by C. I. Black
“Almost done here?” Gage asked, his boots heading deeper into the alley toward Lachlin.
“You can sense magic, too,” Lachlin said. “You tell me.”
And the axis of her new, topsy-turvy universe righted… at least for the moment.
If things kept up this way, she wasn’t going to be able to stay long at Gage’s house. That was a disaster waiting to happen.
But her reasons for moving in with Gage and his team hadn’t changed. She still had no idea about this new order to the world with monsters and fairy tales. And she had no idea who she was, who her biological mother was—the source of her unwanted powers—or how to control her abilities. If she stayed with Gage, she’d be safe, relatively speaking, and others would be safe from her, but would she be safe from herself?
She glanced back at the dumpster, determined not to let her memories overwhelm her. The flicker happened again, behind and under it.
There was something there. A piece of metal catching the sunlight? Except the early afternoon sun didn’t reach this far into the alley.
She knelt and pushed aside some waterlogged newspapers—she was not going to think about what was on what she’d just touched. There, just under the edge of the dumpster, was a small silver box. It shimmered with a white halo, sparkling like a diamond in sunlight. About the size of her palm, the box had intricate Celtic-like symbols swirling over its visible sides into a mesmerizing infinity.
She grabbed a glove from the inside pocket of her new jacket—the old one hadn’t survived the fight with the smoke demon—and picked it up. “I think I found something.”
Gage jerked his head up. “Don’t touch—”
Light exploded around them.
CHAPTER 2
A brilliance, blinding even through her sunglasses, whirled around Morgan. It pulsed, a ferocious vortex of light, swirling, taking shape. She could see it, a hint of something like a pole or an edge or—
A sword.
It solidified and swept at her without anyone holding it. She jerked back. The blade nicked the front of her new jacket, slicing through the breast pocket. Light danced over the semi-transparent weapon, shimmering like the box had before she’d picked it up.
The blade jabbed at her, three quick lunges, and she scrambled out of the way. Fire licked around her eyes, her powers threatening to release.
She fought to blink it back, ducking under another swing from the sword. She couldn’t afford to release her abilities. It was too dangerous.
Lachlin jerked to face her. “What the—?”
The blade flew toward him, slicing at his head. He drew a hunting knife and blocked the attack, but the sword darted around faster than humanly possible and nicked his cheek.
He ducked under the next swing and grabbed for the hilt. It twisted out of reach and sliced toward him. He dove out of the way, rolling through the muck toward her.
“What did you pick up?” he growled.
Morgan held out the box and Gage grabbed it.
The sword raced toward them. Lachlin knocked it aside with his knife and Gage shoved Morgan out of the way. She hit the side of the dumpster with a thud. More fire billowed over her cheeks.
Light flashed at the edge of her vision and she twisted aside. The sword skidded across the metal, drawing a thick rent beside her head.
“What is it?” She ducked another swing and lurched back. The fire raced over her face. God, she had to calm it, get control.
“A sword,” Gage said, squinting at the box as if trying to decipher the marks on the side.
“No shit.” The blade jabbed at her.
Lachlin batted it aside with his knife and it wrenched around to him. “A phantom sword. It’s a spell, Kitten.”
The fire bled over her forehead. Control it. Don’t hurt anyone. Please. “How do we stop it?”
“Use the magic word.” Lachlin twisted out of the way of another slash.
“Which is?” She clenched her teeth and shoved her powers back.
“Whatever the spellweaver made it.” The blade whirled at Gage, who leapt back, hit the alley wall, and ducked the next swing.
Wonderful.
“The other option,” Lachlin said. “Let it strike a killing blow on one of us.”
The blade jabbed at Gage, who twisted to the side and blocked the swing with the box. Metal screeched against metal and light erupted from the sword, whirled around them, and whooshed back into the weapon. “Or cast a counterspell.”
