Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Yes, I’m a frost mage apprentice.” She smiled. “I’m told you’re a talented witch.”

  “Who told you that? Drake?” I doubted it—he’d never seen me use magic. But the mages’ leader had shown me nothing but disrespect.

  “Lord Colton, of course. He said your tracking spell’s the best he’s seen.”

  Oh. Figures. “My friend made it,” I said. “Didn’t think the guy handed out compliments. He seems to strongly dislike me.” Judging by the way he’d instantly accused me of foul play when he’d found out I’d covered up those spells I’d taken from the Swansons’ house, anyway.

  Unless he showed different sides of himself to different people. Which made him dangerous. Untrustworthy.

  Intriguing, some part of me said. I paid it no notice.

  “Are you ready?” asked a deep voice behind me. Lord Colton. The people he’d been speaking to had presumably left through another exit, because the three of us were alone in the reception area.

  “Yeah.” I glanced at Wanda, but she didn’t seem cowed by the Mage Lord. So I guess he didn’t intimidate his staff if they could speak openly to me about him. Right. If we get a chance to talk later, I have a few more questions.

  “I haven’t heard back from any of the others patrolling the town,” he said. “I suppose we’d better follow your lead, since it’s the best we’ve got.”

  “Way to give me a backhanded compliment,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  He shrugged. “You yourself said it’s an unlikely source. I’ve sent a mage ahead to scout, so he’ll let us know if the coast is clear.”

  I eyed him. “Probably won’t be, if you show up wearing that fancy coat. Every faerie in town will know something big’s happening.”

  He frowned. “I’ll leave the coat behind.”

  I grinned. Score one for me.

  Chapter 11

  Lord Colton joined me at the door within five minutes. Even unarmed and without his coat, he still looked irritatingly authoritative. I had to face it: we’d draw attention wherever we went. I wore a torn-up pair of jeans and a long-sleeved top stained to the elbows in what had once been redcap entrails—a souvenir from my second least favourite job. The Mage Lord, on the other hand, had attempted to dress casually in plain black, but his clothes were obviously tailored and expensive-looking.

  “You’re staring,” he said. “Do I meet your approval?”

  “If you’re asking for fashion advice, I’m not your girl.” I indicated my torn-up, stained clothes. “Does everything you wear come with a dirt-repelling charm?”

  “Quentin usually puts one on to stop me from leaving mud on the carpet.”

  “Ah.” I looked away, because apparently I couldn’t trust my eyes to stop lingering on the way his shirt showed off his muscled arms and broad shoulders. “Right. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  “I’m flattered that you’re so delighted to spend time with me.”

  “Please. You give yourself too much credit. As I said, I’m using you as a backup system should things get ugly out there.”

  “Are you always this polite to your colleagues?” he asked.

  “Nah, you made it onto my special list.” And you’re one to talk. I clamped my mouth shut and pushed open the door.

  One of the mages’ black cars had already pulled up outside the gates. I didn’t recognise the driver this time around. Lord Colton climbed into the front, leaving me alone in the back.

  “Where’s Drake?” I asked as the car rumbled to life.

  “Patrolling,” he said. “We’ve got everyone on the lookout for those changelings.”

  Damn. The changelings… They’d been taken. But by whom? And why? Someone had put a spell on them to stop them talking, but it didn’t mean someone smarter than me couldn’t get the information out of them. The person who’d taken them might have been the one who set them free in the first place. Just to clean up loose ends.

  Unease prickled up my spine. Maybe I ought to have asked Isabel to come along. She was the best at tracking, after all. Hell, if I’d asked Isabel to help me find the first changeling rather than running off with the mage, she might have been able to find a way to get answers from it herself. There were certainly ways of extracting information or even undoing spells like that tongue-tying charm. Though if a Sidhe had done it, maybe not. Faerie and witch magic were different entities. One wouldn’t necessarily counteract the other.

  “You look like you’re thinking hard,” Lord Colton said from the front. Must have seen my reflection in the wing mirror.

