by Karlik, Mary
“Well? Are you going to answer my question?” She backed from the bars of the cage, pressed the palm of her hand against the hilt of her sword, and looked up at him with a scowl.
Still not confident that she wouldn’t cast some spell on him, Ian tried to keep his eyes from bulging like a bullfrog’s as he attempted to swallow past the rocks that had settled in his throat and speak like a normal human being. “Your sister? I’m going to need a little more information if I’m going to answer that question. Like, who is your sister?”
“Esme. She was taken with another fey called Isla. The horseman had them in a net.” The fairy stood in the center of the cage with knees slightly bent and feet spread wide as if she were preparing for a fight.
“Horseman?” He was having difficulty focusing on her question much less his answers. The sword bothered him. The fact that she kept her hand on the hilt bothered him more. At any second she could draw and wield the thing. It wasn’t any bigger than a toothpick, but what if it had power?
“Surely you know. He crossed seconds before me.” She tightened her grip around the sword.
He flinched and braced himself for the moment she pulled it from the scabbard. Was the sword the equivalent of a wand? What if she was waiting for the right moment to zap him with it?
Pretending his fight-or-flight reflex hadn’t voted get the hell out of here, he leaned back and shook his head. “No. We didn’t see a horse or rider.”
“He wasn’t on his horse when he crossed.” The fairy closed her eyes and took measured breaths, as if she was trying to ease her frustration. When she opened them again, she spoke slowly and enunciated her words. “There was a man. He wore a brown cloak like a monk. Do you have monks?”
“Aye.”
“He was dressed as one, with the hood pulled forward so that his face could not be seen. He captured my sister and her friend. But he left his horse and carried them through a doorway to this world. I was seconds behind them. If you were watching, you had to have seen him.”
Ian sat forward. “I’m sorry. We didn’t see a horseman or a monk. The only thing out of the ordinary was you.”
“It doesn’t make sense. He was just ahead of me.” She paced around the cage and then whipped about to face him again. “Are you sure?”
Her sudden movement startled him, but the knot in his gut began to unravel. She was aggravated, but hadn’t made any threatening gestures.
“Aye. We record everything. Do you know what a recording is? It’s like a moving picture.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’re not primitive. You mean like a film, no doubt.”
He held his hands up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I don’t know your world.” Lowering his hands, he continued, “Tomorrow, I’ll have my man Theo review the recording. It could be that this monk wasn’t noticed because he looked like a street performer.”
She kicked the door of the cage. “Well, isn’t this just a bowl of goblin snot. He has my sister and I’m stuck in this wee cage. If you can’t help me, don’t hinder me. Take me back to where you found me. Let me search for her.”
He studied the creature. Could he trust her? The fairy hadn’t taken her eyes from him, but neither had she turned him into a toad. Yet. He needed to convince her to be his ally. Surely her magic could help them get to the bottom of what Davis was up to. Surely with her magic, he could find Miranda.
And if he released the fey? What then?
If she were smart, she’d grow human-size and pull her weapon on him. If he were smart, he’d be ready with his sidearm. But instinct told him that maybe when dealing with this little sprite, he’d need a different tactic.
He looked at the ceiling as if he’d find the answer there. Of course he wouldn’t find the answer on the ceiling, walls, or the table in front of him. He had to go with his gut on this one. Blowing out a long stream of air, he jerked forward and unlatched the cage. “Come on.”
In a flurry of blurred movement, she was out of the cage and off the table. It was so fast he wasn’t sure of the order of things, but between one breath and the next a human-sized fairy, wings and all, stood over him with the tip of her sword aimed at his chest, just to the left of center.
Chapter Five
Ian stared down at the sword and his heart ratcheted into his throat as if it were retreating from the blade. He might have misplaced his trust in her. “Beautiful engraving. Is it your language?”
“It’s Elvin.” She raised her brows. “I have a sword tipped at your heart and you’re asking about the writing on the blade?”
“Just trying to keep you from making sudden movements.” And wishing he had listened to his fight-or-flight instinct.
She pressed the tip against his chest and he drew in a shallow breath and held it as if that would protect him. Committed to the keep-her-calm plan, he stared at the red and black jewel embedded in the hilt. “What stone is that?” His tone was more pubescent teen squeaky than Major Investigation Team leader.
She lifted the tip a couple of centimeters from his skin. “It’s called a dragon’s eye.”
If she lowered the blade a wee bit more, he might be in a position to slide out of the chair and seize the weapon. “It does look a bit like an eye. Is it magic?”
With a flick of her arm, she lunged forward and pressed the blade against his throat. “Now that you’ve appraised my sword, I need some answers.”
His heart collided with his sternum as the edge of the blade scratched his skin. He pulled his neck back as far as he could. “I don’t have any reason to keep secrets from you. We’re allies.”
She jerked her head toward the cage. “Allies?”
Sweat dripped from Ian’s brow and down his temples. His throat was so dry he wasn’t sure if words would pass across his vocal cords. “I am not your enemy. We rescued you.”
“Rescued? How is locking me in a cage rescuing me?” As if the blade wasn’t enough to convince him, the hard set of her eyes sent a clear message that she wasn’t playing around.
His muscles ached as he strained to keep his throat away from the blade. “If you’d lower your sword it’d be easier for me to explain.”
She moved the blade, but not enough for Ian to breathe any easier. “Aye. Now talk.”
“We’re investigating a man—probably the same one who has your sister.”
At the word sister, she lowered the sword. “Okay, Specialist Officer Ian Cameron, tell me everything you know.”
