“Excuse me,” I interjected. “I’m the one who found the equipment. One of the summoning circles was used to set up a trap. When the trap went off, hellhounds attacked us.”
The necromancer turned to me, narrowing his eyes. “Hellhounds are faeries,” he said. “Not my area.”
“You aren’t concerned someone might have been trying to frame your necromancers?”
“Nobody cares,” he said. “Faeries are none of my business.”
What an absolute dickhead.
“Fine,” I said. “But don’t blame me if a hellhound decides to chew on your face next.”
Drake snickered behind me, covering it up with a fake cough.
Lord Colton stepped forward. “We suspect the perpetrator attempted to use blood necromancy. Several dead animals were found at the scene. Usually that’s a sign someone’s tried to summon a violent spirit, isn’t it?”
“I know my own branch of magic,” snapped the necromancer. “Most summoning circles drawn by amateurs are flat out wrong. All my necromancers are accounted for. They know the horrors hiding over the city’s veil, and I can assure you none of them would be foolish enough to attempt blood necromancy.”
I blinked. “Horrors?”
His piggy little eyes bored into mine. “The invasion took place not a mile from here. Why do you think we keep all these spirits caged? Nothing but death lies over the other side.”
“The veil,” I repeated. That’s where most people went when they died, but occasionally, one spirit was stuck here and decided to stir up trouble or get violent. Your standard ghosts and poltergeists. Due to the tight fences around the cemetery, spirit cases were rare in town. Instead, the necromancers charged a small fortune to anyone who wanted to say last goodbyes to dead loved ones, and spent the rest of the time walking around in their dark cloaks, being creepy.
The only requirement to join them was the ability to see spirits. Kind of like the Sight, but with dead people rather than faerie magic. Personally, I’d prefer to see ghosts than faeries, but if having spirit sight required hanging around this place, the necromancers could keep it.
“Your people pass through the veil all the time, do they not?” said Lord Colton.
“Yes, the first layer,” said the necromancer. “None are foolish enough to stray beyond. If your client wishes to hire me to extract a poltergeist, direct him to me and I’m more than happy to give him my rates. But I don’t think this is what’s happening. I think you’re trying to accuse me of treason.”
“I’m not accusing you,” said Lord Colton, his voice both steely and calm all at once. “Just trying to get to the bottom of this case. Your guild is involved, like it or not.”
“I beg to differ,” he said. “I have a summit to conduct tomorrow, and I have better things to concern myself with than paranoid mages.”
And he shut the door in our faces.
“Who pissed on his grave?” I asked in an undertone, earning an amused look from Lord Colton.
“What do you know of necromancy?” he asked me.
“Enough,” I said. “What he said about the veil—I thought all necromancers could walk into death. I didn’t realise there was a limit.”
“The invasion took a number of lives in a short time,” said Lord Colton. “I would guess those spirits were sent into a place nobody could reach them.”
Yeah. Like my parents. I kept my hands at my sides, clenching my fists to stop them shaking.
“So, I guess that’s it,” said Drake. “Unless we sneak back later, though I can’t say I’d like to face the necros after sundown.”
“No, we need to talk to the Climes family,” I said. “I can use another tracking spell and see if their daughter’s still here.” I’d left the changelings in the car, which probably hadn’t been the best idea, but I could hardly bring them up to the door to the necromancy guild.
“I already asked a witch to do it,” said Drake. “Didn’t know you were an expert in tracking.”
“Technically, my flatmate is,” I said. “Was the witch you hired called Isabel?”
“No, but I know the name. She’s second in line to the Laurel coven, isn’t she?”
Wow and wow again. A mage actually knew the titles of the local witches.
Lord Colton turned to me. “I doubt the tracking spell will work, given what happened last time.”
My shoulders slumped, but I looked him in the eyes. “Giving up, Lord Colton?”
“No. We need a new strategy,” he said. “We’ll take those changelings back. Whereabouts are Rod and Bailey?” he asked Drake.