  “Trying to work out what possible traps we might run into,” I said.

  “Pleasance Park isn’t listed as belonging to a particular group,” he said. “It’s more or less abandoned, actually.”

  “Makes sense that the faeries stepped in, then,” I said. Faeries flocked to places where nature had reclaimed the land from humans. After the war, there was no shortage of such areas. One reason I preferred the city to the countryside. But faeries, as I’d learned the hard way, adapted easily—certainly better than humans would have adapted to living in their realm. Then again, faeries were immortal.

  I ran through my inventory. I was running low after losing all the spells I’d carried into half-blood territory, but Isabel had started on another batch of explosives to pick up when I went home. For now, my iron weapons were my best bet. Irene rested at my side, ready to bite into anything that attacked me.

  Unlike half-blood territory, this area looked like a normal park—dead grass and trees under dull grey sky. An old play area complete with seesaws and swings covered in rust and overgrown with weeds, lay beside a crumbling path with grass peeking through the cracks.

  “Looks like a cheerful place for a Summer faerie to hang out,” I commented as we stepped out of the car.

  Lord Colton joined me. “I didn’t know there was a rule.”

  “Summer faeries like things to be… bright. For Winter, creepy dark forests are more their style.”

  “Hmm.” He eyed the wooded area a few metres away. The Lady of the Tree apparently lived inside an ancient oak inside there. Might be a dryad. They were usually mild-mannered as far as faeries went, but I wouldn’t take any chances. Irene rested in my hands, and I scanned the undergrowth before walking towards the forest as though I didn’t want to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.

  I hated forests—hated the way the branches closed over my head and cut out the sunlight, and the way every sound set my teeth on edge. I refused to scream like a little girl in front of Vance Colton. I took the lead, gripping my sword with both hands.

  A rustling sound made me jump, but it was only Lord Colton. He’d grabbed a weapon of his own—not the long sword, but a dagger the length of my arm. So I wasn’t the only one on edge. Somewhat gratified, I took the lead again.

  “Wish someone had given us specific directions,” I said after we’d walked for five minutes in silence. My sense of direction wasn’t terrible and we hadn’t walked in a circle, so the woodland stretched further than I’d thought. Must be a spell, because most public parks before the invasion had never been this size.

  Trees crowded either side, and no path led the way forward. We navigated our way through undergrowth and piles of fallen leaves, and over rotting tree trunks crawling with insects. The forest appeared to reflect the season outside—early autumn—so it couldn’t be made from faerie magic. I wasn’t likely to forget stories of Unseelie’s creeping dark forests of ice or the achingly bright colours of Seelie territory. Faerie wore masks of all kinds, and it was all too easy to become ensnared in a trap. The fact that we couldn’t see where we’d come in made a chill creep up my back even though I hadn’t heard a suspicious sound yet.

  Actually, the quiet was too absolute. Aside from our rustling footsteps, no birdsong or the sound of small creatures rustling in the undergrowth interrupted our path. And no faeries, either, though this place would be a haven to piskies and other small creatures.


  Five minutes later, the whispering started.

  At first, the sound was so quiet, I’d never have picked up on it were it not for my sensitive hearing. Lord Colton didn’t appear to have noticed, so I kept silent, listening out. No words reached my ears—just meaningless whispering. Creepy as hell.

  “You hear that?” I asked.

  “Hear what?”

  Crap. Either my ears were more sensitive than I’d thought, or only people with faerie magic were tuned into the whispers. Considering my track record with faeries, I’d bet money on the latter.

  “Might be hearing things. I thought there was a voice.”

  Lord Colton glanced at me and lifted his blade. So he trusted my judgment? Or maybe he was being extra cautious. I didn’t blame him a bit.

  I watched the trees as we walked, but they didn’t appear any different from ordinary English oaks. Acorns and bright leaves littered the way and brambles tangled in our path. I could have stepped over them, but after certain experiences in Faerie involving thorns, I decided to skirt around them instead.

