Faerie Magic (22 page)

The trouble was, I’d never beaten a hellhound—or another faerie creature—without my sword. Vance had said he’d fetch Irene for me if there was trouble, but it’d be kind of conspicuous for him to appear in the arena and hand me my weapon.

I glared at the lion, letting the magic from the shield move to my hands instead. A magical shield wouldn’t repel a giant monster. I’d need to go on the attack from here on out.

Or alternatively, do the sensible-person thing and run away.

I did neither. Magic flowed down my arms, forming streams of blue energy, and I sent the wave right at the lion’s back. The lion moved to avoid it, stomping those huge feet. Its mouth opened wide, jaws unhinged, and a jet of fire shot at my face.

I threw myself flat, knees and elbows scraping the floor.
Holy shit. That’s no lion.
I’d met a real-life chimera once before and barely escaped with my head attached to my shoulders.

The chimera roared, spewing a torrent of fire. I continued to crawl along the floor, not caring about the crowd laughing at me. I needed to find a weakness somewhere—or a way to force Lilac out of her chimera form.

The chimera’s blast of fire evaporated, giving me a few seconds to scramble to my feet. Shock had made me drop my magic, but now it flared up again. I leaped into the air when the chimera breathed a fresh stream of fire that very nearly torched the front row of the audience. I slammed down on its back, to its obvious anger. The chimera roared and tried to buck me off, but I dug my hands into the sides of its head.

Shit. What am I supposed to do now?

Answer: hang there like an idiot. The chimera’s fire couldn’t hurt me here, but my fists did no more damage than throwing an apple at a troll. I punched the side of its head and damn near dislocated my wrist. Wincing, I searched for a weapon—any weapon. Whichever dickhead made up the rules—or lack thereof—for this bout deserved to meet with Irene.

I crawled to the top of the chimera’s head, trying to recall how the other half-faeries had bested shapeshifters. Shark’s teeth would be useful right now.

Teeth. Its teeth had a poisonous bite—at least, if it was like wild chimeras.

Oh, boy. This isn’t gonna be nice.

I lay flat on the chimera’s back, gripping with my legs, and lurched forward, throwing all of my energy into a punch at the side of its jaw. The chimera snarled and attempted to throw me off again. I gripped tighter, edged forward, and fired a stream of magical energy. I missed wildly, and this time, its movement sent me flying over its head. I landed on my back, the wind knocked out of me.

Fire flared above, too fast for me to dodge. I screamed, rolling over in pain, hoping to god I wasn’t literally on fire underneath the illusion. My legs burned, throbbing with every movement, but a second stream of fire sent me running. Anger and pain fuelled my steps and my magic, which shone brighter than before. Oh, right. Pain boost. This might come in handy.

I threw beams of energy after the chimera, relying on the speed boost from the faerie magic to push past the pain. It worked—for now—and I got in behind the beast. My next magical assault slammed into the backs of its legs, sending its knees buckling. I kicked it for good measure, regretting the movement when a nauseating wave of burning pain shot through both my shins. The chimera had clearly hurt itself when it fell forward, because it barely reacted this time I climbed onto it. My legs burned with pain and I used my arms to pull myself forward instead until I’d reached its shoulders.

Magic pulsed into my hands and I aimed at the side of its head, missing wildly. The chimera’s huge teeth snapped, and I went with my original plan, using magic to strike at its mouth.

It took three blasts to knock one of its giant teeth loose, but by now, the chimera had crawled to its feet, snarling in pain. My magic must have done more damage than I’d thought. Then again, my legs hurt like absolute hell. Light-headedness swept over me, and I blinked the fuzziness from my vision, grasping its tooth in my hands.

Stupid idea, Ivy. With my hands free, the chimera managed to throw me off again. Once more, my back hit the floor, though mercifully not my injured legs. Gasping for breath, I snapped back to life as another burst of fire singed my jacket underneath the illusion. I rolled over, still clutching the bloodstained tooth, certain my all-too-human body would give out and collapse on me at any moment.

