Black Market Magic

by Amy Sumida

  “Please don't leave, Ms. Tanager,” he whispered. “I'd dearly like to speak with you.”

  This seemed way past some mere flirtation. It was weird, and it sent chills racing down my spine. The guy was hot, but I didn't sleep with clients, and I especially didn't sleep with blooders. Blooders were bad news.

  “Maybe another time.” I tried to reach past him for the door handle, but he didn't budge.

  “Please,” he said again.

  “Get away from the car, Mr. Dalca,” I said in a dangerous tone.

  “Ban,” Cerberus growled. “What the fuck, man?”

  “Five minutes of your time.” Banning tried once more.

  “No,” I snapped. “Now are you going to back away or do I have to make you?”

  “All right, Ms. Tanager,” he sighed, but produced a business card, and stuffed it into my hand. “Please call me after you've rested. I promise you, I have the most honorable of intentions.”

  “Uh-huh.” I slid the card into my bra. “Thanks; I got it.”

  Banning sighed again, then eased away, shutting the door for me. I gunned the engine and yanked the car about, but I couldn't help looking back at Banning as I drove off. He stared after me like I was breaking his little, undead heart. But the strangeness didn't stop there.

  Just as I hit the border of golf course turning into forest, I saw a movement in the shadows. A flash of skin. I was instantly alert, despite my exhaustion, and angled the car enough to shine the headlights into the area. There he was, a gods-damned fairy. One of the fucking Shining Ones was standing in the trees of Lawrence, Kansas, watching me like some otherworldly peeping tom. Instead of hiding when my lights hit him, he held up a hand in greeting.

  I nearly drove off the road.

  I didn't though. I veered back onto the asphalt and kept going. If a fairy waves at you from the forest, you don't stop for him. Heading over for a little chat is a great way to get yourself abducted. The Fey were generally considered to be the perverts of the paranormal world. They'd fuck anything, anywhere, anytime. A fairy's interest wasn't flattering; it simply meant you had a heartbeat and were within reach.

  Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. The lesser fey–pixies, leprechauns, trolls, goblins, those sorts–would mount you in a heartbeat if you let them. Most would try even if you didn't let them. However, the elite sidhe, those who were known as the Shining Ones, were a bit more discriminating in their choices of bed partner. That didn't make them any less terrifying. In fact, the Shining Ones had all sorts of seductive spells on their side. They might not technically be rapists, but with that kind of magic, the technicalities blurred. And once they got you, they tended to keep you until you were completely used up. I've heard stories of all manner of debaucheries going on in Tír na nÓg. So it didn't really matter, lesser or greater, fairies were freaks.

  It was that whole hedonism thing. No one did it better than the Shining Ones. They lived every moment of their immortality to the fullest, believing that they shouldn't do anything they didn't want to, and conversely, they should do everything, and everyone, that they did want to do. They ate the best food, drank the finest wine, and wore the most luxurious clothes. They loved to mix it up too. They didn't care who created an item; if it was the best, they wanted it. Several of them lived this side of the Veil for that very reason, the luxury.

  The Veil is what we call the border between worlds. Planes of Existence. Realms. Again, take your pick. These places were laid on top of each other, separated by an invisible sheet of magic. If you were sensitive enough, you could feel the magic, and in some places the Veil was thick enough that even people who weren't so sensitive could feel it. But to cross it, you had to either be magically powerful or know someone powerful enough to take you through. Which meant that the fairy dude standing in the forest, waving at me like it was just another casual night in Kansas, was powerful. And very pale.

  I have good eyesight, okay? I caught a lot in that glimpse of flashing headlights. Though I didn't really need my advanced perception. The guy was really white. His hair was white. His skin was white. I couldn't see the color of his eyes, besides them being pale, so maybe they were white too. His delicate features and slim figure nearly hid the fact that he was a guy, but that he was definitely masculine.

