by Sam Cheever
“Naida! Get off the ground and let’s get this done.”
Ah yes. Miss Compassion had arrived.
I groaned again and could almost feel her impatience. “Man up, keeper. You have an artifact to wrangle.”
I rolled over and looked up at the tiny, insect-sized version of my non-compassionate assistant. “You do know I could squash you like a bug right now?”
Sebille buzzed sideways and then back so quickly my brain turned to liquid from the movement. I was pretty sure if she didn’t stay still I was going to have a seizure. “Stop moving.”
“You mean like this?” She shot skyward and then back down, so quickly she was just a tiny, irritating blur on the air.
“I hate you so much right now.”
Sebille chuckled. “Seriously though. Walk it off, Naida. We need to get into that house and find the artifact.”
She was right. The search had to go on, despite the fact that I was a cat’s whisker away from death at the moment. I gritted my teeth and pushed to my feet, staring down at my newly exposed toes.
Sebille buzzed closer and looked down at them too. “Why am I getting a hankerin’ for grilled hot dogs right now?”
“You suck,” I mumbled, hobbling forward on my fried-sausage toes. “What’s the report from the grounds? Has your mother found anything there?”
“She found a litter of kittens that look a lot like Mr. Wicked.”
I stopped and stared into her tiny, disgusted face. “We need to save them.”
“Already underway. They were locked in a small building near the pond. The Fairies released them and Mother ordered them taken to a safe spot.”
I closed my eyes, simultaneously relieved and terrified. When I thought about how much the Quillerans had tortured me over Mr. Wicked, I knew they’d be handing out great dollops of misery over the loss of the rest of the litter. “Good.” I hobbled forward again.
Sebille whirred forward and then back, hanging on the air in front of my face looking disgusted.
“What?” I snarled.
“Can’t you move any faster? At this rate I’ll spend the rest of my life on this task. I’d hoped to get married and have children someday.”
I shuddered at the thought of mini-Sebilles scurrying around haranguing me. “I’m going as fast as I can. In case you hadn’t noticed, my feet are only a squirt of mustard and a spoon full pickle relish away from being totally bar-b-cued.”
She sighed, the tiny wisp of air blowing her bright red bangs off her face. “Hold on.”
I stopped and followed her movement toward my toes with alarm. “What are you doing?”
I took two clumsy steps back, certain she was going to lop off my toes or something equally unfeeling and desperate to remove the problem.
“Just stand still,” her small voice filtered up to me. “I got this.”
A soft, pink light emerged from her tiny form as she hovered above my toes. It bathed the burned digits in gentle illumination, soothing and easing some of the swelling. Her wings pulsed three times and dust filtered down onto my charbroiled flesh. It healed slightly, though the skin was still an angry red.
She shot back upward and looked into my face. “There. Try that.”
I nodded, took a step forward, and fell right on my face.
10
A Prickly Situation
“You have a little grass, just there…” Sebille told me on a grin.
I glared at her, digging at my teeth with a fingernail to extract the piece of lawn. “You could have told me my toes would be numb.”
She shrugged, landing on a dust-covered table in the giant entryway. I’d had a sneezing fit when we’d opened the massive front door of the castle-like home. A light breeze drifted through the door when we opened it, sending dust sifting into the air from every surface.
I set frog-in-a-box on the table a couple of feet away from Sebille, just in case Super Tongue the Green Avenger decided she looked tasty. “I could maybe find it in myself to someday forgive the Quillerans for being giant douche-nozzles.” I said. “But they should be buried up to their ears in a fire ant colony for their housekeeping.”
Sebille had been pinching her nose shut since we’d come through the door. “So true.”
The stench inside the home bespoke the witchy family’s dubious activities, a decidedly sulfurous odor hung on the air and the dust littering nearly every surface glittered with unspent power.
“Where do we start?” Sebille asked.
I closed my eyes and extended my arms, pulling my artifact-sensing energy forward and sending it out into the home. I opened my eyes to see the glossy tendrils of seeking energy dispersing along the first floor and oozing up the steps to the second.
We waited for one of the tendrils to chime in discovery. After a moment, a gentle, tinkling sound filled the air. I pointed up the stairs. “That way.”
Another chime sounded. We glanced toward the dark hallway leading away from us. “You look up. I’ll look down,” I told Sebille.
Another chime tinkled, and another, and another. Soon the entire house chimed a cacophony of discovery.
Sebille and I shared a look. I’d had magical misfires before. And I’d had multiple discoveries before. But never anything of the current magnitude for either.
“They must have an entire library of stolen artifacts,” I told Sebille. I was beginning to think the Book of Blank Pages that Rustin’s family had “found” might have been gained in a less harmless fashion than he’d implied.
She frowned, glancing toward a distant chime that sounded anew, seeming to set off a whole new round of fresh alerts.
I sighed. “I guess we’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
Sebille nodded. “I’ll start upstairs.” She buzzed away so fast I almost couldn’t track her as she zipped up the stairs.
Sighing, I headed for the kitchen, figuring that would be the best place to start.
