Harley Merlin 3: Harley Merlin and the Stolen Magicals

by Bella Forrest

  “How are you so calm?” Wade asked, as I maneuvered the group out of the way of the stoop boys. They were loud and rude, but their bark was worse than their bite. They were the kind who’d wave guns around to intimidate, but wouldn’t have the balls to pull the trigger, since it was broad daylight on a main street.

  “I lived here a few years ago,” I replied.

  He stared at me, aghast. “You lived here?”

  “Yep, so I suggest you listen up,” I said, casting a pointed look at Channing. “I know my way around this neighborhood. I can keep us out of trouble.”

  “The mark was spotted going into a dilapidated house on Raven Street. Do you know where that is?” Channing asked.

  I nodded. “This way.”

  We walked along the northern edge of the cemetery, with the graves of fallen veterans on our right. Moving along Market Street at a quick pace, a group of rangy-looking teenagers turned the corner and started coming in our direction. I recognized the gang colors, and hurriedly ushered the rest of the group down Quail Street. If we wanted to avoid confrontation, we needed to avoid the gangs in this area. They didn’t appreciate strangers, especially ones who looked so out of place.

  Cutting right at the end, I led the guys toward the street we were looking for—Raven Street. An apt name, considering the tangible gloom that settled over the houses. Pink-walled houses and rusty fences greeted us, with twisted trees in the front yards. Sofas and various other junk items were thrown wherever, while a couple of palms swayed in the cool breeze that blew through the neighborhood.

  “Let’s go door-to-door, see what people know,” Channing instructed, taking out a police ID.

  I shook my head. “Nope, no IDs. Not here. Not if you want anyone to actually talk to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They won’t speak to us if we look like we’re from the police or the FBI, or any of those places,” I explained. “We just need to ask like normal folks—pretend we’re looking for a friend, or a cousin, or someone’s daughter. Say that Marjorie has gone missing and we’re worried something might have happened to her. Say we want to find her before she gets into any trouble. That’s the only way you’ll get these people to talk.”

  He seemed a bit put out that I had more knowledge about the area than he did. “Fine, no IDs,” he said, after a pause.

  “Excellent,” I replied, trying to keep the note of victory out of my voice. “Let’s split up and go in pairs. Meet back here in an hour?”

  Channing shook his head. “One of us will be with you at all times. Stella, you go with Wade and Harley. I’ll go with Raffe and Santana. No arguments.”

  You just had to have the last word, didn’t you?

  “Works for me,” Stella chimed in, flashing a quick smile at Wade. I realized a second too late that I was giving her the evil eye. Both of us turned away, somewhat embarrassed. Not that I had any reason to be. I was just looking out for a friend. Sure… super convincing, Harley.

  We separated into our trios, and my group took one side of the street while the others took the opposite row of homes. I led the way, guiding Wade and Stella around snapping dogs and Keep Out signs. Most of the pups in this area looked and sounded fierce, but few really were. Plus, I’d always had a soft spot for pit bulls. They had a bad rep, but I thought they were sweet, and fiercely loyal. The Taylors, whom I’d lived with before the Smiths, owned a gray pittie called Barker. I’d loved him more than any human, preferring him to the family. Things didn’t end well with them, thanks to their son’s roving eye and wandering hands. Hardly my fault that he was carted off to the emergency room. In the end, the only thing I was sorry for, after leaving the Taylors behind, was not seeing Barker again.

  As we went from door-to-door with no luck, I thought about the conversation I’d had last night with Alton. Like we’d expected, he’d been thrilled and disappointed in equal measure. He wanted Jacob and Isadora within the confines of the coven, but he’d sort of come around to their reasoning for staying away. I guess it excited him even more to know that he might be receiving a fully-fledged, in-control Portal Opener, even if he had to wait for it. Delayed gratification at its finest.

  The Shapeshifter had proven to be a slightly more troubling topic of conversation. We’d told Alton everything about the individual, and about the person they’d impersonated. I mentioned seeing a hand that didn’t belong to Preceptor Bellmore, though that didn’t really give us any more information. It simply took Preceptor Bellmore out of the line of fire. After returning the previous evening, we’d been informed that the real Bellmore was just fine, and had been working late in her office when the attack happened.