“Combing the city, like they’ve been doing all day,” Drake responded. “Er, I should probably let them know we caught the changelings.”
“You mean you’ve had your people walking around looking for them all day when a simple witch’s spell trapped them in half a minute?” I asked, finding this absurdly funny. Not for the first time, it struck me that mages were surprisingly oblivious to magic outside of their immediate circle.
“Apparently,” said Drake.
“Witch spells are usually the most direct,” said Lord Colton, “but that doesn’t mean it’s the first idea we’d think of.”
Okay. I’d thought he didn’t possess an ounce of humility. Maybe I was wrong.
“So, back to Larsen’s,” I said. “How—”
A shout made me spin around. Drake ran towards the car, fire sparking from his hands.
Crap. The car door lay open, and the changelings had gone.
Chapter 9
I stood outside the hedge bordering on half-blood territory and drew in a breath. I’d never been to this part of town—at least, not beyond the boundaries. Just as I’d never walked into one of the necromancers’ graveyards or the witches’ coven meetings. It’s a matter of respect. But short of wandering around hoping I ran into a friendly half-blood on the street, my only option was to walk right into their home and hope they didn’t shoot at trespassers.
Seeing half-bloods that looked like Sidhe doing ordinary things like taking the bus and shopping messed with my head. Their ethereal beauty didn’t look like it belonged in this battered world. However, when I entered half-blood district, I saw how they’d adapted their surroundings to mimic Faerie. So much, I didn’t want to set foot in there.
I’d survived a dressing-down from Larsen for letting the changelings get away. I could get through this.
Behind the boundary of half-blood territory, golden sunlight shone from nowhere, though pale grey clouds smothered the sky where I stood. Hedges grew thick and green, surrounding a gate. Not metal, of course—the gate looked as though it might have grown out of the trees themselves, forming an elaborate pattern of branches. Beyond, I glimpsed fountains and decorated lawns, and impossibly bright flowers blooming at every corner.
The eerie part was the faint tinkling of faerie music. I wished I’d brought earplugs. I always hated that sound. Gripping my sword, I did my best to tune it out. Stupidly, I wished I wasn’t alone, but like hell would I bring Lord Colton here. He’d come too close to guessing my secret—close enough that any guess he came out with would put me in danger. It was too risky to spend any more time with him than I had to.
A tall figure jumped from the hedge and straightened up. Definitely a half-blood. Six feet tall, pale and silver-haired, he fit the changeling’s description so exactly I stared like an idiot for a moment.
The faerie gave me a frosty look. Now I saw the human in him—his ears were rounded, not pointed, and his face wasn’t perfectly symmetrical. Still, enough of him resembled a pure faerie to make me want to go for my weapon.
“Your name?” His voice rang in my ears like a melody. Ugh.
“Ivy,” I said. “I’m here to speak to…” I fumbled for the name. “Alain.”
The faerie whose beautification spell I’d recovered. That was the last time I’d helped a half-faerie, and I figured they’d be more amenable if I spoke to someone I’d done a favour. Maybe she’d seen some
thing, or knew someone who had. If the necromancers wouldn’t give us answers, maybe the half-bloods would.
“I know you,” said the guard. “You’re one of Larsen’s lackeys.”
Nice. “I’m self-employed,” I said, “and I’m here to talk to one of my former clients about a confidential matter.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed. “No iron in here. Leave your weapons there.” He pointed, and a hole formed in the side of the hedge. “Nobody will steal them.”
Damn. This went against all instinct, but I did have my magic. And I needed to get inside there. I gathered my daggers together with my sword—the faerie guard raised an eyebrow when I pulled the spare one out of my bra—and put them into the hole in the hedge. I felt naked without them, especially my sword. Poor Irene would have to cope without me for a bit.
“Can’t be too careful,” I said in explanation. “I take it your people won’t harm me?”
“I can’t make any promises,” he said.
