Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  Before I could respond, she’d closed the window.

  Okay. So I had a clue. Anger still burned inside my veins as I hobbled across the lawn to the exit. First, I’d get my weapons back. Then, I’d see what this Lady of the Tree might know. But like hell was I ever walking into a faerie’s lair unarmed again.

  By the time I’d limped home, my ankle was bleeding worse than ever. Luckily, Isabel had left the insta-dry spell on the threshold because of the rain last week, so once I walked into the building, all the water immediately vanished from my clothes. Sometimes living with a witch was kind of awesome. I unlocked the flat door, hobbling inside on one leg.

  Isabel raised an eyebrow. “What happened this time?”

  “Faeries.” I spat out the word like a curse. “I’ve had bloody enough of them.”

  “You’re bloody enough,” she commented, looking at my ankle. “I’ll get a healing salve.”

  “You’re incredible, you know that?” I limped into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. Isabel was rarely fazed by my tendency to get injured at least once a week.

  One healing salve and a microwaveable meal later and I felt slightly less like death. I watched Isabel set up her latest batch of spells while waiting for the healing to kick in. Our version of home entertainment. She didn’t want a TV, and I found they made me jumpy as hell on bad days anyway. Having a piskie flying around was enough.

  “You stink of kelpie,” Erwin informed me.

  “That’s because one tried to take a bite out of me,” I said. “Have you ever heard of the Lady of the Tree?”

  “The Lady of the Tree?” He spoke in a reverent tone. “She’s the wisest of Summer’s faeries.”

  “Summer, huh.” I’d never had reason to really think about the distinctions between Seelie and Unseelie—all faeries in this realm were unpredictable anyway. If a faerie had been behind the disappearances, which realm had it come from? Might Summer or Winter be involved? Not that I could do anything if they were. And where I’d been in Faerie didn’t fit into the usual rules.

  It killed me, having to contact Swanson again and tell him I still didn’t have any new leads. I wasn’t about to walk into faerie territory again while bleeding like this, so I’d have to delay until my ankle fully healed. All I had was a nebulous clue and a name. A faerie. Considering the way my luck was going, I couldn’t count on this Lady of the Tree, however wise, knowing about the disappearances either.

  My phone buzzed again as soon as I’d reached the sofa after setting it down on the coffee table, and I hesitated before getting up. As I’d already called Swanson, it must be either Larsen or the landlord, neither of whom I particularly wanted to talk to.

  Isabel got there first. “Since when did you have the Mage Lord’s number?”

  What? “I don’t,” I said, taking the phone from her. “He doesn’t have mine either… Larsen. I’m going to kill him.”

  “Who’s on your hit list next?” asked Vance Colton. I’d hit the ‘accept call’ button while still speaking.

  “Larsen.” I pressed the phone to my ear. “He should know better than to give out my number to strange men.”

  “Strange men? I’m insulted. I think you know me quite well by now,” he said. “What are you doing?”

  Er… “I’m at home.” No reason to mention my little excursion.

  “Come to the manor.”

  “Was there a ‘please’ in there somewhere?”

  “Please do me the honour of coming to the manor. I’ve left you alone for a day, which means you’ve likely got yourself into trouble.”

  “He’s got a point,” said Isabel, who was listening in.

  I sighed. “Right, fine. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  Chapter 10

  Lord Colton didn’t answer the door this time. A young woman dressed in secretary-style work gear did, and gave me a friendly smile that disconcerted me a little.

  “You’re Ivy, are you?” she asked. “I’m Wanda. It’s been a while since we’ve had any new blood here.”

  Speaking of blood, my ankle had finally stopped bleeding, though blood stained my ankle and covered my left boot. Wanda, however, didn’t seem to notice. She must be one of his staff, but it threw me that there was nothing magical about her appearance. I’d expected everyone here to walk around in cloaks like Harry Potter extras.

  “Is Lord Colton waiting for me?”

  “He’s in there.” She pointed at a door at the corridor’s end.

  I walked along, wondering why he hadn’t invited me into his office. The answer became obvious when I passed by the door to the room we’d spoken in last time. At least five people stood inside, looking like they waited in line. Wanting to speak to him? What was he doing, holding out on them?

  I opened the door at the end of the corridor. To my surprise, it led into an open conservatory which looked out across bright green lawns. Not as bright as the ones on half-blood territory, but the garden looked well-tended, with flowerbeds Isabel would be proud of and hedges carved into animal shapes around the edges. A grand piano sat in the corner of the conservatory, and a number of potted plants were scattered around the polished floor. I stopped. After my latest escape, I expected to find faeries hiding in every corner.

  Nearby, Lord Colton spoke into his phone, giving some kind of order. As usual. How many mages did he command? Had to be at least fifty. He was responsible for the whole region. This house must be their main headquarters, but it didn’t look as though many other mages were present. Otherwise someone would be back there, dealing with his visitors.

  He saw me and nodded. “Yes, I’ll speak to him later. I’ve got a client bleeding all over my floor.”

  Bleeding? Oh, shit. I’d left bloody footprints all the way from the door.

  “What did you do?” he asked. “I spoke to you five minutes ago. You can’t have been attacked already.”