  What had surprised me most of all was Alton’s confession that they’d already been monitoring the Shapeshifters in the coven, ever since the Finch incident. I couldn’t get my head around it, even now. If they’d been watching the Shapeshifters, then who attacked us? Alton hadn’t given us any answers. Truthfully, he didn’t seem to know. With the storm, he’d told us there’d been a few glitches in the cameras and the transmissions coming from most of the tracer beacons. He hadn’t thought anything of it, at the time, but he’d since realized that it had been used to the spy’s advantage. We’d been well and truly played.

  We’d all come away from the conversation with the understanding that the Shapeshifters would have to be monitored even more closely, from now on. I presumed that was why he’d put Garrett on surveillance duty with Astrid, keeping him under the coven’s roof instead of out in the field.

  Yeah, but it can’t be Garrett. Surely not. He didn’t know anything about Finch, and I bet all these minions must know about each other. They can’t be working rogue. Garrett had seemed genuinely hurt after discovering the truth of Finch’s betrayal, and I couldn’t fathom it being him. Still, we couldn’t rule anyone out at this point… aside from Preceptor Bellmore. Those hands might not have been one-hundred-percent masculine, but they definitely hadn’t been the preceptor’s.

  Leaving those thoughts behind, I moved my focus back to the task at hand. We reached the fourth house along our side of the road. An elderly woman opened her door, and she seemed wary of us—and understandably so, given the neighborhood.

  “Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you’d seen this girl anywhere?” I asked, showing her a photo. “She’s my baby sister and we’re worried she might be in some trouble. Anything you can do to help us would be amazing.”

  Her expression softened. “Sorry, I haven’t seen a girl like that around here. Nobody smart lives on these streets anymore. It’s all thugs and junkies.” She paused. “I hope you find her. This place can make folks disappear like that.” She snapped her fingers for effect. “It’s like the Bermuda Triangle.”

  “Well, thank you for your help,” I replied. “I hope we find her, too. If you hear anything, here’s my number.” I handed her my card, which she took with shaky fingers. There was still a way to go before we reached the top end of the street, and I was starting to wonder how Marjorie was hiding so well.

  As we went through another handful of houses, I noticed that Stella had been oddly silent since we’d parted with the other three. There were no flirty looks, no giggles, no toying with her hair. She seemed to have drifted off into a world of her own. However, as soon as we crossed the road to reconvene with the others, it all changed. We’d canvassed about half of the buildings on the street with no luck. It seemed all of us were considering a change of strategy.

  “Any luck?” Channing asked.

  “Not from the residents, though the company isn’t too shabby,” Stella replied, smiling in Wade’s direction. My body bristled with annoyance. She’d been quiet for ages, and now this?

  Channing seemed surprised. “So nobody has seen her?”

  “No, they haven’t. Have they, Wade?” Stella addressed only him. Well… seems like I might as well not be here.

  Wade shook his head, and I felt a jolt of joy from him at Stella’s attention. “No
, there haven’t been any sightings so far.”

  “Not for lack of trying though, right?” She nudged him in the arm. I stared in disbelief. Santana seemed to be stunned, too, though Raffe stayed very… well, Raffe. A mixture of churning emotions that I couldn’t read properly.

  “Then we need to keep at it,” Channing said brusquely. A flicker of disappointment crossed Stella’s face, forcing a flashbulb of understanding to go off in my head. Stella was using Wade to see if Channing had feelings for her—to see if she could make him jealous.

  I concentrated on Channing’s emotions to see what I could discover, but there didn’t appear to be a scrap of jealousy in him—only a simmering sense of protectiveness toward Stella, the kind you’d find from a brother or a close friend.

  Oof, that’s going to sting.

  Wade, on the other hand, seemed absolutely delighted. He grinned and nudged Stella back, prompting her to chuckle. I could feel my retinas detaching just by looking at them. He had no idea that he was part of a setup, and he was loving it.