  Not that his looks mattered. What mattered was what he was doing in those woods. Had he been watching me? Listening to me sing? Or had he been there for Banning? Maybe he'd been the blooders's backup, something more subtle to go in afterward on the off chance that the army of blooders didn't succeed. I almost turned around, but I knew I was too exhausted to be of any help. So I kept driving, and left the Shining One to Cerberus. If the dog-god couldn't handle one fairy, he might as well give up protecting people for good.

  Here's a peek into Amy's new RH retold fairy tale collection:

  Happily Harem After

  Here's a few chapters from the first story, a reinvented Alice in Wonderland:

  Wild Wonderland

  Chapter One

  The house seemed hollow without Uncle Ted in it. I looked around the rambling Victorian mansion and wondered how he had made it feel so warm, so homey. Now, it felt like a mausoleum; a place haunted by the past.

  I was entirely alone.

  My parents had died when I was a child; some awful car accident that I don't remember. Uncle Ted was all the family I had–was the only company I had–period. He had looked after me, raised me, and saw to it that I had a good education. Most importantly, he had loved me.

  Yeah, he was a little strange; a fact that I hadn't realized until I had begun to attend school. Then I discovered that not all little girls learned self-defense at age three, or swordplay at five, or jujitsu at seven. Well, maybe the last one, but I'm not certain of that. Most parents didn't have a laboratory in their basements either, nor did they warn their children about touching mirrors or the dangers of unknown holes in the ground.

  My childhood may have been a bit lonely, but it had also been magical. Uncle Ted told me stories about imaginary worlds where men could turn into animals and where kingdoms were divided by the suits of playing cards. In Uncle Ted's world, caterpillars smoked hookahs, mice drank tea, and rabbits wore waistcoats (whatever that was).

  Uncle Ted would have tea parties with me when I was a little girl, warning me that drinking too much would shrink me down to the size of a pea, but eating the cake would restore me. He admonished me to always tread lightly through flowerbeds because you never know when the flowers might be napping, and how would I like it if someone tromped through my bed and woke me up? He taught me the value of time and instilled a deep respect for it in me. I knew never to waste it or take it for granted because that was very rude as well. Ted had been the best man I'd ever known, and now, he was dead.

  I dropped to my knees and sobbed, covering my face with my hands. I'd never made any friends, mostly because Uncle Ted discouraged it. As much as he was a kind and generous man, he was also extremely paranoid. Ted didn't trust anyone and had hammered that same sense of distrust into me. I was angry at him for that because now that he was gone, I had no one. I had buried him without a service since there had been no one there to mourn him except for myself, and then I had come home to this empty house. We were wealthy people, which was probably why Uncle Ted was so paranoid, but money is nothing if you have no one to share it with.

  “Well, it's about damn time!”

  My head jerked up at the sound of the masculine voice. There, on the stairs before me, stood a man. He was about my age, with pure white hair and pale skin. He wore an old fashioned suit without a jacket, but with a lovely tapestry vest, from which he pulled a gold pocket watch. He peered at the watch, then at me.

  “I was expecting you thirty-three minutes ago,” he chided me.

  “Who are you?” I asked him as I stood. “And what are you doing in my house?”

  “This isn't simply a house, my dear.” He grimaced. “It's a gateway.”

&n
bsp; “A gateway to what?”

  “To where,” he corrected me. “And I suppose that was inaccurate as well. The gate lies beneath the house. The building itself is merely a disguise. Subterfuge for the subterranean entrance to Wonderland.”

  “I know jujitsu,” I warned him.

  “Yes,” he drew out the word as he narrowed his eyes on me. “I assume that's some kind of warrior training that Theodore taught you.”

  “You knew my uncle?” I gaped at him.

  “Alice, dear,” he huffed. “I knew your whole family. I was present at your birth.”

  “Well, how was I supposed to know that?” I nearly shrieked.

  “Didn't Theodore tell you?” The man scowled. “That was remiss of him. Perhaps he left you a letter somewhere?”

  “A letter? Telling me that a man was going to meet me after his funeral?” I rolled my eyes. “Sure, it must be here somewhere.”

