Faerie Magic (18 page)

Hope that’s a good sign.

Raptor spun around, claws outstretched, and ran at me again with the speed and agility of a faerie warrior. With magic humming through my veins and manifesting in swirls of blue energy around my palms, my own instincts were equally sharp. I fired a blast of energy at him which knocked into one of his clawed hands, sending him sideways. Raptor made a snarling noise, and wings sprouted from his back.

Crap.

Even with magic enhancing my speed, I couldn’t jump high enough to catch an opponent when he was in the air. Raptor shot up like a rocket, out of range. Swearing, I fired magic at him and missed, and yells from above told me I’d nearly hit the crowd. As I prepared to fire again, Raptor came soaring down at me.

I raised my hands, magic forming a shield, but too late. My body took the full impact and he slammed into me, knocking me onto my side. I bit back a yell, my legs crushed beneath his armour, and his claws sank into my skin.

My left leg ignited, and I screamed half in pain, half in rage. My magic reacted, flaring up in layers of blue light. Though he pinned my legs down, I caught his other clawed hand before he could stab me again, and twisted his exposed wrist. With him pinning me down, I punched him with my free hand, catching the elbow joint. Another punch, a snap, and a yelp. One broken arm.

I used his moment’s distraction to throw him off me, though my bleeding leg wouldn’t be standing up anytime soon. Instead, I rolled over and grabbed his other arm, snapping the wrist. His clawed hand twitched feebly at me, but I punched his face with my free hand, yanking the mask off.

“Give it up,” I hissed in my most menacing Shadow-voice.

He groaned, his expression glazed with pain, and feebly tried to kick me. I punched him in the throat, hard enough to make his eyes roll back in his head.

“Surrender.”

He choked out some incomprehensible faerie-tongue. The hobgoblin’s amplified voice rang out: “Shadow is the winner.”

Shadow could hardly walk. Laughter drifted over me as I struggled to pull my limp leg upright. The claws hadn’t pierced to the bone, but dull pain thumped through me, making my head spin. I wouldn’t be sticking around for the rest of the show.

I nearly smacked myself in the forehead for stupidity. Isabel had given me a small healing spell to carry in my pocket, but it might not be strong enough to heal all the damage. I could hardly show up at the meeting with the half-faerie with a bleeding leg. Great thinking there, Ivy.

Limping from the arena seemed to take forever. Every step made blinding pain shoot through my leg, and the world grew fuzzy around the edges. I stumbled down the corridor, searching for an empty room—any room. Somewhere to activate the healing spell in peace. A lot of faeries had natural healing abilities, but the spells they generally used were a different sort to the witch remedies I carried with me. I also had my phone, in my padded inner coat pocket. And the mage mark, but that was for emergencies only.

Healing first.

I pushed open the nearest door and practically fell into the room, on top of a naked couple who screamed shrilly at me. I yelped and tripped over my own feet, letting the door swing shut.

The second room was empty, thank god. I threw down the spell circle and stuck my leg into it. The worst of the pain disappeared, but like I’d feared, a dull ache spread through my leg when I put weight on it. I’d have to limp out and find Vance before I went hunting after half-faerie drug lords.

Now my head had stopped spinning, I noticed the weird way my magic continued to behave. Swirls of blue danced around me, agitated, and a chill bit at my skin underneath the disguise. I limped from the room, making sure I hadn’t left a trail of blood. That was a risk I hadn’t thought of—my blood was pure human, with or without faerie magic. If anyone found traces and tracked them to me, I’d be in trouble. Luckily, half-faeries had no substitute for tracking spells. Or any concept of forensic science, for that matter. They had no reason to suspect a human had sneaked into their games.

I followed the corridor to the end and tripped over something solid at the foot of the stairs. No, some
one.
A person.

A body.

The redheaded half-faerie kid I was supposed to meet later. He was dead. His arms had been ripped open from wrist to elbow, exposing bone, muscle and pink flesh. A similar wound cut through his chest, where crushed ribs covered the place where his heart used to be.