  A big part of me wanted to expose Stella there and then, but I kept the knowledge to myself. Girl code and all that. However, I was so looking forward to dumping a bucket of cold water over Wade when we got back to the coven. He couldn’t have been more flattered if he’d tried. Heck, his cheeks were pink. Another part of me felt a little salty at the happiness he was showing with Stella. With me, it was almost always business-mode Wade, all the time, with a few sprinkled exceptions here and there. Why couldn’t he laugh like that around me, or nudge me in the arm, or—

  My stomach twisted into knots. Oh boy, I am in BIG trouble…

  My reactions weren’t the reactions of a sane, indifferent young woman. These were the jealous reactions of someone who was catching feelings for a certain Wade Crowley. The serious kind. The butterflies-in-the-stomach, head-over-heels, tongue-tied, stupid kind. The kind I tended to avoid at all costs. An expletive sat on my tongue, begging to be muttered under my breath.

  “Come on, let’s go,” I said quietly, keeping my feelings firmly to myself.

  “Are you okay?” Wade asked as we walked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Just tired after yesterday. Running around after people will do that to you.” My words came out all flustered and jumbled. Jeez, Harley, get it together.

  “Did you not get much sleep?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. Lots on my mind.” Yeah, like you.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Now?”

  “No, I meant when we get back to the coven. We can talk or something—grab a coffee and chat through what’s on your mind.”

  I stared at him weirdly. “Yeah… maybe… if there’s not a whole load of other things going on, which there probably will be. Might be a raincheck situation, for when I’ve got even more mental garbage to spew at you.” Very smooth, Harley. Oh, yeah, let’s talk about what’s on my mind—how about, I think I have feelings for you and I don’t know what to do about it? What would you suggest, Wade?

  He chuckled. “Nice mental image.”

  “Yeah… sorry for that visual poetry.”

  He glanced at me with a curious look. “Harley Merlin apologizing? I might have to send you for a psych evaluation when we get back.”

  “Very funny.” I nudged him in the arm, feeling like a middle-schooler again. Maybe I do need a psych evaluation, or some shock therapy. Maybe that’ll get you out of my head, Crowley. If not, a lobotomy might be a good plan.

  “I mean it, though. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

  “Thanks.” My cheeks were burning furiously, forcing me to look away so he wouldn’t see.

  We moved on up the road, asking the same questions and showing the same picture to anyone who’d listen. Near the top end of the street, there was a small apartment block, with a fire escape snaking down the outer wall. A figure caught my eye, just visible from the sidewalk. A girl was coming down the wrought-iron steps, clutching a plump trash bag in her hand.

  Marjorie.

  “There!” I hissed, not wanting to alert her.

  I waved to the others across the road and pointed toward the apartments. They scuttled over, keeping their distance from the fire escape’s line of sight. Slowly, we approached. She was almost at the bottom of the fire escape when she saw us. Her eyes widened in fear. Flinging the trash bag over the railing, she took off at a sprint, racing back upstairs toward the roof. I took off after her, with the others following. Channing, Wade, and Stella hurried up the escape behind me, while Santana and Raffe went around the side of the building, to stop her if she tried to make a break for it through the front door.

  Marjorie wasn’t stupid. She’d evaded the Ryder twins, and she’d kept a low profile for longer than anyone her age ought to have been able to. It was clear this girl had some serious skills. As much as I admired her for them, we needed to catch her. This wasn’t a Jacob and Isadora case—there were no benefits to her staying out here on her own. Nevertheless, I understood her fear.

  I tore up the side of the fire escape, my boots pounding on the rickety metal. Reaching the top, I vaulted over the low wall of the roof and spotted her halfway across it. I sprinted after her, my legs pumping to cut her off. Clawing breath into my lungs, I forged a Telekinetic lasso and hurled it at her. She glanced over her shoulder, grimacing from my mental grip, then threw her arm back and sent a violent gust of air toward me. The blast knocked me off my feet, severing the Telekinetic connection.

