Mad Magic

by Nicole Conway

  “I need your help,” he confessed. “I’ve got another case. It’s a bad one. I need a hand with it.”

  “Why not ask Eldrick? Or I’m sure you’ve got other friends who would be happy to let you use and lie to them for a little while.”

  Zeph frowned harder. “I need your … particular brand of help.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. Shake a leg, princess. Clock is ticking.”

  “You mean we’re going right now?”

  “Yeah. Hurry up. Hank called a few minutes ago. All he would say is that it’s critical. He’s gonna meet me downstairs in five minutes.”

  “I never said I was going.” I dug my heels in and glared at him.

  Zeph pursed his lips.

  We stared one another down like gunslingers.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “What do you want, then?”

  I hesitated. After all, this might be my last shot at getting anything out of him. I had to shoot to kill.

  “A date,” I replied at last.

  His eyes widened. “With me?”

  “Well certainly not with Hank.”

  Zeph was silent, gaping at me. His face slowly began to flush. Suddenly, he snapped his mouth shut and glared down at the floor between us. “Okay, then. A date it is.”

  I smirked in triumph. “Good. I need a second to change.”

  He followed me inside, waiting while I hurried to my bedroom and put on a pair of jeans and several long-sleeved shirts. It was freezing outside, so I added a few extra layers to keep me from winding up a redheaded popsicle.

  When I came back to the kitchen, Zeph was biting his lip like he was trying hard not to laugh. I couldn’t figure out why.

  Then I looked at Eldrick.

  He was standing at the stove, apparently oblivious or unconcerned with whatever we were doing, stirring the spaghetti sauce—wearing my frilly pink cooking apron. I realized now he must have gotten the wrong idea. I’d handed him the spoon and the apron at the same time, but I hadn’t meant for him to wear it.

  “Let’s go.” Zeph elbowed me.

  I nodded. “Be right out.”

  While he went to the door, I quickly dug my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture of Eldrick. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. I had a feeling that sort of thing might make him hate me more than ever. Worth it, though.

  “Eldrick, would you mind watching the house for me for a bit? I’ll be back in a little while.” I still felt bad for ordering him around. It was better to ask, I thought, even if he never said no.

  “What should I do with this?” He held up the pot of steaming red sauce.

  “Keep stirring for a few more minutes, until it gets thick. Then pour it over the pasta over there. Don’t forget to turn off the stove.” I came up behind him, leaning around to watch how he was stirring. “Think you can handle it?”

  Eldrick stiffened, his expression flustered as he flicked me a glance. He still freaked out like that whenever I came too close, but he didn’t try to shove me away anymore, so I counted that as progress, too.

  “I’ll manage.” He was focused on the sauce again.

  “Thank you. Eat as much as you want, okay? I’ll be back in a little while.” I waved as I left, grabbing my thickest winter coat and scarf from the closet by the front door on my way out.

  Zeph was still smirking when I found him idling in the front foyer of our building. He took one look at me, his face red like he couldn’t stand to hold it in anymore. Then he erupted, laughing so hard I thought he might choke. There were tears in his eyes by the time we got to the sidewalk.

  “Only you.” He snickered, wiping his eyes with his coat sleeves. “Only you could get the crowned Prince of Nightmares himself to wear a pink apron and stand there, stirring away like little Suzie homemaker.”

  “Don’t tease him, Zeph.” I swatted his arm.

  “What’s this? A change of heart? Don’t tell me you like that idiot?” Zeph gave me that taunting, signature smirk of his. “Oh man, if only his dad could see him. I think he would literally vomit if he saw his only son and heir doing housework like a freakin’ maid.”

  “Stop it. He’s not my maid. You have no idea how much work it’s been to get him to talk to me at all. Who is his dad, anyway?”

  “The one and only Bogeyman,” Zeph laughed darkly. “Or boogeyman, as you probably know him. Human names for us tend to change over the years.”

  “The boogeyman … is a faerie?”