An hour later, Sebille and I stood staring down at a pile of tea infusers on the kitchen table, our expressions dire.
Full size again, Sebille shook her head. “Who has this many tea infusers?”
“Apparently the Quillerans aren’t good at sharing.” No surprise there. Nobody knew exactly how many of the evil rabbits lived in the big house. Some estimates had them at twenty assorted siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles. Sebille and I had rummaged through ten obviously inhabited bedrooms in our search.
There were another half dozen that could have been inhabited, but they looked like temporary stopping places at best. Like fancy, albeit dusty, hotel rooms for visiting evil spawn.
“I guess we need to take them all?” Sebille looked doubtful.
I shared her concern. My artifact-sensing magics had pinged on every single one of the infusers. Either my energies had become skewed in the big house, most likely due to warding if that was the case, or the Quillerans had found a way to duplicate the artifact.
Though I didn’t have high hopes for the batch. None of them seemed to have an excess of magical energy attached to them.
“I don’t think we have any choice,” I agreed. “Maybe once we get them out of here we can figure out which infuser is the culprit.”
“You’d think there’d be some residue of essence left behind in them,” Sebille said on a frown.
“Yeah. You’d think.” I tugged a plastic bag from my pocket, snapping it open. “Let’s do this and get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
We started shoving infusers into the bag. Across the room, a soft sound drew my attention. I turned my head just as a large kitchen knife flew through the air, aimed right at Sebille.
I shrieked, flinging myself at my assistant and sending us both to the floor. The blade sliced through the thickness of my denim jacket, leaving the telltale burn of a wound behind.
I gasped at the pain, giving my arm a quick look as a veritable army of knives and sharp tined forks flew in our direction.
All across t
he room, drawers flew open and deadly utensils flew out, aiming unerringly at us.
We scurried under the table, hearing the lethal projectiles thump against the wood of the top and legs as we crawled quickly away.
“Get small!” I screamed at Sebille. She nodded and flashed into bug size in the blink of an eye. She shot out from under the table and a bright light suddenly flared through the room.
Every projectile in the room stopped in mid-air and, with a whisper of dying magic, clanked to the floor. I didn’t waste any time. Crawling quickly from under the table, I took off running.
A muffled thump in the direction of the stairs had me screeching to a halt. Sebille froze next to me, her wings a colorful blur on the air. “What is that?” I asked the Sprite.
She frowned, her eyes narrowing on the odd-looking conglomeration of metal and cloth.
Whatever it was, it had a sword clutched in one, metal hand and it was coming right for us.
Across the entry, a door slammed open and a long, metal object with a pointy end flew through, stopping a few feet from the door and hovering there.
The fireplace poker was aimed right at my heart.
A sword flew from the same room a beat later, taking up a spot in front of the exit. An assortment of athame flew from the upstairs rooms and surrounded us, curved blades forming a perfect circle on the air.
And last, but definitely not least, a door in the hallway slammed open and dozens of round, flat, objects that gave off a sulfurous stench and were about two inches in diameter each, flew into the room and dropped to the ground, forming an impenetrable path toward the exterior door.
“What are those?” I asked Sebille.
“Blast traps,” she breathed, tension showing in the jerky rhythm of her wings.
“Slug snot,” I responded. “We’re trapped.”
Naida?
The voice was faint, broken, but I recognized it as Rustin trying to break through. I glanced around, looking for his shadowy form in the entryway.
I found him, finally. Like his voice, his form was so faint I could barely make out his features. “Help us!” I said softly, afraid if I spoke too loudly the current hiatus from death would end.
He moved suddenly, blipping closer and I could see his lips moving but I couldn’t hear what he said.
“I can’t hear you,” I said, my tone betraying my nerves as I kept an eye on the death-squad of household furnishings and deadly blades surrounding us.
Two lines of frustration appeared between his barely opaque gaze. He lifted his hand and closed it into a fist, flinging his fingers open with a muttered command I read on his lips.
The air before me shimmered and the blank-paged book appeared. I barely caught it before it fell.
My movement caused a ripple in the force and the strange deathtrap jerked into motion.
Sebille sent a blast of white energy into the air but it didn’t stop the deadly conglomeration of stuff.
I closed my eyes, expecting death, but a heartbeat later the utensils jerked to a halt, mere inches away. They throbbed on the air as if a whisper away from surging into motion again.
Rustin’s lips were moving and the pages of the book were flying. I couldn’t read his words on his lips, but I recognized his hand gestures.
He wanted me to use the book.
But how?
The last page in the book flicked into place and the pages started back the other way, moving more quickly as if tied to the frantic flow of blood through my veins.
Rustin’s face clearly showed his concern. He glanced around the room as if he saw clearly the predicament we were in. But I had no idea what to do.
I watched the pages flip, praying they would land on a solution as they’d done before. But they reached the front of the book and started back through again.
“What do I do?” I asked him, desperation filling my tone.
He hung his head, his muscles straining.
I turned to Sebille. “Go. Get your mother,” I whispered.
Sebille shook her head. “If I move they’ll attack.”