  Finally, the trees thinned out, revealing a clearing. In the centre lay a huge oak that extended into the canopy and beyond.

  This is our tree. The roots were thicker than my body, fanning out and all but swallowing up the trees around it. I didn’t want to climb over them in case it came to life and tried to eat me—as happened on a disturbingly regular basis in Faerie. I took the lead, finding a gap to approach it from the side.

  A smiling face appeared in the bark, so sudden and grotesque I jumped. Okay. So not all Summer faeries were beautiful. Her face was as gnarled as the tree trunk, her mouth a sneer, and her eyes were black pupil-less pits.

  “Such an odd time for visitors,” she crooned, her voice harsh as nails on a chalkboard.

  I wanted to back away. Instead, I stepped forward. “We’re here to ask if you’ve seen any mortal children in the hands of the faeries.” No point in wasting words.

  “Mortal children. Pretty mortal children.” She grinned. “He needed them, he said. Never said why.”

  What? I stared a moment, heart freefalling. No way. She—she couldn’t mean the Swansons’ son. I hadn’t even said his name. Maybe she was trying to unsettle me. Successfully.

  “Wait,” said Lord Colton, apparently reading my thoughts from my expression. “We don’t know for sure who she’s talking about.”

  Maybe not, but I never took anything faeries said at face value. “Who took them?”

  “The Lord of the Grey Vale.”

  Ice shot down my spine. My throat closed up, my skin going clammy. No. Not there. Anywhere but there.

  I should have known. The odds of a rogue sneaking in from Summer or Winter had always been low. No. Our enemy came from the Grey Vale… from between the realms.

  From the place I’d escaped.

  “His name?” I croaked.

  The lady’s mouth fell open, and a choking noise came out.

  Shit. She’s bespelled, too.

  My lungs tightened, lightheadness sweeping through my body. I tried to step away, but my feet didn’t seem inclined to move. Goddammit, pull yourself together, Ivy.

  “Where did he take them?”

  Lord Colton’s sideways look made me certain he’d seen me totally freeze up. For once, I didn’t care what he thought. Nothing else mattered but the horrible words escaping from the faerie’s mouth.

  “Where they belong, with their master.”

  “Shit!” This time, I managed take a step away, my hands tightening on the solid iron of my sword’s hilt. Wisps of blue magic flared around me as a tremor surged through my fingers.

  “In this realm?” I whispered.

  “Not anymore.” She gave me a mournful look. “Not anymore.”

  I jerked back, her words hitting me like bullets. I wanted to fall to the ground and scream. We were too late, far too late. The faeries had already taken the children out of this realm.

  We’d failed.

  Damn. Damn them all. I glared at her, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Blistering rage rose white-hot and melted every last drop of fear away.

  “Who the hell handed them over to the faeries? Why?”

  “I did,” croaked the Lady.

  I stared in disbelief. “How—why would you do that?” More blue wisps of smoke rose alongside me, thickening by the second as my anger climbed. She did it. Of course human lives meant absolutely jack shit to her, like every fucking faerie in existence.

  Her face crumpled. “Because my life is limited in this mortal plane. We cannot go back to our own realm, and so we wither and die as you mortals do. I did what I needed to do to preserve my own life.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “You sacrificed kids to the faeries to preserve your own life? Is that what you’re saying?” I stepped closer, my voice deathly calm. The weapon in my hand was steady, and I’d cut down her damned tree if I could get those kids back.

  A hand rested on my arm. “Wait.” Lord Colton, who looked as surprised by my outburst as the Lady did, turned to her. “What were you promised, exactly?”

  This time, the impact of what she said sank through my rising fury. We wither and die as you mortals do. I thought faeries were immortal… but this realm wasn’t like their home. Could they really die if they stayed here too long?

  “He made a promise,” she said. “We can return home. I don’t know what they need the children for, but that was the promise. I gave them the son and the daughter, in return for my life back.”

  “How?”

  “Blood,” she whispered. “Pure blood from the heart of our own realm.”