  “Of course. And besides Fir Darrig, he’s the most notorious Unseelie fae in the world. As the King of Nightmares, he has quite the reputation.”

  I gulped.

  It wasn’t difficult to imagine that Eldrick came from a long line of horrible things that went bump in the night. He had terrorized me, too. And even now that we were on semi-good terms, I still wondered if he might turn on me in a second if he ever got free of my dad’s contract.

  I was lost in thought when a familiar black Cadillac pulled up to the curb. Hank honked the horn, and Zeph grabbed my elbow and pulled me into the back seat.

  Once we were squished in the car again, Zeph’s good mood fizzled. He wasn’t smiling or laughing anymore.

  Hank peeled away into traffic with alarming speed. I could see his face in the rearview mirror, and there were deep creases of worry around his eyes. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard the veins in his hands stood out.

  “She’s not ready for a case this bad,” Hank grumbled.

  “Like we have a choice? If I have to do a purge, I’m going to need a boost of power. I don’t have the stamina for that anymore and you know it.” Zeph was all business now, lighting up a cigarette as he slid across the seat to the other side of the car and began rifling through the central console of the car again.

  Hank met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Josie, you need to follow our instructions exactly this time. Do you understand? This is very dangerous. I can’t prove it yet, and this is purely a hunch, but I have a feeling Fir Darrig is somehow involved. We have to be extra careful.”

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  Zeph took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the crack in the window as he spread out his tools on the seat between us. This time he had a different set of weird-looking odds and ends. “So, brief me already. What are we dealing with?” he asked as he picked up a box of multicolored sidewalk chalk.

  “I got a call from a worried neighbor about an hour ago. A family of five, formerly of six, living in a small farmhouse just outside the city limits. They’ve heard voices, footsteps, and witnessed moving objects. All signs point to fae mischief,” Hank replied. “My source thinks there may have been winged shadowmen, but the family never mentioned anything about their shape. One of the children, a thirteen-year-old boy, has already been killed. He shot himself in the head less than two weeks ago after showing signs of extreme depression and personality shift. They also suspect he may have been dabbling in the occult. Now, the boy’s twin brother is beginning to show the same symptoms.”

  “Dammit.” Zeph shook his head angrily. “So what you’re saying is, it’s probably a sylph. Well, this is going to suck big time.”

  I decided to pipe up before I got lost in all their business jabber. “Excuse me, what’s a sylph, exactly, and why is that so bad?”

  “A wind spirit,” Hank began to explain. “Normally, they ally with the Seelie Court. They’re powerful, and notoriously hard to catch. Unfortunately, one of their best-known tricks is their ability to possess the body of other beings in their sleep. Sylph possession is usually mistaken for sleepwalking. Sometimes they just do it as a prank. You know, to mess with humans for a laugh. That kind of thing is harmless. But every now and then, we come across an Unseelie sylph with a taste for violence.”

  “They’re bad news,” Zeph interrupted. “They do some pretty sick, twisted stuff. Whatever you do, don’t listen to the chimes
.”

  The more they explained, the more I began to realize this might be a terrible idea. I didn’t have any experience with these kinds of things. I didn’t know much at all about faeries and what they were capable of. Yet, here I was, sitting beside Zeph while he crammed his pockets full of sidewalk chalk.

  “This isn’t a good case for rookies to be cutting their teeth on,” Hank muttered like he could read my mind.

  “She can handle it.” Zeph patted my knee. “Besides, I’m going to need a good tether.”

  Hank snorted disapprovingly. “A tether? Using her for that is a little excessive, don’t you think? That’s like shooting mice with a Gatling gun.”

  I didn’t know what a tether was, but I didn’t get a chance to ask. Hank’s phone rang as he pulled the car off a dark highway that led out of town, and we went bouncing down a gravel driveway. He was talking loudly with someone, asking for directions and trying to give our location. We passed several houses that stood far off the road, nestled into the rolling countryside. The trees on the side of the road stood close together, their branches naked of all their leaves.