  “A letter telling you who you really are, Alice Wild,” the man said sternly.

  “Wild?” I asked. “My last name is Turner.”

  “By all that's bloody, it is not!” The man appeared deeply offended. “What an awful name. I suppose Theodore thought it was amusing–turning away from Wonderland or something silly like that. Turner is an action, not a name, and it is not yours. It belongs to an earther, one of those people.” He waved his hand toward my front door. “You are a Wild, the last Wild in all existence, and heir to the throne of Wonderland.”

  “Oh, wow.” I blinked at him. “You're bonkers, completely mad. There's a crazy person in my house.”

  “As if that has any bearing whatsoever,” he huffed. “Now, I assume that Theodore would have left something for you in his laboratory. Shall we?”

  “How do you know about the laboratory?”

  “Alice, do keep up,” he snapped. “I know you and your uncle. I've been here several times to check on you and receive progress reports for Their Majesties. The Card Kings of Wonderland are very concerned for your safety.”

  “The Card Kings?” I asked as I followed him downstairs to the basement. “You just said that I was the heir. Maybe you should rethink your delusions.”

  “Ugh.” He rolled his eyes. “I don't have the patience to explain all of this to you, just hurry up!”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Wonderland!” He stopped and turned to stare at me in bafflement. “Are you a bit slow? Theodore never told me you were stupid.”

  “I am not stupid!”

  “All right then,” he growled, “let's go.”

  “I'm not going anywhere with you! I don't even know your name.” I stopped midway down the stairs.

  “I am Warren White.” He bowed. “At your service, Queen Alice.”

  “Oh, now I'm a queen.” I chuckled. “I can't believe this day.”

  “You must!” Warren declared. “If you do not believe, we are all lost, Your Majesty.”

  “All right, easy now, Warren.” I held up my hands. “It was an exclamation. Although, I'm not too sure what you want me to believe in.”

  “Why, in yourself, of course! And it would be foolish not to since so many others already believe in you. Truly; how much belief does one woman require?”

  “Who believes in me?”

  “Nearly all of Wonderland,” Warren growled. “Enough of this! Let's go, Alice! We're already late!”

  “Okay, Warren.” I rolled my eyes and followed him down to the basement.

  I know it sounds crazy, but I was just happy not to be alone. I didn't care if the man was a lunatic, at least I didn't have to think about Theodore lying dead in the ground while I laid in an empty house. Anything was better than that.

  “Aha!” Warren was in my uncle's laboratory, at his desk, and had found an envelope in the drawer. “Here it is. I knew he'd leave word for you.”

  Warren handed me the envelope, and I saw that it had my name scrawled across the front of it in my uncle's handwriting. I scowled at it a moment before I tore open the sealed envelope and read it aloud.

  “Alice, my sweet girl, there is so much that I haven't told you, but I'm sure that Warren will explain; either him or Nicholas. You can trust them completely, as well as the Card Kings. They all have your best interests at heart because your best interests are also theirs. Things are about to get topsy-turvy for you, Alice. I wish that I could be there to help you, but if you're reading this, it means that time has come to an end for me. It runs here, not like over there, and I have lost track of it, it seems. But your time is now, Alice. I have done the best I could for you. I have given you the tools you'll need in the days to come. Fight, my sweet girl; fight for Wonderland and her people because both belong to you. You are the last of the Wilds, and Wonderland needs you. Remember what I've taught you; all the stories are true. Keep your heart and mind open; love is not always what we expect it to be. All my love, Uncle Ted. PS Follow the white rabbit.”

  “Okay, are you ready now?” Warren asked impatiently.

  “No, I'm not ready now,” I huffed. “What does this mean? Wonderland needs me? I'm the last of the Wilds? Follow a damn rabbit?”

  “That last bit would be me,” Warren said. “But first, we need to make you small enough to follow me.”

  “Will this start making sense soon?”