No. I’ll win first. I have to.

The chimera’s huge body lumbered to its feet, but before it could pull itself upright, I’d hit it with another blast of magic in each of its front legs. Then another, in its bleeding mouth. Legs burning, sweat streaming down my forehead, I ran through the pain, shooting it with magic until its side hit the ground.

I leaped, stabbing down with the tooth. Skin and flesh gave way and blood spurted over my hands, crimson and blue.

The crowd’s roar echoed in my ears, turning into a ringing sound. I swayed as I stepped back, holding the bloody tooth.

Hell, yeah.

I punched the air. Eat that, shapeshifter dickheads.

My legs folded, the magic fled, and I passed out.

***

I woke up, to my astonishment, in my own bed. Blinking at the ceiling light, I twitched my feet. No pain. No shoes, either. I gritted my teeth, figuring I’d get the worst part over with and see how much damage I’d taken under the illusion.

I pushed the covers off my legs and winced. Red marks stained my shins, where someone had cut my jeans below the thigh. A spell circle surrounded the bed, along with the scent of healing salve. My head hurt a little, but I could sit up.

Vance Colton came into the room. I damn near jumped out of bed.

“Holy shit. You’re in my room.”

“Well observed.”

I opened my mouth, but no witty response came to mind. Or even the observation that I’d left underwear on the floor and hung bras on the wardrobe’s doorknobs. I kind of wished I was back with the chimera.

I groaned. “How bad?”

“Not as bad as it looked when I got you out of there. How did you stay conscious for the rest of the fight?”

“Probably the magic,” I muttered, hissing in a breath when he reached to apply another layer of healing salve to my shins. Magic-related injuries always healed slower. “Ow.”

Vance moved back and bumped into the bookcase. I smothered a laugh. My room was the size of a cupboard and contained everything I’d owned for the ten years since I’d come back from Faerie. All my spare weapons lay on the desk, while bills—some paid, some not—were shoved haphazardly into drawers. I’d never let anyone aside from Isabel come in. Even the guys I’d dated—the one who’d come to our flat had left when Erwin the piskie pulled his hair out.

Vance, however, didn’t comment on the mess. “You were lucky.”

“I get nine lives, right? Reckon I’ve got about five left.”

“Ivy.” His gaze was stern. “You don’t have a match tomorrow night.”

“How do you know?”

“I listened to the announcer.”

“The hobgoblin. He drew tomorrow’s matches?”

“Yes. Half the contestants were unconscious, so I’m not sure how many took his message in.”

“Who am I fighting?”

“Someone named Chameleon.”

“Could be worse,” I muttered. “Jesus, you’d think breathing fire in the arena would be illegal.”

“Yes,” said Vance tightly. “I was tempted to give the organiser a warning.”

A chill came with his words, which to be honest, was welcome on my burned legs. “Keep doing that.”

Confusion crossed his expression. “Doing what?”

“Making it go all cold.”

He frowned. “I am?”

“It’s when you put on your scary-ass mage voice. Look.” I indicated a stack of papers on the desk, which fluttered in the breeze that had entered the room. “No window in here.”

“Hmm.” Apparently, being scary came as easy as breathing to him. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Cold hands touched my legs. I yelped. “Okay, that’s too much.”

“Really.” The corner of his mouth tilted up.

“Ivy?” Isabel’s voice came from the other side of the door. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

Vance’s hands withdrew from my legs. The heat came back, and I felt a flush creep up my neck too. What the hell had I been thinking?

“Why here?” I asked stupidly.

“Isabel insisted,” said Vance. “Also, there are a large number of mages at the manor. I’m hosting an event there tomorrow.”

“You are?”

“The ceremonial election of the new head mage for the East Midlands is tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh. At your place?”

“No, I’m hosting… I suppose you could call it the after-party. I hoped you might join me.”

I blinked. “Oh, no. I don’t do fancy events.” Seriously? “What the hell would I even wear? This?” I indicated what was left of my jeans.