  When Hank turned onto one of the dirt driveways, he hung up the phone and switched on his bright lights. They illumed the farmhouse sitting atop the crest of a sloping hill. It looked somber against the dreary gray sky. There were no lights in the windows, and as we got closer, I saw that the whole family was sitting out on the front porch. Well, most of them anyway. Two children were missing from their group—the pair of twin boys Hank had mentioned.

  Hank popped the trunk of the car, and the three of us stood, bathed in the moonlight, staring down into the large duffel bag he had stocked full of gear. Most if it were things I recognized—bundles of sage and other herbs, feathers, more boxes of chalk, candles, and bottles of olive oil. Then I noticed the one long black case lying at the bottom of the trunk. Hank went after that one first, and Zeph gave him a wide berth when he opened it and took out a double-barreled shotgun.

  “Iron shot,” Hank explained when he saw me eyeing the gun cautiously. He handed me one of the strange looking shells he’d begun loading into the rear of the barrel.

  I’d never seen a gun in real life before unless it was clipped to a policeman’s belt. “Why iron?”

  “Fae can’t stand it. Burns the hell out of them. Has that effect on anything magical. Magic can’t cross it or pass through it, and if you pierce a fae’s body with it, the wound will most likely be fatal unless they get to a healer in time. If you want shoot to kill when it comes to fae, always use iron.” Hank plucked the shell out of my hand and crammed it and a handful of others in his pocket.

  “But we always try to capture, first,” Zeph interrupted. “Hank’s gotten handy at rehabilitating and pacifying fae so they can be released. One of the many useful talents that his ancestors have passed down through the generations. If we can avoid having to kill anything, that’s always the best option.”

  Hank’s features darkened. “Sometimes there’s no other choice, though. Some fae get a taste of blood and things get ugly real fast. It’s like they go mad for it.”

  The family looked at us with pale faces and big, haunted eyes as we made our way up the front steps. They had already lost one child to this sylph creature, and now another one’s life was in danger.

  The oldest child was a boy who looked like he might be close to my age. Next to him, his sister couldn’t have been more than fifteen. She had braided pigtails and a big coat on over her nightgown. Both of them were stiff with fear as they stared at me. I tried to give them a reassuring smile.

  Hank pulled the parents aside, talking to them in a hushed voice. I wondered what he was saying. More importantly, I wondered if we could actually help these people.

  “What do you feel?” Zeph whispered suddenly, his hot breath touching my ear.

  “Like I’m going to hit you if you keep sneaking up on me like that,” I whispered back. “What are we doing here? These people … What if we can’t help them? What are they going to do? Can’t we call the police and explain what’s going on?”

  “Human police can’t do anything about this, princess. You know that better than anyone, right? Besides, I’m here to kick some sylph-butt.” He gave a menacing, toothy smirk. It was like a reminder; the creature inside the house wasn’t the only monster on the premises. “And you’re here to help me do it. And if we both fail, Hank’ll use that gun to blow that sylph away. One way or another, this ends tonight.”

  “You said the Seelie Court is supposed to be policing people who abuse magic, right? Why aren’t they doing anything about this?” I kept my voice down as we walked past the family, making our way up the porch toward the front door of the house.

  “Because they are disillusioned into thinking they’ve got it all under control. It’s a political game, Josie, just like with humans. They have their own favorite villains—usually the Unseelies they want to see behind bars because it makes them look good. They’ve been ignoring threats like Fir Darrig and his cronies for a long time because of his social standing, leaving the victims of his brutality to fend for themselves. He’s one of the five original pilgrims, and back in the day—before we came to your world—he was highly respected amongst our people. There are still a lot of fae who don’t want to cross him, regardless of whose side he’s on. So, we have to do what we can, while we can.”

  I shivered. It was so unfair. How could anyone be so cruel and callous? People were suffering—dying—and the Seelie Court wouldn’t even look twice?