  “What?” Now I sounded plain stupid. Blood. Faerie blood. An image burst to life in my head, of crimson-blue faerie blood exploding all over my hands and my blade as I delivered the killing blow to the lord who’d taken me.

  “The blood of an immortal can temporarily restore our lives.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll have my life back, and then—”

  “You’re saying if another faerie gives you their blood—one from Faerie itself—it’ll make you immortal again?” asked Lord Colton.

  She bowed her head.

  “But why did they want the children in the first place?” asked the mage. He, at least, had managed to keep his head together.

  She choked before she could speak.

  This time, I didn’t pity her. I hoped she’d choke on her own blood. But that wouldn’t get those kids back. “Whatever spell’s on you, you’re going to tell me where to find them, or I’ll kill you.”

  I moved towards her, and the ground collapsed underneath my feet.

  One second, I stood on packed soil. The next, I was falling. A scream jammed in my throat as I dropped a good five feet before rolling over onto a sliding shelf made out of earth.

  Hands grabbed me—clawed hands. I liked to think I could keep my cool in a crisis, but claws reaching out of the soil to pull my hair sufficiently freaked me out enough to make me scream.

  I kicked out blindly, waving my sword around without caring what I hit. However, no body followed the clawed hands.

  Holy crap—those weren’t hands. The tree’s roots were attacking me.

  A root stabbed at my head and I ducked, the movement dislodging more soil and causing me to drop further into the ground. Shit. The only way to the surface was to climb on the roots before they stabbed me.

  Another root jabbed at my head, spear-sharp. As I dodged, two more grabbed my ankles, yanking me onto my back. I hung onto Irene and attempted to stab one of them, but the imbalance nearly caused me to drop my sword.

  Cursing, I lunged sideways to dodge another strike, trying to reach my ankles to cut my way free. The roots responded by pulling me into the air and throwing me against the earthen wall. My back hit packed earth, knocking the wind from me, while the branches squeezed my ankles until I snarled in pain.

  I dodged another blow and aimed the side of the blade at the branch wrapped around my right ankle. T
he blade cut into the bark and a spray of blue-red brightened the roots. The Lady of the Tree—she wasn’t controlling the roots, she was them.

  Goddammit. Another strike forced me to pull away, and the angle was too precarious to risk stabbing the attacking root without catching my own leg in the process. I needed to get at the heart of the tree to kill it, but that was above the ground.

  A sword materialised without warning, stabbing the main root as it aimed another jab at my face. The blade sent the root flying back, severed in two, and faerie blood spurted out.

  About time, Lord Colton. He must be standing above me. I took advantage of the pause to dig my blade into the root on my right ankle again. This time, it sliced through as easily as a knife through butter, and a horrible keening sound rose up around me. The root blackened, permanently damaged by the iron. But there were plenty more where that came from.

  Another root tried to take my eye out. I raised my arm and it glanced off the thick sleeve of my jacket. Quickly, I stabbed upwards at the attacker, just as Lord Colton’s sword appeared again and struck out, almost slicing through me.

  “Dammit,” I muttered. “Can’t you at least look before you make a sword materialise next to my—”

  The root still wrapped around my left ankle tugged me into the air. I hung upside-down, swearing. I waved my sword, but I couldn’t get at the right angle to free myself with the blood rushing to my head.

  Lord Colton, however, could. His blade appeared again and severed the root that held me. Unfortunately, that caused it to let me go… right above the gaping hole in the ground.

  I yelped as I fell, hand scrambling for purchase on the edge. My hands latched onto soil, a sickly smell rising in my nostrils.

  Faerie blood. Bright blue and red. I blinked, a familiar image playing behind my eyes. Crimson blood, and blue magic—

  “Ivy.”

  Lord Colton. I couldn’t see him, but his voice came from nearby. My grip shifted on the soil. I wasn’t in Faerie. I was in the mortal world, and I wouldn’t let them take me.

  Hands grabbed mine and pulled me out of the earth as the tree’s roots rose to strike again.