Pleasant guy. I followed him through the carved gate and into a clearing. Birdsong filled the air, and a full-on assault on all my senses almost sent me running back for my weapons. The scent of a thousand flowers created an eye-watering perfume that stung my nostrils, while the cries of a thousand birds played in the background. Had to be a spell, because I didn’t see any birds behind the thick fields of flowers. Grassy lawns filled the remaining space, while a breeze brushed my skin like a caress, though not a gentle one.
“This is Seelie territory? Does Unseelie live somewhere else?”
“No,” said the faerie guard. “We have this one area as our territory.” There was an unspoken accusation in his voice. Why? Because his kind had been restricted to one territory? They hadn’t even lived here before the war.
“So you alternate between Summer and Winter?” I guessed, looking around at the ever-blooming bright flowers. Sure, it might look beautiful, but Summer hid its fangs behind sweet smiles. Winter showed their fangs for the world to see. I knew which I preferred.
Around the clearing were… houses. That’s how I’d describe them, though they ranged from ordinary blocks of flats to literal holes in the ground. Troll nests, probably. I’d checked the half-faerie’s address and it led to one of the flats, so I left the guard behind and wandered over that way.
My skin itched, both from the heat and from the insects. Piskies buzzed in my ears, the grating sound of faerie music punctuated the twittering of birdsong, and I ground my teeth together. It was like someone had plucked my definition of the ninth circle of hell from my head and thrown me into it. Bloody faeries.
I walked amongst the buildings until I found the right one, and rang the buzzer.
“I’m Ivy Lane, here to see Alain.”
A male voice replied. “You’re who?”
“I’m the consultant who helped find Alain’s missing beautification charm.”
The door opened, and an angry face peered out. Of course, being a faerie, the guy glaring at me looked inhumanly gorgeous, but still. “Why do you want to talk to her?”
Oh, crap. Her boyfriend? Most likely. Same as most faeries, he wore his hair long, while his features were sharp enough to give you a papercut. His eyes were chips of green glass, and he looked like he ought to be wearing medieval armour, not a T-shirt and jeans.
“Just to ask a couple of questions,” I said, pretending not to be discouraged by his unfriendliness. I gave him the abbreviated version of why I was here. Faeries took everything literally, so I made sure I didn’t sound accusing towards him, or any of the other half-faeries. God knew I’d had enough of accusations for one week.
“No. I haven’t seen anything,” was his only response.
Okay…
“I need to know if you’ve seen any shapeshifter faeries around here, or someone commanding them. Or someone with a… silver ash blade.” I trailed off as he stepped towards me. Man, the guy was a giant. I didn’t think faeries were made like that. Unless he had troll blood, which I seriously doubted. His face was like a work of art. But I found it the opposite of attractive.
“No swords here,” he said. “We don’t need them.”
Green light crackled around his hands. I resisted the urge to step back. “That’s not necessary,” I said. “I’m here investigating a child’s disappearance.”
“Human nonsense is none of our business.”
“A changeling told me he came from here.” I indicated the flowery bushes and tall, ancient-looking trees surrounding the block.
“You’re accusing me of stealing mortals?" His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“I’m not accusing you,” I said as calmly as possible. “I’m stating the facts. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice.”
Wrong thing to say. He threw the magic at me, forcing me to drop to the ground, shredded knees scraping against paving stone. Green light shot over my head and a wall of brambles sprang up where the magic struck. Summer magic.
“What the hell was that for?” I pushed to my knees, fighting a wince. I really needed to replace these jeans.
“A warning,” he said. “We don’t talk to humans here.”
“I did your girlfriend a favour,” I said, cursing myself for stripping off all my weapons off before entering. “I’m just asking for one in return.”
“We paid for your services already,” he said.
“Can’t I at least talk to her?”
He muttered under his breath. “Fine. Alain, this human bitch is here to see you.”
“How lovely,” I said, shooting him a glare. My fingers itched to conjure up some magic of my own, but he knew I was human, and that’d drag up questions I didn’t want to answer.
Alain came to the door. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. “What?”