I’d seen some fucked-up things in Faerie, and even I wanted to gag. Who the hell would murder someone like this? It wasn’t even magic. This was sadism. Swallowing bile, I walked around the body, averting my eyes from the mass of gore at the base of his neck. His face was the worst, though—eyes stretched wide in terror and agony, mouth open in a silent scream. He’d been ripped to pieces by an animal. No way could a human have done this.

The image of a hellhound flashed before me.

Calder?

Why the hell would a Winter faerie—even one from the Grey Vale—rip someone to pieces like this?

He’s Avakis’s son. Sadism is in his nature.

In three years as Avakis’s prisoner, I’d seen my fair share of torture. He’d kept piskies in cages so he could tear their wings off when he needed a quick magic boost from their pain. He’d once cursed three humans to dance until they died. But this wasn’t just torture. The killer had left the body out in the open. Like a message. A threat.

A familiar tang hovered in the air, cold and menacing.
Hellhounds.
The chest wound… I’d bet it came from a hellhound, all right. Or a shapeshifter faerie. The contestants, however, were still inside the arena.

I tried not to inhale the decaying scent of magic as I tiptoed around to his other side. When faeries died, their magic decayed along with the body. As a half-faerie, this guy wouldn’t just fade away. He’d cross over the veil, like other half-faeries who died.

I might have magic with its roots in death, but I was no necromancer. I couldn’t bring his spirit back and question it. Nor did I have a tracking spell with me. Goose bumps prickled my skin, and the icy sensation in the pit of my stomach grew by the second.
I can’t stay here.

Someone would find the body eventually. I wasn’t stupid enough to touch it, illusion or not. My magic swirled in blue clouds, agitated, as though reminding me I stood at a crime scene. I climbed over the body, onto the stairs, and fled as fast as my throbbing leg would carry me.

Once outside, I limped down the alley, sending Vance a message. With the kid informant dead, my chances of meeting the drug lords—or Calder—were shot.

Unless Calder was here. Watching me.

I limped faster, changing my message to ask Vance to meet me on another street instead. My magic was a dead giveaway even with the disguise on. Around the corner, I broke into a half-run. My leg protested at the movement and I knew I’d lost a lot of blood, but I couldn’t meet Vance right next to the alley in case Calder really was spying on me.

The few people walking on the streets stared as I hurried past. Shit. With my disguise active, they wouldn’t be able to see the blood, but a limping half-faerie wasn’t a common sight. I kept my eyes on my path, surrendering every last trace of dignity. Finally, I hobbled around a corner and found Vance waiting. He raised an eyebrow, but closed his hand around my wrist without commenting.

A rush of air, and we were in his study. I fell into his office chair, flipping the disguise spell off.

“What happened?” Vance asked, his hands on my leg. The claws had made a mess of yet another pair of jeans, tearing bloody furrows into the fabric.

“Healing spell wasn’t strong enough.” Before I’d finished speaking, a spell appeared in Vance’s hands. “Also, someone murdered the kid I was supposed to meet. Tore him open.”

My teeth chattered together. Of course Calder had done it. I couldn’t keep this a secret any longer.

I took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

He quietly listened as I stumbled over the words, telling him exactly how my encounter with Calder had transpired, and my suspicions about the death of the other half-faerie.

A long pause followed. My heart beat loudly in the silence.

“I suspected you were keeping something from me,” said Vance. “I also suspected this to be the work of an associate of Velkas.”

“They met,” I said. “I’m almost certain. You know when we were questioning people about the missing children, and they all mentioned seeing a half-faerie with an ash blade?” What with Velkas, and everything that had transpired since, I’d forgotten that particular detail. “We thought they meant Velkas, but he was a full-blooded Sidhe. Maybe it was Calder all along. He has a blade that looks like it might be made out of ash. And armour. Just like his.”

“I see,” said Vance, his voice dangerously calm. “I suspected Velkas had help from the half-faeries. I insinuated as much during my last meeting with the Chief, and I suspect that’s the reason he refused to let me enter his territory.”

