by Jayne Faith
Table of Contents
Edge of Magic
Copyright
Book Description
An Important Note from the Author
Books by Jayne Faith
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Edge of Magic
A SHATTERED MAGIC NOVEL
Tara Knightley Series Book One
JAYNE FAITH
Copyright
Edge of Magic
Copyright © 2019 by Jayne Faith
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Edge of magic / a novel by Jayne Faith
Ebook Edition ISBN: 978-0-9996458-7-1
Edited by: Mary Novak
Proofread by: Tia Silverthorne Bach of Indie Books Gone Wild
Cover designed by: Deranged Doctor Designs
Published in the United States of America
Book Description
Runner for the Fae mob by day. Professional thief by night. Haunted by what could have been . . .
Between paying off a debt to a Fae mob boss, working as a professional thief, and keeping up with her busy three-generation household, Tara Knightley barely has time to eat and sleep. But thieving supports her family, and her mother’s life depends on the Fae mobster’s magic, so Tara can’t quit either job. She’s used to the juggling act, but sometimes it feels like she’ll never really have a life of her own. Then she learns of a bounty for a mysterious magical skull. The reward would bring her close to paying off her debt to the Fae mob, finally freeing her from the grip of her powerful, manipulative boss.
She decides she must get her hands on that prize.
But just as Tara is ready to go after the skull, her childhood best friend and crush, wolf shifter Judah McMahon, shows up unannounced and begging for her help. It’s been a decade since the falling out that ended their friendship, and Tara knows she shouldn’t get involved. She doesn’t have time for side projects or distractions. But Judah’s life is threatened, so Tara gives in. The deeper she gets, the more her orderly existence unravels. Suddenly, she stands to lose everything—her family’s home and security, her shot at freedom from the Fae mob, and a chance to make things right with Judah. How will she pull through?
An Important Note from the Author
MY RECOMMENDED READING order for the Tara Knightley Series is:
1. Edge of Magic (Tara Knightley Book One)
2. Oath of Blood (Tara Knightley Prequel)
3. Echo of Bone (Tara Knightley Book Two)
4. The rest of the Tara Knightley books in order as numbered
This is just a recommendation, though—no harm done if you read Oath of Blood first! :)
The Tara Knightley Series is one of several series set in the Shattered Magic story world. So far, the series in this story world include (in order of story timeline):
Ella Grey Series by Jayne Faith
Tara Knightley Series by Jayne Faith
Vampire’s Elixir Trilogy, a Shattered Magic spinoff by Pippa Amberwine
Stone Blood Series by Jayne Faith
Each series is self-contained, though there are a few characters who make appearances in more than one series. Search your favorite eBook store for the latest edition of The Official Reader’s Guide to Jayne Faith Books for more information about the Shattered Magic world and how all the series fit together. For a free copy of the Guide, email me at [email protected].
Books by Jayne Faith
Ella Grey Series
urban fantasy
Stone Cold Magic
Dark Harvest Magic
Demon Born Magic
Blood Storm Magic
Tara Knightley Series
urban fantasy
Oath of Blood (prequel)
Edge of Magic
Echo of Bone
more to come
Stone Blood Series
urban fantasy
Blood of Stone
Stone Blood Legacy
Rise of the Stone Court
Reign of the Stone Queen
War of the Fae Gods
Sapient Salvation Series
dystopian sci-fi romance
The Selection
The Awakening
The Divining
The Claiming
Chapter 1
MOVING WITH PRACTICED stealth, I kept to the shadows of the overgrown hedges hugging the bungalow-style house I intended to break into. At the northwest corner of the foundation, I paused and opened my senses. Yep, there it was, a rhythmic hum that I felt rather than heard. There were a few different notes emanating from an array of magical items inside, but one signal had a distinct reverberation to it, and it felt like the object I was there to retrieve—a Fae-magicked ring that supposedly inspired deep romantic devotion. The ring’s magical song was strong, and it was coming from the basement. No surprise. Many years on the job had taught me that amateur thieves tended to hide stolen items in one of a few places: in safes, attics, basements, or on the top shelves of closets. That last one always got me. Even my nieces and nephews knew to check high closet shelves to get a sneak peek at Christmas presents.
I’d done a few drive-bys earlier, checking out the house and getting an idea of how many people might be there. The job file my boss Katerina had given me said the house was occupied by Renee and Albert Joyner, a couple in their fifties who had rap sheets going back decades, mostly for petty crimes. According to the file, the couple made their living by selling dubious love potions and romance charms online. They appeared to have branched out into stealing magical things of higher value, probably to sell on the black market. The nice old house in Boise, Idaho’s North End was courtesy of Albert’s parents, who were deceased.
