door on my screams, leaving me alone, burning on the outside, icy cold on the inside, with faerie blood on my hands.
Ten years. Only three had passed for me. My family was dead. The changeling who’d replaced me was missing. And I’d had nothing left.
Another ten years later and the manor looked exactly the same. Trimmed hedges lined the path, and the usual wrought-iron fence kept out any intruders who weren’t put off by all the glowing wards. I hovered outside, not seeing any way to knock. Did I have to stand here until someone came to find me?
A man appeared from the shadows, quiet as a ghost. He hardly looked older than twenty, his smile disconcertingly inhuman. Nobody I knew had teeth that perfectly even and white. His smooth dark hair flowed to shoulder length, his eyes like ice blue chips. Nobody I knew had eyes that unnatural bright shade, either, unless he wore contacts.
“Your licence?”
“Back off, faerie.” Did the mages employ faerie guards? I’d thought they had nothing to do with the Sidhe. But this guy sure as hell wasn’t pure human.
The dazzling smile disappeared as his jaw tensed. “I’m no faerie. Give me your licence.”
“I have an invitation from your leader, the esteemed Lord Colton,” I said. “And believe me, I don’t want to be here.”
“Then leave,” he said. “Don’t talk about my boss that way.”
“I’ve been ordered to come here,” I said, standing my ground. No magic surrounded him, but he was definitely fey. I moved so he could see the sword at my waist.
Suddenly, a knife was in his hand. “Back off, witch,” he said.
I stepped towards him. “Try me, faerie.”
“I’m not—”
“What is going on here?” Vance Colton appeared behind the gate, which creaked open as though he’d given it a verbal command. He didn’t wear the long coat this time, but a tailored shirt and trousers. “Ralph, step aside.”
The faerie boy shot me one final glare and moved behind me to stand guard at the gate’s side.
“Ivy,” said Lord Colton. “I hoped you’d see sense.”
I gritted my teeth to stop myself digging a deeper hole, and followed him through the gate.
“Your pretty faerie guard pulled a knife on me.” This place was even more upper-class than I remembered, with elaborate hedge cuttings in the shapes of animals and even a tinkling fountain in the middle of the immaculate lawn. Curling magical glyphs decorated the walls. Mages didn’t need runes to cast spells or even set up wards. The decorations were for show, like everything else.
“Faerie?” Lord Colton frowned at me over his shoulder. “If you mean Ralph, don’t say that to his face. You aren’t scaring away my assistants, are you?”
“If they’re running scared from me, there’s something wrong with your system.”
“There’s no reason to be so hostile,” he said, walking to the doorstep. “I’m offering you a favour.”
“By threatening to take away my livelihood.” Like I’d let him play word games with me now. “I took on the case first. You turned it down.”
“Before I knew magic was involved.” He pushed the door open and beckoned me into the hallway.
“Faeries,” I corrected. “I’ll bet you don’t know the difference between a boggart and a brownie.” I hesitated before following. The manor repelled me. But what choice did I have?
“If you’re an expert, tell me the name of the species that attacked us yesterday,” he said. I couldn’t see anything ominous behind him, so I walked into the thickly carpeted hall.
“Hellhounds,” I said. “Faerie dogs.”
He gave a brief nod that might have meant approval coming from anyone else, and led the way down the hall. “I wasn’t aware witches were experts on faeries.”
If he was trying to probe me for information, I wouldn’t fall for the ruse. We reached an office panelled in cherry wood, and he moved behind a desk. Sunlight filtered through the drapes onto the smart bookcases and filing cabinets. A typical office. Mundane.
“So the rumours weren’t true,” I said. At least, there didn’t seem to be any troll heads anywhere so far.
“Rumours?”
“The shifters say you keep the heads of the trolls you’ve killed hanging on the walls. Unless they’re in a hidden room somewhere. Like the Bluebeard story.”
Could I picture him butchering people and storing them in cupboards? Maybe. After what Henry had said, that the aura of a supremely powerful shifter was almost overpowering, I’d kind of expected to sense it myself. However, though the Mage Lord’s personality might be grating, I didn’t get the scary vibe I’d had before. Standing before him like this made me remember being called to the head teacher’s office at school for a minor incident. More annoying than scary.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Really? That’s a new one.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if you did. If you’re about to pull out that weapon of yours and decapitate me, I’d like to be forewarned.”
“You think I’m going to kill you?”
I considered this. “No, but I’d be ready if you tried.”
He laughed this time. “I hate to disappoint you. I had no idea my reputation was so dire.”
Had to be a lie, right? Too bad he, unlike faeries, could lie whenever the hell he wanted. “The first time I saw you, you were threatening someone with a sword because they wanted you to find their missing kid.”
His smile faded. “You were there? In the Singing Banshee?”
Oh crap. “Yes.” No point in hiding it.
“Every hour, about thirty people show up here trying to convince me to use magic to solve their problems,” said Lord Colton. “If I accepted all those cases, I’d have no time to keep the city safe. As for Swanson, his teenage son has run away five times before, with no magical involvement.”
“So you scared him into running straight to me.”