  “Zeph,” Hank called out as he walked toward us, shotgun resting against his shoulder. His expression was bleak. “They have the boy restrained upstairs. They had to tie him down because he tried to chew off his own fingers. I need to stay with the family. I’m going to move them away from the house. There’s too much fear in them. Even if you manage to drive out the sylph, they’re all so weak that any one of them would make an easy target. If that thing comes for us, I’ll have no choice but to shoot.”

  My stomach rolled, my hands got clammy, and a cold sweat made me shiver.

  Zeph nodded. “Right. I can handle this alone. Do what you have to.”

  Hank looked at me apprehensively. “You’re sure? You could call Freddy. He would help.”

  “No!” Zeph snarled suddenly, his violet eyes flashing like flames for a few seconds.

  Hank just frowned. “Don’t let pride cloud your vision, changeling. He’s your brother—and he has great talent. He could ensure our success.”

  “Stay the hell out of it. It’s none of your damn business, old man.” Zeph shoved past us and stormed to the front door. He snapped his fingers at me like he was calling a dog. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  Hank didn’t reply, although his mouth sagged with uncertainty.

  A smog of grief and bitterness filled the house, threatening to suffocate me if I took another step. My body shivered, cold sweat sliding down the sides of my face as I reached instinctively to grip Zeph’s hand. He squeezed it back.

  The silver wash of moonlight through the windows was all we had to see by. The old wooden floorboards creaked with every step. My skin prickled, as the temperature plummeted. My breath hung in the air like white wisps of fog. Every shred of common sense screamed in my brain. This was a terrible idea. Why had I let Zeph drag me into this?

  “W-why isn’t there any electricity?” My teeth chattered and I inched closer to Zeph’s side.

  His arm was tense, every muscle rigid as he stared straight ahead. “Common fae trick. Most humans are spooked by the dark, and strong emotions like fear make you easier prey.”

  “Prey? For what?”

  “Remember how I said children soak up magic easy? For a faerie looking for an easy jackpot of magical energy, stealing it off a kid is the best way to score. Shitty thing to do, though.”

  “How do they do it?” The back of my neck tingled. All the tiny hairs on my arms stood on end. I couldn
’t shake the sense that something was watching me.

  Zeph’s voice deepened. “You’ll see.”

  We made our way down a long hallway, passing portraits of family memories—of smiling faces and sunny vacations. They hardly resembled the family huddled outside on the porch. There was no more happiness here now.

  “Upstairs,” Zeph reminded me, nodding toward a staircase.

  The moment we arrived at the bedroom door, the thick, coppery flavor of blood hit me so hard I gagged. My body went cold and I stopped.

  Zeph looked back when my hand tugged against his as I backed away. His face crossed a beam of moonlight spilling through the window at the end of the hall. “It’s okay, princess. I won’t let it hurt you.”

  More than anything, I wanted to believe that. I took in a deep breath of the frigid air and steeled myself.

  Zeph pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket and pointed the beam at the door. He was breathing heavy as he twisted the knob. It creaked, and the old hinges groaned as he pushed the door open.

  I covered my mouth to keep from screaming.

  The boy screeched as soon as the light touched him. He hissed, his body warped and disfigured like a tangled mess of twisted limbs in the middle of the mattress. He’d broken one of the bonds his parents had used to tie him down. His clothes and mattress were soaked with blood.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I stood in terror, watching the boy writhe. Two of his fingers were nothing but bloody, gnarled stumps, and there was meaty gore between his teeth when he snarled at us.

  My stomach rolled. I gagged again. I covered my mouth and shut my eyes.

  “Zeph,” I whimpered. “We need to call an ambulance! He could bleed to death!”

  “Calm down. You don’t die from losing a finger. Remember what I said,” Zeph’s voice was strangely calm. He touched my wrist, his fingers leaving trails of warmth on my skin. I dared to meet his gaze.

  I noticed that he had deliberately put himself between the boy and me, like he hoped to shield me in case something went wrong. “Don’t listen to the chimes. Don’t talk to it. It will try to tell you things, to make you feel anger or fear. Negative emotions give it strength and make you vulnerable to possession. Do not let it touch you. Got me?”