I’d waited until all the windows in the house had been dark for over an hour before making my move. The last lights to go out had been on the third floor, where I guessed the master bedroom was. Three whole floors between the Joyners and the basement—an ideal setup for me to get in, retrieve the stolen ring, and get out.
I didn’t love being a mercenary retriever—essentially, a professional thief—but I was good at it, and it paid a hell of a lot better than most of the jobs I was qualified for. Which weren’t many, really. I only had a high school diploma, and my unusual features, thanks to a dribble of Fae blood from the father I’d never met and whose name Mom wouldn’t tell me, made me better suited to a career that wasn’t customer-facing.
I crouched next to a basement window well, which was choked with decaying leaves and old grass clip
pings, and peered through the grimy glass, but I couldn’t see much of anything inside. The paint on the frame was peeling, the wood starting to rot underneath. The little metal latch that kept the window locked was turned, but at least there weren’t any bars over the glass. I sat on the edge of the window well and then lowered myself down.
Standing on the soft pile of organic matter that had collected at the bottom of the well, the ground hit me at shoulder height. That was good. I could keep an eye on my surroundings. I tried not to think about spiders or other crawlies that might be living in the window well.
The Fae ring was singing to me more strongly, the signal coming from somewhere in the basement to the left of the window. I pulled a penlight from my belt, turned the light on, and stuck it in my mouth so I could use both hands to jam the point of one of my throwing knives into the wood frame of the window. I’d expected the wood to be soft after the dump of spring rain we’d had the past few weeks, but instead it was brittle. It took maybe three minutes to dig a slot through it that allowed me to poke the knife inside and start working on the lock. After another half-minute, the rusted screws holding the latch in place gave way, popping out of the wood. The whole latch assembly plinked onto the floor.
I returned the flashlight and knife to my belt, slipped on thin rubberized gardening gloves, curled the tips of my fingers under a strip of wood framing the glass panes, and heaved. Leaves compacted under the soles of my shoes, and I sank a few inches into the debris. Just as the window started to shift, a jangling burst of noise cut through the quiet darkness.
“Shit!” I sputtered, scrambling to get my phone out of my pocket.
My heart tried to jump up my throat as I jabbed at the phone to silence the ringing.
I was sure I’d switched the damn thing to do not disturb. It was part of the short checklist I always used when I was on a job. Then I remembered I’d let my ten-year-old niece, Luna, play games on my phone not long before I’d left for work. She must have messed with the settings.
Smothering the light of the phone’s display against my thigh, I peered around and listened for a long moment. The windows at the neighboring house remained dark.
I cautiously lifted the phone. The noise had been a call from my older half-sister, Felicity. Annoyance spiked through me. She knew I was working. A text from her came through, asking me to pick up milk and bread on the way home. Seriously? She’d called me, putting me in danger, over groceries? I powered the thing off and shoved it into a thigh pocket of my slim-fitting cargo pants.
Using my irritation to fuel me, I yanked at the window frame. It slid upward with a dry-sounding sigh. I removed my gloves and shoved them in another pocket of my pants and shone my light down to see what I might land on. There was a desk directly below the window. It was awkward trying to shimmy down into the window well and in through the opening, but my compact size and better-than-average flexibility gave me an advantage.
I landed on the desk and hopped down to the floor. My black running shoes made a silent landing on the concrete slab, and then I moved cat-like across the basement, flashlight back in my hand. Dust had layered the window sill, and the place smelled like mildew. There were boxes piled against one wall. Another wall had a built-in wine rack, which was empty. The narrow staircase leading up to the ground floor split the wall opposite the window. A chest of drawers stood to the left, the only thing that looked as if it hadn’t been dumped down there and forgotten. The top was covered with small amber dropper bottles, all carefully labeled. Maybe love potion ingredients?
The ring I sought was in that dresser, its magical song calling to me from the top right drawer. At this proximity, I could clearly sense that the ring’s function was related to love and emotions. It came to me as a delicate flutter overlaying the song of its magic. I pulled my sleeve down over my hand before I touched the drawer pull. Some retrievers wore gloves throughout every job to ensure they didn’t leave fingerprints. I didn’t like the way gloves dulled my tactile sense, so I used them as little as possible.
Inside the drawer, I discovered all manner of jewelry boxes, some of which contained magicked items that hummed to me. For all I knew, all the objects were stolen. But I only cared about one. The ring I wanted was contained in a small pale-blue velvet box at the back. I lifted it and tipped the lid up. A cool grin of victory stretched my lips as I recognized the slim metal circlet from the picture in the job file. I closed the box and slipped it into the zippered pocket of my jacket.