  I jumped up with barely a pause and hurtled after her again. She fired blast after blast of violent air in my direction, the sudden whorls and gusts shaking the palm trees in the front yards of the houses opposite. Above us, the sky darkened, her powers drawing on the energy all around her. In her terror, she seemed to be changing the weather.

  Reaching the far edge of the wall, Marjorie didn’t miss a beat as she roused a cushion of air to carry her safely across to the next building. I charged on, with Wade at my side, the two of us leaping onto the next building. The gap was small enough that Wade could make it without the need for magic, though I had to grasp the front of his shirt to stop him from toppling backward. Once he was steady, we sprinted after Marjorie with everything we had.

  Wade hurled a fireball at Marjorie’s feet. So much for keeping a low profile. Behind us, Channing and Stella were struggling to keep up. They didn’t have enough momentum to cross the gap between buildings, both of them forced to go back and take a run up.

  Undeterred, I powered over the next gap and the next, until I realized that Wade was no longer beside me. The gaps between buildings had spread too wide. It was just me and Marjorie now, seeing how far our Air abilities could take us. All around me, the wind howled and snapped, attempting to push me back. I fought Air with Air, creating tiny tornados that spiraled upward before disappearing into the sky.

  Marjorie turned at the end of the street, with no more buildings to leap onto. Instead, she jumped the immense distance onto a building on the next street. I hurried after, determined not to lose sight of her. The diamond of my Esprit sputtered for a minute, the air cushion beneath me disappearing instantly. I plummeted toward the ground, with nothing to break my fall.

  Filled with panic, I flung out a lasso of Telekinesis and wrapped it around a utility pole, using it to gain upward momentum and bounce back toward the rooftops. Somehow, it worked, my Air ability rushing to meet me, as it pushed me the last few feet onto the opposite roof with a roar of wind.

  I didn’t stop for breath, or to think about what might have happened. I kept sprinting, my legs burning, until I closed the distance between myself and Marjorie. She fumbled on the edge of the outer wall, teetering awkwardly. I could see she was tired. Using her moment of hesitation to my advantage, I lunged for her, the two of us toppling over the side. I forged a cushion of air beneath us, and we landed with a soft bounce a few feet above the ground. As it dissipated, we collapsed in a heap, the two of us ga
sping for breath.

  Even then, she tried to fight me. She attempted to release a sharp gust of Air, but I was too close and held her too tight for it to work.

  “Marjorie, stop!” I urged. “Just stop. We’re not here to hurt you.”

  “Let go of me!” she snapped, wriggling like a ferret in my arms.

  “Quit it!” I gripped her tighter, worried she might get away again. I didn’t have much juice left in the tank.

  The others came hurtling around the corner. Santana darted ahead and ducked down beside us, seizing Marjorie’s arms and slapping a set of Atomic Cuffs on her wrists. Mine were in my back pocket, and I couldn’t put them on her without loosening my grip. As soon as she was restrained, I sprawled out on the ground, my chest heaving.

  “Nice catch, Merlin,” Channing commended me. He sounded genuinely impressed. Beside him, Stella dropped her gaze to hide an impulsive expression of hurt. I figured that maybe Channing had never spoken to her like that, just like Wade had never spoken to me the way he had done with her. What are these guys doing to us, Stella? We’re strong, fierce, formidable women… reduced to this by a couple of dudes. We both needed a stern talking-to, or a kick in the ass.

  “What now?” I wheezed, getting to my feet with Santana’s help.

  “We need to take this young lady back to the coven and have a long and serious talk about what happened,” Wade replied.

  Looking down at Marjorie’s scowl, I winced. In all honesty, I would’ve made the same face.

  Fifteen

  Santana

  I sat down in front of the terrified teenager, in the safety of Alton’s office. It was just me and her. I had been elected to speak with her alone, since she showed a clear unease around authority figures, which canceled Alton out, and all of us piling into the room would have made her just as uncomfortable, which canceled the rest of the team out. Apparently, I had a better bedside manner than the others. I wasn’t about to argue.