The corner of his mouth curled up. “You could.”

I leaned forward and hit him in the arm. “I’m not showing myself up in front of your snooty mage friends.”

Oops. Any hint of humour from his expression disappeared. “I thought you’d find it preferable to investigating a murder or fighting against shapeshifter half-faeries.”

Fair point, though I had considerably more experience fighting crazed faeries than I did with fancy parties. Especially ones where he was the host. Did he really think I’d fit in amongst high society mages?

Okay. Maybe I needed to chill—well, I
had
narrowly avoided getting burned to a crisp. This might be my chance to rebuild our relationship—our
professional
relationship, that is. He’d invited me to give me a chance to mingle with the other members of the mage guild, not to make out in a cupboard.

Hmm.

“Okay,” I found myself saying. “I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve nothing to wear.” Or any cash to buy new clothes with.

“Don’t worry about it.” His cool grey eyes met mine. “Sleep for now.”

“Hey, wait—”

Too late. He’d vanished.

Isabel appeared in his place. “Shit, Ivy. What did you face?”

“A fire-breathing lion.”

Her eyes said,
holy shit.
“That contest will be the death of you.”

“Only two rounds to go.” I sat upright. The marks on my legs had almost faded, though the jeans were a lost cause. Unless I cut them more neatly and turned them into a pair of shorts. Hmm, that could work. When you found yourself with a significant lack of cash, improvising came naturally.

“Did I hear him inviting you out?” she asked.

“There’s a fancy event on tomorrow at the mages’ place,” I said, standing up. My legs barely stung. “But he doesn’t seem to realise I literally have nothing in my wardrobe suitable to wear without being laughed at.”

“I’ll see if I can find something,” said Isabel, a glint in her eye. “What I said—I meant it. He looked so mad when he brought you in here. Like I mean, it was scary as hell, but kinda sexy.”

“Since when did looking like a serial killer qualify as a sign of him being romantically interested in me?” I knew exactly what she meant, though. “He’s my boss. If I hook up with him and then he disappears again—”

“So you’re considering it, hmm.” She tilted her head. “I don’t think he’ll disappear. Especially now he’s inviting you to his social events.”

“All employees are invited,” I said. “I’m the only non-mage. Anyway, where’s my sword?”

“Where it’s always been,” said Isabel, stepping aside to let me pass into the narrow corridor between our rooms. Irene rested against the wall beside the door.

I sighed in relief. “Next time a chimera tries to torch me, I’m breaking the rules and bringing my sword.”

Isabel approached me from behind. “I found something else today.” She indicated a glass case on the side table. A small winged figure lay curled up asleep inside it.

I walked closer. “Er… why’s Erwin trapped in there?”

“It’s not Erwin,” said Isabel. “It’s one of those piskies who escaped from the garden shed. You know the ones who tried to break the wards?”

I blinked. I’d forgotten all about that—unsurprisingly. “Why’ve you trapped him in there?”

“I knocked him out,” she said. “I ran into him near the coven meeting site and he tried to chew my ear off. I know piskies are hyperactive, but they aren’t normally aggressive, so I brought him here to find out why.” She looked at me intently. “He had the drug. And I’ll bet the other piskies did, too.”

I gaped at her for a moment. “But… damn.” What had they been—a test run? The piskies had been running amok for weeks, I remembered—the owners of the house had waited until the last second before reporting them. “The explosion in the shed… was that the drug?”

“I wondered,” said Isabel. “So I sneaked back into their garden and used a tracking spell. Someone set up a trap. It was dark in the shed so I couldn’t see much, but I’m certain it was one of
them.
A half-faerie. I saw them in the vision.”

Calder?
Why would he bother with piskies, even his lab rats? “Okay. I don’t even know what to think. Why wind up piskies?” I walked to look closer at the glass case. “I’d be careful. Calder is still wandering around, and I wouldn’t put it past him to have people tailing me. If he figures out we know one another, like Velkas did…”