Just as I was turning back to the still-open window, there was a faint creak from the top of the staircase.
“Hey!” called a male voice. “Somebody down there?”
I froze for a split second and then backpedaled and turned, light as a ballerina, toward the desk. I’d made no noise. I was positive of that. I’d had my best friend, Roxanne, scan the house for exterior wards, and she’d pronounced it clear. Maybe the dresser itself had been warded. Only magic users who could create wards could feel them. I had no functional human magic, so I couldn’t feel when I tripped wards—one of the few flaws in my otherwise ghostly stealth.
My pulse tripped and sped as the naked bulb overhead flipped on, and heavy footsteps began to descend the steps. I hopped up to the desk and started angling my body through the window. It was going to be a bit tricky slithering out and up.
There was an outraged grunt, and I looked down through the glass, my body already partway through into the window well, to see Albert Joyner standing there.
In one fluid motion, I snatched a shuriken, a flattened metal dart-like weapon, from my belt. I crouched and flicked my wrist, launching the shuriken at Albert. It blurred through the air, the edge hitting him at the base of the throat—my aim purposely well away from any major blood vessels. He jerked, stunned, and let out a strangled cry. I used the split second to wiggle a few more inches though my escape route. The shuriken was designed more to distract than harm, so at worst it had probably only nicked him. Twisting around, I reached up for the edge of the window well.
I flipped a glance over my shoulder to see if he was coming for me. Sure enough, there was a bead of blood a few inches below his Adam’s apple. I could have tossed one of my throwing knives and easily planted it in his arm from this distance, but it was extremely bad form for retrievers to cause serious injury. We were paid to get in, retrieve, and get out. We were to use force only if our lives were in danger.
When he raised his hands, fingers tensed in a crafter’s stance, I knew I was in deep shit. I couldn’t wield human magic, but I could see it when it was live in action. Arcs of power like bolts of electricity shot from his hands. Green—earth magic—twined around my ankles like sparking vines.
Damn! The job card had said Albert’s wife was a witch, but she was only a Level I magic user. It said nothing about his crafter abilities.
“Oh no you don’t,” he growled through clenched teeth, his dark brows lowering over his eyes.
Albert flexed his arms, as if pulling sharply on a horse’s reins, and yanked my feet out from under me.
I twisted around, turning my back to Albert, and flailed for the top of the window well. My fingers snagged the edge, sinking into the soil. Muscles straining, I held on tight. But I couldn’t hang there forever. This needed to end, and fast.
I let go with my right hand and scrambled for a pouch on my belt. Pinching a smooth oblong pill between my thumb and forefinger, I reached down through the window and tossed the object. The spell capsule—an extremely expensive little piece of contained human magic—hit the floor and burst with an ear-splitting pop. Black mist billowed up, quickly filling the room and dissolving the green strands of earth magic on contact.
Free from Albert’s magical hold, I turned again to my escape efforts and scrabbled my toes against the wall of the window well. Within a second or two, I’d hauled myself up onto the lawn.
Down below, Albert let out a bellow of rage, his angry curses ending in a heavy cough as he choked on the mist.
Once I was a few blocks away and certain Albert hadn’t followed me, I slowed to a walk and caught my breath. My car, a twenty-year-old dark-green Land Rover and my most-prized possession, was parked at one end of Crystal Ball Lane, a commercial street running through the North End. It was a strip where one could find all manner of magical items, ritual supplies, and mystical services. The stores there mostly catered to normals—humans with no magic—and most of the storefronts were dark at this late hour.
I took a circuitous route back to my car to make sure no one was tailing me. Confident I was in the clear, I hopped inside the Rover, locked the doors, pulled out my phone, and powered it on. Pulling up my job app, I found the entry for the Fae ring assignment and marked it “retrieved.” A moment later, a message popped up from the Volkov Retrieval Services dispatcher with instructions to meet one of the company’s people at a nearby location. Katerina Volkov, my boss, didn’t like retrievers to hold onto the objects we recovered for any longer than necessary, to reduce the chance of the valuables getting lost or stolen again. She had a handful of security people—couriers—who were on call around the clock to come and claim retrieved items.
I pressed the Land Rover’s ignition button and then steered to the given location, the address of a dark office building on the north edge of downtown. Parking on the curb, I left the engine running. The app would show my assigned courier that I’d arrived. He or she would make sure the area was secure before approaching me.