The pages continued to flicker so quickly I was starting to worry the book would tear itself apart.
The army of threatening blades quivered on the air and shot closer a couple more inches.
We were running out of time.
Looking at the strained expression on Rustin’s face, I realized he was probably holding it all back, but he couldn’t do it forever. I figured he was already fighting just to appear in the warded home, and if he was also controlling the book…
Then I realized. He couldn’t be controlling the book. If he was, we’d have already come to a solution.
That meant that I…
Making a sudden decision, I did the only thing I could think of to do. “Book, I need an exit.”
The pages quivered, the flickering slowed, and they finally stopped, near the front of the tome.
A picture of a door appeared.
The knives quivered again. With a sudden whoosh of sulfur-threaded air, the tension left the atmosphere and I realized Rustin had lost his hold on the blades.
“Touch the page!” I screamed to Sebille. I couldn’t wait to see if she listened, I slammed my palm onto the page and flashed into nothingness just as the first blades smacked into the magical book, turning it to a pincushion before it even hit the floor.
11
Sanctuary for Kitties
I landed in the grass next to my car. I was breathing fast and hard, my heart pounding dangerously against my ribs. I leaned against the car, fighting to get my breathing under control.
A loud, whirring sound had me whipping around to find a veritable army of Fae approaching me at a rapid clip. I would have panicked, but I saw Queen Sindra leading the way.
She whirred to a stop in front of me. “What happened?” she demanded, hands on hips. Her face was contorted with anger, her tone imperious.
I pulled another breath into my lungs. “We were attacked. It must have been some kind of magical warding. We barely escaped.”
Sindra’s anger eased a bit. “How did you escape?”
“The book,” I gasped out, wishing my heart would stop beating so fast. “Rustin sent me the book and it gave us a door.”
She cocked her head. “Book? What book?” Oops. I’d committed magical blabbery. Big mistake. Rule number one in the magical world, never reveal any more about your tools than absolutely necessary. Theft of mystical tools ran rampant and it was never a good idea to let your enemies know too much about how you worked. They tended to use it against you.
Even your friends might become a liability if they knew too much.
I shrugged, cultivating careful blank face. “I don’t know. It’s something he has. A witch trick.”
Sindra grimaced as I knew she would. Anything tied to the witchy world was abhorrent to the Fae. “Well, whatever it was, it was powerful. We were expelled too.”
Ah. That explained the indignant rage. Queens didn’t like being forced to do things against their will. “Sorry. It couldn’t be helped.” I hesitated only a beat and then forced myself to ask… “Did you find any artifacts?”
She crossed her tiny arms over her chest. “No. Only the cats.” She frowned. “They’re a pitiful group.”
My heart broke. “Where did you take them?”
Her gaze slid past my shoulder, toward the car. I felt my stomach twist. Turning slowly, I saw a pair of dark-gold eyes staring out at me through the back window. As I looked, another pair of eyes, and then another, and another appeared.
My heart sank. I couldn’t take them all. It would be much too dangerous. I’d have wall-to-wall Quillerans beating down my doors to get to them. But looking at their sad, pitiful little faces I knew I wouldn’t be able to turn them away. I’d find a solution.
Somehow.
The force of Fae rippled behind Sindra and a Sprite dressed in the signature uniform of one of the Queen’s guards flew forward, stopping mid-air in fron
t of her and bowing low. “My Queen. We have a crisis.”
I nearly rolled my eyes. So, what else was new?
Yeah, I’d been hanging out with Sebille too long.
Sebille!
I looked frantically around as Sindra conferred with her guard in a language I didn’t understand. Why hadn’t Sebille come out with me? Had she ignored my command to hit the book?
Panic washed through me. She had to be okay. She had to be…
The queen turned back to me. “We must go. The Enchanted Forest has been breached.”
I nodded, my mind preoccupied with Sebille’s absence. “Thank you for your help.”
The Queen inclined her head and motioned for her army to move out.
Torn between the need to get the kittens to a safe place and the need to find Sebille, I barely noticed their departure.
In the end, I decided Sebille was better equipped to take care of herself than the kittens. And, with a sour feeling in my stomach that I was making a terrible mistake, I climbed into the bug and got out of there.
There was only one place where I figured the kittens would be safe. It should have been my last choice, given the owner’s attachment to the witching world. But LeeAnn Mapes, called LA by her friends, was a friend of mine and I trusted her completely.
Her new boyfriend, the witch, was another story. He was still an unknown quantity to me. And he was a witch.
’Nuff said?
Illusion City was about a thirty-minute drive from my small town of Enchanted. I made the drive covered in cats. It wasn’t a bad way to travel. The cats were breaking my heart. They were too skinny, their fur unkempt and their manner toward me wary.
It was clear they hadn’t been well taken care of and it made me hate the Quillerans even more. There were four of them. They were all a shade of gray similar to Mr. Wicked’s and had light-gold to nearly orange eyes. Each cat wore a slender leather collar around its small neck, a magical symbol hanging from each one. I was hoping LA could tell me what the symbols meant. I had a feeling they were dark arts talismans, but I was praying I was wrong.