I swallowed the impulse to ask what was wrong. “I wanted to know if you’d seen anything suspicious. There was an incident involving faerie magic being used to summon hellhounds.” I decided against mentioning somebody had used it to make changelings—I didn’t want to give the guy any ideas. “Has anyone used a particularly strong spell lately?"
“No.” She didn’t offer any more detail. Her gaze remained on the floor, her hair lank and greasy like she hadn’t bothered washing it. I guessed my attempts to convince her she didn’t need to use the spell had failed.
“Fuck off, then,” said Alain’s boyfriend. “We don’t want you here.”
“Charming to meet you, too.”
Without warning, a jet of icy water drenched me from behind like someone had switched on a shower above my head. Pulling sodden strands of hair out my eyes, I turned to see the water in the fountain behind me spilling over the edges.
I whirled to face Alain’s boyfriend. “Did you do that?”
In answer, he shut the door in my face. She didn’t even come to my defence. Of course not. Bloody half-faeries only looked out for their own kind.
A growl sounded behind me. Oh, shit. It sort of sounded like—a guard dog?
Or rather, a guard kelpie. The giant horse dragged its heavy body out of the fountain, sending a second spray of water into the air. Taloned claws dug into the now-drenched grass. Its eyes were like horizontal slashes, and it easily came up to my head.
“Oh shit.” I backed away, fetching up against the block’s door. I’d handed every one of my iron weapons over, and had nothing but a few sopping-wet spells hidden in the inside pockets of my coat. And salt, which only worked on dead things.
Idiot.
The horse leaped into the air, talons outstretched. I instinctively threw myself to the ground and rolled over, getting a second soaking for my trouble. I ducked into the building’s shadow and yelled for help.
Unsurprisingly, nobody showed up. I was only a human, way down on their priority list.
Hooves tapped on the path as the beast stalked towards me, huge head swinging. The creature’s skin was blue-black, its mane thick and soft. There was wild beauty in its movements, but I’d never b
een a horse person. And its teeth, when it opened its mouth, were like sharp white razors.
I’d backed against the wall. If I ran, it could jump fifteen feet and catch me.
The beast charged. I dodged to the side, my back catching against its hooves—it had moved fast enough to turn into a blur, and changed directions just as quickly so it didn’t collide with the wall. I jumped to my feet, digging into my pockets for—anything.
The kelpie waved a talon and a whip-like cord of water latched itself around my ankle, yanking me into the air. The contents of my pockets—spells, jars and all—fell to the ground and smashed. Blood rushed to my head as the summery garden swung around me. Wet hair hung around my face. I fought to free myself, but the whip—whatever it was—gripped like an iron cuff.
Teeth closed around my other ankle, and I screamed.
Before the teeth could chomp down, the beast’s feet slipped out from underneath it. I fell, landing in a rolling movement on instinct and skidding to a halt on the grass.
The kelpie howled, flailing. It had walked into whatever I’d dropped from my pockets, and something hurt it. Wait. I’d carried a jar of iron filings in there as a backup plan. Small amounts of iron weren’t painful, but coupled with broken glass and the kelpie’s feet were torn up.
So was my ankle. I got to my feet, wincing, as the kelpie leaped over my head in one smooth motion. It disappeared into the fountain, and a final wave of water crashed over my head. I spluttered and gasped, eyes stinging, but the faerie horse didn’t reappear.
I groaned, brushing sodden hair from my face and checked the damage. Its teeth had pierced the skin and the wound already itched like crazy.
“You total dick!” I screamed at the flat door. “I hope your beauty spell gives you both hives.”
Alain’s face appeared in the window and she mouthed something at me. I moved closer, my ankle throbbing with each step.
“What?” I snapped.
“I saw something,” she whispered.
“You saw—the missing kids?”
“No. But someone came here. The Lady of the Tree. She’s one of the most powerful ancient Summer faeries in this part of the country. She lives in the Old Oak in Pleasance Park, but she rarely leaves. If she’s moving, it means some magical disturbance caught her attention.”
Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1) Page 9