“I’m not a spellweaver, neither are you right now, and I’m not letting you break the rules for a stupid phantom sword. Hold it off. I’ll get the anti-magic box in the trunk.” Lachlin jerked toward the SUV, but the sword jabbed at him, forcing him back. Then it whirled on Gage. He blocked with the metal box. The blade’s tip caught in a whorl and ripped it from his hand. More light shattered from the blade as the box bounced across the asphalt.
They had to get to the car, but the blade whooshed around them, darting in, nicking, slashing, drawing blood. They didn’t have time to go anywhere.
Morgan scrambled away from a flurry of swings. If they didn’t do something, someone was going to take a misstep and die.
The blade wrenched around to Gage.
Fire raced across her eyes. Every time the box was hit, the blade seemed to loose cohesion. Not a great option and she didn’t even know if it was one, but it was the best she had.
She yanked out her gun and shot the box. The bullet ricocheted off it, hit the dumpster, and slammed into the bricks nearby. Shit.
More light erupted from the sword. It jabbed at Gage, semi-transparent, and the light whirled around it, then flooded back into it. It wasn’t enough.
The sword swung again.
He staggered back, his heel catching on the uneven pavement.
Lachlin yelled and she shot twice more, aiming the ricochet to hit the bricks away from everyone.
More light shattered.
The sword plunged into Gage’s chest. He screamed and went stiff.
Oh God.
Pain twisted across his face, and with a whoosh, the semi-transparent sword vanished. He pressed his hands to his chest and sagged to the ground, gasping.
Morgan scrambled to his side, pressing her hands over his. Keep pressure on it. Keep him from bleeding out. But the blade had imbedded to the hilt. It would have gone all the way through him. He just had to hold on long enough for help to arrive. “Tell me you’re okay. Tell me whatever kind of Kin you are heals from something like this.”
“He can’t heal on his own. Not now. I should have—” Lachlin yanked out his phone. “Keep pressure on the wound. We need help.”
Please be okay. Please let her impossible new world include Gage surviving an impossible wound.
“Lachlin, stop,” Gage said.
“Keep up the pressure. You son of a bitch, getting yourself stabbed with some stupid fucking phantom shit.”
“Lachlin.”
“I need an ambulance, now.”
Hurry. Please hurry.
“Lachlin,” Gage barked, his voice rough.
Lachlin jerked to face him. “What?”
“There’s no need.” Gage opened his hands, revealing a smooth, undamaged jacket. There wasn’t a hole nor any blood. “Morgan weakened the spell, making the blade insubstantial before it struck.”
“Lord and Lady. You— If you—” Lachlin pressed the phone back to his ear. “No, sorry. False call.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket and stormed to the dumpster, his back to them, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Son of a—”
“Hey, doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” Gage used the wall to help him stand, one hand clutching his chest. He glanced at her, pain still twisting his expression. The muscles in his jaw flexed and a hard mask slid over the pain. “What made you think to shoot it?”
“There were other options to consider?” It was just the first thing that had popped into mind.
“Unconventional to say the least. Bull
ets and magic are usually a bad combination,” Lachlin growled.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” She prayed there wouldn’t be a next time but had a sinking suspicion that this was part and parcel of her new world.
“So now we know what killed our victim.” Gage shuffled over to the box. It didn’t look as if it had been shot or damaged in any way. The mesmerizing scrollwork still wound perfectly over its top and sides, unmarred just like Gage’s chest. “I’m surprised we missed noticing it.”
“I didn’t miss it. I just hadn’t gotten to that side of the alley.”
Gage pursed his lips. He’d missed it, too. Had he been too distracted by her?
“I’ll get the anti-magic box from the SUV,” Lachlin said, his voice still dark.
“Got one already,” a voice at the end of the alley said. The crime scene technician, Nick, held up a wooden box about the size of a loaf of bread. His glamour was down, his face covered in dark, shaggy hair, and what little skin Morgan could see was white.
“Lachlin, take a look at it first,” Gage said.
Lachlin’s eyes narrowed. He looked ready to argue, but instead crouched over the box. His frown deepened. He pursed his lips and shifted.