“Clearly,” he said. “Does that answer your questions? As for the rumours, you carry a reputation of your own. You single-handedly knocked out a bridge troll two days ago, didn’t you?”
Shit. Don’t tell me he’s called my boss. I’d never hear the end of it if he had. “Yes. Now, can you tell me why you felt the need to threaten my livelihood? I’ve accepted this case already.”
“You aren’t registered as a magical practitioner, for a start. This case may require spellwork to solve.”
“I live with the second most powerful witch in the local coven,” I said. “She’s doing the spellwork. I do the investigating.”
“How long have you been working as a consultant?”
“Five years,” I said. “Longer than you’ve been in this position, I’m told. I’ve solved over a dozen missing child cases.”
“Changelings?”
Goddammit. I glared at him to cover up the creeping sensation that crawled down my spine at the very mention of the word. The one changeling case I’d been involved in, I’d been the victim, and nobody had solved the crime.
“No,” I said. “But I’ve dealt with faeries before.”
“Your full name’s Ivy Lane, right?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Before I form an agreement with somebody, I need to know certain information.”
“Who said anything about an agreement?”
“Larsen. He’s your employer, so I had to obtain permission from him to work with you.”
“The treacherous bastard,” I muttered. Figured he’d been behind this. That’d explain why he was so pissed with me earlier, too. He hated the mages, though he’d never turn down an offer from their leader. I wondered if the Mage Lord had pulled the uber-scary act on him.
Actually, I wouldn’t mind seeing that.
“He’s your boss, isn’t he?” asked Lord Colton. “He told me you’ve worked for him for ten years, since you were sixteen. That’s awfully young to be a killer.”
“It’s the legal working age, isn’t it?” I’d become a killer because I’d had no choice. I didn’t want him to know about my money issues. “You might have noticed we live in a dangerous world.”
“Fair point.” He looked me up and down, though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what he was assessing me for this time. “You’re certainly qualified for this job, but it’s required by law for the Mage Lords to intervene if magic is involved in any capacity.”
“Fine,” I said, through gritted teeth. “I get the compensation from Swanson. He offered the job to me first.”
“That seems adequate,” he said. “I should warn you, however, that if I think you’re endangering anyone—particularly using magic—I have licence to take any props you own away from you.”
I gaped at him for a moment. Probably, I should have laughed—it was physically impossible for him to remove the magic from me. He assumed I was using hedge witch tricks. Thank god mages thought witches beneath them, because at least then he wouldn’t poke further.
Or would he? If he found out the truth… maybe he’d lock me up in jail. Or a lab. Neither seemed an appealing option.
He looked at me expectantly. I scrambled for a reply. “That seems adequate.”
His eyes glittered with something like amusement. “This is going to be interesting.”
Cocky bastard. “You got your wish. Now you’d better follow through on your end of the bargain. I need the money. I’ll bet you don’t.” I looked pointedly at the chair’s fancy furnishings, the embossed bookcases—hell, everything in the room stank of money and privilege. I felt like a gnome at a house party in my tattered jeans and top with one too many holes in the sleeves.
I made myself stand taller. “Believe it or not, I’m good at my job,” I told him. “But I’m not your employee. You can’t order me around or make me play by your rules.”
“That remains to be seen,” he said. “Your skills. Tell me about them.”
“You don’t get my life story,” I said. “You just get my expertise.” I was bluffing… kind of. I’m a walking survival story, not a war hero. But he didn’t have to know. “I can use any spell. I specialise in tracking.”
“Anyone can buy a tracking spell from the market.”
“And half of them are duds. My flatmate and I make them from scratch. And I’m good at killing things.”
His gaze dropped to my jacket, which bore the bloodstains from yesterday. “Evidently.”
“Faeries,” I elaborated. “I’m good at killing faeries. And I’d say whoever set up the hellhound trap is in need of a friendly chat with my blade.”
Lord Colton’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Well, if you’re so certain,” he said, “let’s begin.”
Let’s begin. Right. Talk about dramatic. I almost returned his smirk, but I’d pushed my luck by mocking him already. “Fine,” I said. “As you’ve probably gathered, my last attempt to find the changeling triggered a trap and set those hellhounds loose. The Swansons’ house is clear, but I’d rather use the tracking spells in an uninhabited area, just in case.”
“The changeling,” he said. “What does it look like?”
“I don’t know.” He gave me a condescending look, like he was any kind of expert. “Changelings are shapeshifter faeries,” I explained. “They’re by and large vicious and stupid. That’s how they get coerced or persuaded into impersonating humans. But it’s their masters you want to watch out for.”
Except those spells set up in the Swansons’ son’s room didn’t look like the work of an idiot. No, it was calculated. By whom, I couldn’t say.
“Masters,” said Lord Colton. “The kidnappers. Fey?”
“Without exception,” I said. “They wouldn’t be working with humans.”
“I thought not,” said Lord Colton.
A likely story. “Sure you didn’t,” I said. “Want to come and hold the spell while I lure out a changeling?”
“Hold the spell?”
I gave him my most charming smile. “It’s nice to have an assistant sometimes.”
“Assistant?”