  “You called me when I was in the middle of healing up,” I said. “No chance to wash my shoes.”

  Technically I did have time, but I wasn’t used to walking into fancy places like this. Larsen didn’t care if I got blood everywhere when I walked into the clean-up guild.

  “Quentin, please clean the blood from the floor,” he said.

  A short figure popped out from behind a plant pot, barely up to my knees. His tanned, knobbly skin made me recoil.

  “Faerie,” I hissed.

  “I’d kindly ask you not to insult my assistant,” said Lord Colton, putting his phone away. Or rather, pushing it at thin air, where it promptly vanished.

  “What? Me or him?”

  The faerie bristled, glaring at me with beady bird-like eyes.

  “Quentin here is my assistant.”

  “You have a faerie slave?”

  “Slave?” Quentin looked insulted.

  Lord Colton eyed me. “I thought you knew about faeries. Brownies have a compulsion to clean houses—well, any building. If I didn’t tell him to, he’d do it anyway. Once they’ve moved into a home, they see themselves as guests of whoever lives there.”

  “And that’s not exploitative?” Sure, I knew brownies, but I’d never have pictured one in a place like this.

  “Not if I give him the choice in the matter. Quentin, you can leave.”

  The faerie looked up briefly, shrugged, and carried on cleaning.

  I blinked. “That seems… wrong.”

  “He does as he wishes. Not unlike yourself. Did I hear you were poking around the half-blood district?”

  Dammit. He’d probably had people tailing me. “Yes. They’re the closest to the faeries, so I figured they’d know if anyone decided to pop over here for a visit.”

  “And did they?”

  “No clue. They won’t listen to reason, and one of them sent a kelpie to take a bite out of me.”

  “You’re good at making enemies, aren’t you?”

  I glared at him. “You try reasoning with a half-blood. It’s like expecting common sense from a troll.”<
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  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Perhaps. I’ve spoken with half-bloods before and found them amenable, but perhaps they’re more respectful of authority figures.”

  He did not just say that. “Wish I’d called you first. See how you like getting chewed on by a kelpie.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re giving me that look again.”

  “What? Like I’m about to skewer you?”

  “You look more like you’re pouting.”

  “I don’t pout.” What game was he playing this time? “You know there are people in your office waiting to talk to you, right?”

  “Unfortunately,” he said.

  “What, isn’t that your job?” I’d thought he was dedicated to his work. Obsessively so, even.

  “We’ve dealt with all the priority cases today,” he said. “These are people asking for favours. It’s our policy to help any mage who needs assistance, but there are always those who take advantage.”

  “Because they can afford it?” I sure as hell couldn’t. Even if someone blew my house up in a magical explosion, I’d have to go to Larsen for help.

  Ugh. Larsen. I repressed a shudder. He’d screamed the place down when I’d admitted to losing the changelings, and told me not to set foot inside the mercenary guild again until I’d caught them. Unfortunately, I’d used every last drop of changeling blood in the last tracking spell, so the odds of finding them again were needle-in-a-haystack low.

  Larsen could wait. Finding those kids was more important.

  Lord Colton frowned at me. “Our rates aren’t extortionate. Your boss underpays you.”

  I snorted. “You tell him that. In fact, you’re welcome to. He’s pinned the blame for the changelings’ escape on me and demanded I bring them in.”

  “What?”

  Dammit. Why the hell had I told him? Every piece of information I gave him could be used against me. He was an asshat, but he seemed to have got over the accusing stage by now.

  I shrugged. “I’ll handle it. Once we’re done with this case.”

  “He’s asked you to bring the changelings back?”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m all out of blood for tracking spells.” That’s enough, Ivy. “Never mind. You were saying you always have to deal with people coming here and asking questions. Do you ever leave this place?”

  “I live here,” he said, indicating the open conservatory.

  “Wait, this is your house?” I stared around at the fancy furnishings. Damn. From outside, I’d guessed the place had at least twenty rooms. Maybe more. Surely too many for one person. “You live alone?”

  “I inherited the house from my parents.”

  “Really? So they’re dead?”

  “They were killed fighting the Sidhe in the invasion.”

  Well, crap. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry wouldn’t cut it, seeing as it’d come out insincerely. “But you only became leader of the mages this year, right?”

  “The house has been open to all mages since my father’s time,” he said. “This was originally a place of shelter before the invasion. Mages often aren’t able to easily hide their abilities the way witches can, and have the potential to be a danger both to themselves and to each other. Safe houses like this were set up to alleviate the risk.”

  Oh. I’d assumed the mages were exclusionary because they thought themselves on a higher tier than anyone else in the supernatural community—admittedly, the mages had done nothing to mitigate that assumption until recently.

  “So there are others here?”

  “Not at the moment. Aside from yourself, Wanda and Quentin. I think you scared Ralph away.”

  “I wasn’t that bad. He does look like a faerie. No teenage boy has skin that clear.”

  Lord Colton looked at me with amusement in his eyes. “You’re a menace,” he said. “He’s quarter-blooded—three quarters human, one quarter faerie. He never met his faerie ancestors. His mage side came out on top, as it usually does.”