“What do you see?” Gage asked.
Lachlin’s lips pinched more tightly together. He certainly saw something, but Morgan had no idea what. To her, the box still sparkled like a diamond in sunlight. Brilliant and white, just like the light from the sword.
“All right.” He stood and hooked a long strand of black hair behind a pointed ear. His glamour had fallen from his whole face, revealing a thin nose and narrow jaw. He looked ever so slightly stretched out, and his pale eyes were just a little too big.
He stepped back and crossed his arms, all long, sensual grace. The sense of bad boy was gone, but he still oozed sex. His gaze slid up to hers, but instead of the expected cocky smile, his expression remained grim.
Nick marched into the alley, knelt beside the metal box with its nasty phantom sword spell and, with trembling hands, opened the anti-magic box.
Gage crouched beside him. “I’ll get it. Be ready to close it.”
Morgan fought the urge to say something. She didn’t want anyone to touch it again and release the magic sword. But this was Gage’s world. It was his job. She had to trust that he knew what he was doing even if she wasn’t sure she could completely trust him.
He drew in a quick breath and grabbed the metal box. Light exploded around them. Lachlin swore and tensed, and fire licked around Morgan’s eyes. Nick trembled but maintained position, holding the lid to the anti-magic box. Gage shoved the enspelled box into the wooden one and the technician snapped the lid closed.
The light exploded into blinding sparks, showering down to the asphalt, but the sword didn’t reappear.
Morgan blew out the breath she’d been holding.
“Looks like we have a real investigation.” Gage picked up the anti-magic box and straightened.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Nick’s glamour flickered back into place, revealing a man, mid-thirties, his cheeks dusted with stubble, and short, well-groomed hair, nothing like his shaggy true appearance. “You can tell Wright the case isn’t his anymore.”
“Thank you,” Gage said.
“No, thank you. That might have killed one of my team members. I should probably see if they’ve returned.” Nick strode back to the mouth of the alley.
Gage tucked the anti-magic box under his arm and turned to Lachlin. “So who is it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Really?” A hint of darkness and power gathered around Gage. Not enough for Morgan to feel the crackle of energy in the air, but enough to give Lachlin warning.
Lachlin raised his chin. “It’s Bearnas.”
The energy vanished, leaving a second of airless void around them, pressing against Morgan’s senses.
“You sure?” Gage asked.
“Yeah,” Lachlin said, his voice somber.
“Who or what is Bearnas? And how can you be certain?” Something wasn’t being said in this conversation and she was getting tired of being kept in the dark. She dipped her sunglasses down to try to get a better read on Lachlin and Gage, but fire flickered in her eyes and she shoved the glasses back up.
“There are very few spellweavers among the Kin anymore. They all have distinct crafting techniques. Signatures, you might say,” Gage said.
“Like bomb makers?” Morgan asked.
Lachlin glared at her. Boy, would she love to glare back, but that was a bad idea given her tenuous hold on her powers right now.
“Give the snake charmer full marks. Yes, like bomb makers. Except they usually don’t make phantom sword spells and this one certainly doesn’t.”
“How do you know?” He was awfully certain, given the evidence that this spellweaver did indeed make phantom sword spells.
“Because Bearnas is my sister.”
CHAPTER 3
Lachlin opened one of a dozen glass doors leading into Kincade Towers, owned by one of the wealthiest families in town. They had left the alley and driven into the business district proper to the towering glass and steel building. Morgan was still trying to wrap her brain around the idea that Lachlin’s family owned a multi-national conglomerate, but then, as far as she knew, Kin had normal jobs and normal lives just like everyone else. Why not billionaire business owners?
“I really think you should wait out here,” Lachlin said.
Gage narrowed his eyes. “You know I can’t let you talk to your sister alone. You shouldn’t even be with us when we interview her.”