You never told me.
I didn’t dare accuse him of hiding information, though, when I’d admitted to doing worse.

“So,” I said, aware of the awkward silence looming over us, “I reckon he was Velkas’s personal servant or something. I’ll bet
he
was the one who spread the rumour amongst the half-faeries in the first place. They might not have met Velkas at all.”

“They didn’t,” said Vance. “The Chief had no idea who he was. Unless he used a disguise, which is possible, of course.”

“And Avakis? Did you mention him?”

Please, no.

Vance’s gaze softened a little. “No. It’s not my story to tell.”

I breathed out a little, but my chest tightened. “Calder can’t live on half-blood territory, then,” I said. “He must be hiding somewhere else. I’d say he came from the Grey Vale, but he—Avakis—never mentioned a son. Most half-faeries—like you said, they’re abandoned here in this realm. Their faerie parents don’t give a crap. But Calder acts so much like Avakis. They must have met.” Or batshit-crazy ran in the family.

Vance studied me. “Perhaps. The way to the faerie realm is closed. Calder is working from this side.”

“Unless he inherited the talent for crossing over the veil,” I said, my heart lurching. “Damn. I never did find out how Velkas learnt to do it.
He
didn’t have magic like Avakis.”

“He was a Sidhe lord,” said Vance. “They have the unique ability to cross between realms when they choose. But you’re right—if the Grey Vale is another realm entirely, and can only be reached through Death…”

“Maybe Velkas only left the realm a couple of times,” I said. “Just enough to spread his rumours. He acted through other people, mostly—like Calder. But he was definitely pure faerie.”

“No half-faerie can walk between realms,” said Vance. “This entire plot hinges on fooling the half-bloods into thinking there’s a way back, doesn’t it? Instead, they’re being fed a lie.” Anger rang through his tone. “This Calder. Did he say he was behind the plan to share the drug with the other half-faeries?”

“He as good as did,” I said. “Amongst other vague villain speeches. You know how dramatic faeries are.” My tone came out steady, though the anger in his voice shook me a little. He didn’t
look
as angry as I’d feared considering I’d lied to him for days, but the humming power in the air made me forget the odd behaviour of my own magic. The blue haze had died down a little now I’d switched the disguise off, making me more aware of the Mage Lord’s arresting presence. I did my best to hold his stare.

“Tell me what else Calder said.”

“He implied he was working with others,” I said. “More than one person… he said they noticed I’d caused chaos in the Grey Vale when I killed Velkas. I asked if he planned to invade us. He said he wasn’t interested in this realm.”

Vance’s eyes flashed. “I suppose not,” he said. “If he’s an exile.”

“All half-faeries are exiles,” I said. “Or… or changelings.” Even the one left in my place when I’d been taken to Faerie. Hell,
Calder
might have been left in my place.

His
magic had been all over that kid’s body. He’d killed him, and left the body there as a threat. To me. He’d probably tortured the kid into admitting he’d agreed to meet me. I’d been wearing my disguise at the time, but perhaps he’d guessed.

I should have come up with a better plan.

Vance’s expression said as much. That, and
you’d better have good reason for not telling me.

I looked away. “Is there a record of half-faeries anywhere? Surely their Chief would know. Shit. That reminds me.” I turned to him again. “I don’t think most half-faeries even know the Grey Vale exists. They’ve been shut out since birth, so they can’t know
that’s
the place Velkas meant when he promised they’d be able to return to Faerie. It’s why they’re so mad I closed the veil. They think I denied them the chance to go back to Summer or Winter.”

“They don’t know you likely saved their lives.” Vance nodded, a gleam I couldn’t read in his eyes. What was he scheming? “I intend to talk to the Chief again myself.”

Whoa. “Wait,” I said. “If you mention Calder, he probably won’t believe you. And if Calder himself finds out…”
He’ll come after you.
He’d been responsible for the death of one Mage Lord already.