“You don’t have to repeat every word I say, Sir.”
His eyes narrowed and he grunted. “I’m starting to doubt your expertise.”
“More like starting to regret tying me down,” I said. “I work better alone. This is the best you’re going to get.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’m putting a call through to the other Mage Lords, letting them know there might be rogue faeries loose in the city.”
I bristled. “I can handle—”
He’d already pulled a phone from his pocket. I moved towards the door, fidgeting. I wanted out of here. Did he have to inform his underlings whenever he went anywhere?
The Mage Lord gave a few incomprehensible orders, then hung up the phone. “That’s taken care of. We have backup on standby.”
“Oh, good,” I said. “Nice to know you have faith in me.”
“Do you frequently walk out with no backup?”
“You’re the backup.” I hitched my smile back into place. “I did say I could do my job.”
His brows rose. Probably, it had been a while since anyone stood up to him. Well, he was head of the Mage Lords, and as far as I could tell, that meant loaded, arrogant, and surrounded by fawning admirers. Okay, I hadn’t seen much in the way of the latter… yet.
“We’re partners,” he said. “That makes it our job, not just yours. The other Lords can step in and intervene if need be.”
“You won’t need to.” Sure, if shit really hit the fan, we’d probably need as much help as we could get—but I didn’t need all the mages figuring out my ties to the faeries. As long as Lord Colton proved more of a help than a hindrance, I’d let him in on this. If not, I’d take off on my own, as I always did.
“You seem certain,” he commented. “The reserve team consists of two fire mages, one frost mage, two kinetics and an empath. Would your skills be sufficient enough to make up for that?”
Damn him for trying to goad me into confiding the extent of my abilities. I glared at him instead.
“Depends if your skills are up to scratch.”
The mage bared his teeth in a grin. “My skills are more than sufficient, I think you’ll find.” His tone slid over me, unexpectedly seductive, and sent my thoughts right into the gutter. I fought to keep from blushing. The gleam in his eye told me he knew exactly the effect he’d had.
What in the hell was the matter with me? Ever since my… bad experiences with faeries, I’d developed an aversion to males who fell into the category of ‘pretty’ or showed any signs they might have faerie blood. This guy, though…‘pretty’ was not a word I’d use to describe him. Unless in the phrase, ‘pretty scarily attractive.’
Nope. Not going there. I shut the thoughts down and gave him a Look. “We’ll see about that.”
I marched ahead down the corridor, and I swore I heard him laughing at me as he locked his office.
What have I got myself into?
Chapter 7
I called Swanson as we left the Mage Lords’ house to let him know we were tracking the changeling. I didn’t say where. I’d rather avoid him getting involved in this any further. He’d had a damn close call, and the idea that the hellhounds had attacked him at home made me certain the faeries weren’t done with his family yet. It’d be downright irresponsible to perform the tracking spell there.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t go to one of my usual haunts, because of the obvious presence of the Mage Lord, who walked down the drab streets like he expected red carpets to unfurl themselves before him. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His black coat made him stick out like a troll amongst humans, only with considerably more visual appeal. I’d planned to go behind the scenes, but then again, the faeries might think twice about attacking me when they saw him. As much as I hated to admit it.
Though he didn’t appear to have any weapons on him, his coat’s deep pockets might h
ide anything. More than that, though—his whole manner radiated power. Even without the sword. He moved like a guy who could deck you with one punch, and projected an aura of absolute confidence that made me feel like a kid stumbling on her first day at school. I kept my head high, refusing point-blank to give ground. Equals or not, the job was mine.
“Whereabouts did you plan to perform the spell?” he asked.
“Preferably as far from anywhere inhabited as possible.” But also within a fair distance of the Ley Line, otherwise the spell wouldn’t work at all. This was a large part of the reason few people left the town—it was Supernatural Central, no matter how many people had died here in the invasion. Made it difficult to use spells without drawing attention, too, because the line amplified everyone’s magic. Everyone but the mages, who had their own internal power sources.
Lord Colton indicated one of the nondescript black cars parked near the manor. “I can drive us.”
I snorted. “Yeah, if I wanted to advertise myself, I’d have you conjure fire and lightning over my head. Trust me, the faeries are smart. If they see the pair of us zooming around in one of your cars, we won’t have a hope in hell of catching up to the changeling. Those little bastards move fast.”
“Very well,” he said, surprising me. “What, pray tell, is your exact plan?”
“I track the changeling, then set up a trap to lure it in.” Okay, it sounded better in my head.
“A trap.” Scepticism tinged his voice. “I thought you knew all about the faeries. Does that include changelings?”
I looked away, annoyed at the way my skin grew cold and my chest tightened at the mention of the word.
“I know of them. Like I said, they’re shapeshifters, so I’ll try using the method I’d use on a different shapeshifting fey first. Then I have alternatives.”
“I take it the changeling was the one who set a trap yesterday?” I felt his gaze boring into me. He knew I’d covered up, somehow—I was sure of it. Hell, maybe Larsen had told him about me showing up at the office with necromantic equipment. Swanson, thankfully, had disposed of the dead rats himself.
Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1) Page 6