“And bringing the half-breed is such a good idea.” Lachlin shot Morgan a dark look and marched into the vast lobby. Ahead, three stories tall, stood a rock wall covered with plants. A narrow stream of water danced down the rocks, pooling and falling until pouring into a shallow basin at the bottom. Overhead, sunlight sparkled through a semi-transparent ceiling, casting soft natural light and making the space feel breezy, as if they were still outside and it was late spring, not April.
Morgan shifted closer to Gage. “So what do I need to know?”
“You’re half human. The Fae will fuck with your mind.” Lachlin’s ears grew pointed and he headed to a hall beside the rock wall.
“You think your sister will use more magic on us?” she asked.
“It’s not my sister I’m worried about.”
Gage held out his hand. “This would be one of the Kin where you having a gun is a bad idea.”
She slid her hand to her sidearm. The idea of giving it up didn’t sit well. Without it, she was defenseless… all right, maybe not defenseless, but using her powers was still a bad idea. She could barely control it as it was. There was no guarantee she’d be able to avoid killing someone in the heat of battle.
“All Fae have the ability to charm to some degree or another. Humans are particularly weak against it,” Gage said.
“And my family is particularly gifted.” Lachlin paused by a smaller set of glass doors. Beyond was a jeweler’s shop, the precious metals and stones sparkling in the strategically placed lighting. He turned back to Morgan and the light from the store haloed him. He was perfect, beautiful, mesmerizing.
A hint of a wicked smile pulled at his lips, but that only made him more stunning. She needed to be closer to him, bask in his glory. His very essence drew her to him. The muscles in her legs flexed, ready to bring her closer to him.
Good God! What the hell was she thinking?
She ground her teeth against the desire. Sure, Lachlin was nice to look at, but he wasn’t her type. She didn’t do bad boys. And without a doubt, he was playing with her right now.
His smile vanished and the desire to drop into an adoring, thoughtless lump at his feet disappeared. “You shouldn’t be here.”
She couldn’t tell if he was aware he’d affected her or not. She prayed he couldn’t. He’d be unbearable if he knew what kind of power he had over her.
“Can we stop talking about me as if I’m not here.” She really didn’t want to give up her gun, but if she wanted to know the truth about this new world, she couldn’t stay locked up in Gage’s house reading his encyclopedia. Which meant she needed to play by his rules—at least until she figured out what his intentions were.
Fine. She handed him her gun and he slid it into the back waistband of his jeans, flipping his jacket over it.
Lachlin rolled his eyes. “Try not to kill any members of my family.”
He strode into the jewelry store and Morgan and Gage followed. The only clerk on duty glanced up from polishing a pendant and offered a coy smile at Lachlin.
“I’m here for Bearnas,” Lachlin said, heading to the split in the counter. “Is she in her studio?”
The clerk, a woman in a hot pink suit, her brown hair pulled back in a sleek chignon, nodded and her smile fell away at Lachlin’s lack of interest in her. Her features flickered and her ears elongated into delicate points. She glanced at Morgan, her too-large eyes widening—just like almost every other Kin Morgan had encountered who recognized what she was—but the clerk pulled her expression back to a composed neutral faster than most.
Morgan and Gage followed Lachlin into a back hall to two heavy steel doors on either side of the hall at the end. Lachlin knocked on the door to the right and opened it without waiting for an invitation.
Inside was a bright, cramped artist’s studio. The shelves were filled with boxes and bins instead of paint and canvases, and drills and pliers and other tools instead of brushes and pencils. A few boxes were half-open, revealing precious metals and stones in Ziploc bags and nestled in cotton or half-wrapped in paper. The back wall was one large, frosted window. Given their location within the building, it had to be fake, but the glow coming from it felt like natural sunlight. In front of it stood a worktable cluttered with tools and containers.
Beside that, half-hidden by a collection of potted plants, a woman hunched over a drafting table. She straightened, revealing a model-thin frame, and turned too-large blue eyes on them. She brushed shoulder-length blond curls from her face, exposing a too-long face. “Does Father know you’re here?”