  “That can happen? You’re partly shifter… right? I saw during the fight with the hellhounds.”

  His expression was unreadable. “Quarter-blooded, yes.”

  Hmm. Again, I kept forgetting what Henry had said… that the Mage Lord’s shifter blood belonged to the most powerful branch of shapeshifter. Right now, I couldn’t tell. Then again, most shifters were indistinguishable from normal humans, at least until they transformed. Though normal wouldn’t be the first word that came to mind when I thought about Vance Colton.

  “Er. I know a family of shifters,” I said. “They live in the upstairs flat. That’s why I wondered.” I didn’t quite have the courage to mention Henry had sniffed him out. I wanted to keep the Mage Lord as far away from my home life as humanly possible.

  He tilted his head. “You live near shifter territory, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Do you have family over there?”

  He paused before saying, “Not that I talk to on a regular basis. Are you faerie-blooded?”

  The question was so unexpected, I gaped at him for a good thirty seconds. Alarm rang through me. What did I do? Had I given myself away? I hadn’t—at least, I thought not—but why the hell would he ask are you faerie-blooded like it was as ordinary as asking, is it raining outside?

  Clenching my sweaty hands at my sides, I said, “No. Why?”

  “The changeling called you a faerie.”

  “More like a faerie killer.” Come on. I wasn’t unattractive, but even quarter-blooded fey looked more faerie than human, if his security guard proved anything. “I’m not a faerie.”

  He couldn’t see my magic. But his stare burned through me, and I looked away from his eyes. Don’t go there. As Mage Lord, he had grounds to be suspicious of me. I was lucky the question hadn’t come up sooner.

  To change the subject, I asked, “What about the missing kids, then? Got any other leads?”

  “Have you?”

  I hesitated. I wanted to go it alone. This crap was way too dangerous to drag Isabel into, and she was the only person I’d trust to walk with me into the faeries’ territory. If I was forced to leave my weapons behind again, though, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone with me who could grab a sword out of nowhere.

  “After setting the kelpie loose, one of them took pity on me and said they saw this ‘Lady of the Tree’ walking around,” I said. “Apparently she hardly leaves her own territory, so it might be a sign of a power shift. Or something. It’s all I’ve got, anyway.”

  “Whereabouts?” he asked.

  “Pleasance Park.”

  He nodded. “Very well. I’ll see to my clients, and then we’ll leave.”

  And that was that. With nothing better to do, I walked back to the entrance, where Wanda still waited in the reception area.

  “Hey,” she said. “Is the Mage Lord finally dealing with those people?"

  “Yes, he is,” I said. “Are they really asking for favours, or is he just trying to get out of work?”

  “I think he wants to prioritise the missing person’s case,” she said. “He hates that we’ve made no progress at all. It makes us look bad.”

  “I’m the one who originally signed up to investigate,” I said. “And I haven’t got too far either.”

  Aside from some useless clues and a sore ankle, I had nothing. And it bugged the hell out of me. I was good at my job. Not least thanks to Isabel’s spells. They always worked. And there were lives at stake. Not only had I messed up, I’d let three changelings escape and potentially put my job in jeopardy. Worry for the missing kids aside, my future looked like a line of dominoes ready to collapse. If I failed the case, more kids would be taken. Whoever was behind the kidnappings would walk free. I’d lose my job, and Isabel and I would lose our flat and become homeless.

  Yeah. Things were as bleak as the underside of a troll’s foot.

  “What’s he like to work with?” I asked Wanda, to take my mind off my own failings.

  “Lord Colton? He’s good at his job.�
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  “I mean, personally,” I said. “I was under the impression you didn’t work with witches, yet he hired me for this case.” I also wanted to ask if he regularly spoke to business partners the way he’d spoken to me.

  “For him to take a personal interest means he thinks the entire magical and supernatural community may be affected,” she said.

  “Really?” I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the way he and the necromancer had almost blown up at one another. It still didn’t explain his personal interest in the case—and in me. “I thought he only dealt with cases people paid him for.”

  “Technically, the money goes to our Guild. This case, though… it’s odd. I’ve never seen him go to this much trouble before.”

  Hmm. “This is a rarity? Doesn’t he deal with magical cases personally?”

  “As many as he can, but one person can’t be in seven places at once. I get the impression he would be, if he could. He has a protective streak a mile wide, and he dislikes sending his people into danger.”

  That, I hadn’t expected. “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “Why is that a surprise?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. You guys always struck me as…” Self-centred. Exclusionary. Probably not a good idea to use either of those terms. “I mean, he’s not exactly the friendliest of people. He and the leader of the necromancers got into an argument. Does that happen often?”

  “Every other Tuesday,” she said. “I joke, but the necromancers are awful people. All they care about is watching the veil, not this realm. The faeries could invade again and they’d lock themselves in their own basement and look the other way.”

  Huh? “They did that last time?”

  “Essentially. When it became clear some serious cleaning up was needed, the Mage Lords persuaded them to come out and help. I was young at the time, so I don’t remember.”

  “So you’re a mage, then?” I asked, to take my mind off the sudden surge of anger that lanced through me. The necromancers had looked the other way while my parents died.