  “Absolutely not,” he declared primly. “Sense is for earthers; wonderlanders know that the best sense is non. Ah, yes, here it is!” He took a crystal bottle down from a bookshelf and handed it to me. “Just one sip. Too much and you'll be the size of–”

  “A pea,” I finished as I took the bottle.

  “He did tell you! Excellent. Drink up.”

  “This is absurd,” I said as I took the bottle. Then I noticed the label tied to it. Again, my uncle's handwriting. I read, “Drink me, Alice.” I grimaced at the bottle. “Well, that's to the point. Oh, why not?”

  I uncorked the bottle and took a sip.

  “Hurry; hand it over before you drop it,” Warren said as he snatched the bottle away from me and tucked it into his vest.

  His voice seemed to echo around me as my world grew, or I shrunk, rather. I jolted in shock as I stared up at Warren's massive body. His legs were like redwoods.

  “All right, in you go.” He waved his hand behind the same bookshelf that he had taken the bottle from. “Don't worry; I have the cake.” He patted his vest pocket.

  I went to the edge of the bookshelf and peered around it. It was pulled out just enough for a small animal to crawl behind it, or a very small Alice. And there was a hole in the stone wall.

  “Come on, Alice. I don't have all day,” Warren huffed.

  Then Warren's body shimmered and shrank. I leapt back as he became a fluffy, white rabbit. All of his clothing disappeared except for his tapestry vest, which shrank along with him. Warren the White Rabbit hopped past me and into the hole.

  “Follow the white rabbit,” I whispered to myself. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

  “Hurry up, Alice!” The White Rabbit called.

  So, I followed him into his hole. At the point, I really had no choice.

  Chapter Two

  A few feet into the hole, the ground dropped out from under me, and I started to fall. I screamed for awhile, and then I realized that I was floating more than I was falling. I opened my eyes warily and saw the root-veined earth slowly shift into raw stone, and then into polished marble. I ran my hand along the side of the tube I fell through and found myself slowly approaching it as my point of gravity altered. Everything turned around on me, and the walls of the tube became the bottom of a shaft until I was sliding down the slick stone and out into a circular room. My butt skidded across the marble floor, losing momentum, and then I came to a squeaking stop.

  Warren was still in his rabbit form, waiting for me near a curved wall, tapping his foot impatiently.

  “Hurry up, Alice!” He hopped over to one of five doors that were spaced around the room and kicked it open.

  The door War
ren chose was the only rabbit-sized door in the place. The other doors were of a size more appropriate for the average human. Since I was still a miniature version of myself, I didn't concern myself with the other doors, but I did note that they each bore a symbol from a deck of playing cards; the heart and diamond were both red, and the spade and club were black. I hadn't caught the symbol on the back of the tiny door, or if there had been one at all, and I didn't think about looking for it until after I was through.

  Then I had other things to concern myself with.

  At first, I thought we were in a forest; then I realized that the monstrous trunks, slick and green, were actually flower stalks. I had stopped to stare up through the cover of their enormous leaves, at the vibrant petals above me, and Warren hadn't noticed. He just kept hopping ahead, all Little Bunny Foo Foo–until the flowers attacked me.

  With a trumpeting sound, a daffodil knocked me off my feet. Then a tiger lily growled and undulated its stalk down to... well, stalk me. I shrieked and rolled into a fighting stance, ready to punch out some petunias, when Warren doubled back and placed himself before me protectively.

  “This is the Wild Heir, you foolish flowers!” Warren shouted as he thumped his back leg. “Do you not know your queen?”

  The flowers froze, then lowered their heads to brush me with inquisitive petals. I straightened out of my crouch, looking at the monstrous blooms warily. By the time they were done inspecting me, I was covered in pollen, but they seemed satisfied. The blossoms bent double as if they were bowing.

  “Now, if you don't mind,” Warren said primly, “we're expected at tea. I swear, the hurrier I go, the behinder I get!”

  The flowers eased back, properly chastised, and Warren and I continued up the path.