He let out a breath and ran his forearm across his brow. His pulse was still blowing through his arteries and veins, but at a less than kick-some-arse rate. “As I said, we’re investigating a man. He’s the leader of a contraband ring. We saw creatures carried into his shop.”
At the word creatures, the fairy winced and tightened her grip on her sword. His pulse surged and for an instant he thought he might find the blade pressed against his throat again. He rubbed his neck as he spoke. “Until three weeks ago, we thought they were dolls. Then we saw one move and the investigation took on a whole new aspect. We still didn’t know what they were. As least, not until now—until we caught you.”
Her stance relaxed as she listened and Ian’s pulse gradually slowed to a normal rate. “People here generally don’t believe in fairies. They’re considered a myth.”
“Your man asked if he should take me to the chief constable. Something about the proof you need. What’s that about?”
He screwed up one side of his face. “My boss doesn’t know about the creatures—erm—fairies. As far as he is concerned, we’re still investigating smuggled contraband. Until now, we thought Davis was using porcelain figurines to ship drugs in.”
“But he’s really smuggling kidnapped fey.” She sheathed her sword and Ian’s whole body relaxed.
“Aye. We believe so, but to what end we don’t know.” Ian thought over the whole weird situation. Fairies. Magic. Kidnapping. His thoughts looped back to a question that had bothered him since he first realized the creature
s existed. “Layla?”
She absently rubbed her palm across the dragon stone in her sword. “Aye?”
Ian leaned forward. “Fairies have magic, yeah?”
“Aye.”
“Why aren’t the kidnapped fairies using their magic to free themselves?” He rested his forearms on his thighs and waited for her answer.
“I can’t say for sure. I know the net has iron in it. Iron sickens fey. But when I tried to save my sister and Isla, I felt something different mixed with the iron. I think it was bad magic. I think it’s keeping them from moving and maybe even changing them.” She paled and for an instant he saw hopelessness in her expression.
“Changing them how?”
“I touched Esme’s leg and it felt cold. Like ceramic.” She crunched her face as if it hurt to bring the memory to the surface.
“If the magic changes them, then it would make sense that we thought they were dolls.” But not everything added up. “You said metal sickens fey, but you have a sword. Does the metal not affect you?”
She licked her lips and for the first time since she’d been freed from the cage, Ian saw that she was anxious. He’d hit a nerve, or she was hiding something.
“Aye. I’m immune to metal. It’s why I can fight.” Her hand went back to the sword hilt.
Okay, so she was some kind of supercharged fairy with an unusual metal immunity and Ian really needed her help. But he also needed to tell her what she was up against.
He toyed with the identification badge that he’d set on the table. “The thing is, we don’t know where exactly the fairies are brought into this world or where they are taken. We don’t know what they do with them.”
It was time to give her the rest of the information—the worst of the information. He hated this part of the job. This was where the family member of the missing became unhinged. The key was to portion out information a bit at time and allow them to take it in before exposing the really bad stuff.
He pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”
With wary eyes, she stood behind it and held tight to the top of the chair back.
Aye. She knows there is more bad news. The question was, how would an armed and magical creature react? With his elbows resting on his thighs, he pressed his palms together. “We think they’re sold. You need to know that, if that’s true, once they’re sold, the chance of recovering them is zero.”
He paused and looked her directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry to say, if they have your sister, she’s in grave danger. Connor Davis, the man we’re investigating, is bad. Worse than bad. He’s evil. We don’t know if he keeps them alive.”
“If? You said if.” She paced to the kitchen and back. “You don’t know if they kill them. I’m going to believe she’s alive. I’m going to believe that I’ll find her.”
He watched as the fairy’s knees buckled. She fell onto the chair, ducked her head, and blew a couple of breaths. Good. She was working to stay calm.
When she spoke, her voice was strong. “Sold. For their magic to grant wishes, to be sure. It’s happened before in our history.”
He scooted his chair a little closer. “I think we should work together. I can help you maneuver in this world, and with your magic, we can find your sister. We can find out how they’re getting from your world to ours. We can stop them.”
We can find Miranda.
Her wings fluttered—almost like a shiver—and her torso shook as a nervous laugh escaped. “Well, the thing is, Specialist Officer Ian Cameron, you must be the unluckiest Specialist Officer of them all.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “You see, of all the fairies to rescue, you got the one—the only—half-caste with no magic.”
“No magic.” His chest tightened as frustration poured through him. She couldn’t help him and would probably get in the way of the investigation. “How could a fey not have magic?”
“I’m a mutant. A cross-breed. A Fuman.” A tear dripped on her cheek.
Christ, injured animals and tears were his Achilles heel. “Fuman?”
“Fey and human.” She huffed the words as if just saying them stabbed her soul.
As a professional, he had been trained to keep a poker face no matter what was revealed to him. But this wasn’t a thug, thief, or murderer. This was an unmagical magical creature and his face screwed up anyway. “That’s possible?” He straightened out his features. “Of course it’s possible. Here you are.” He bit back the disappointment that tried to sneak into his tone. “So this cross keeps you from developing magic.”
“Aye.” She stared at her feet.
“You have no way to protect yourself.”
The fairy raised her head and fixed her eyes on him as she slid the dagger from her boot. “There’s this.” She stood and placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. “And this.” Flipping her wing up so he could see the bow hanging over her shoulder, she continued, “And I can hit anything with an arrow.”
He nodded. “Impressive. And how do those things work against bullets, or magic?”
She stood taller. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve protected my sister all my life. I won’t stop now. I’ll find a way to save her, with or without your help.” She popped her wings wide as if making a point.
The thwack of her wings snapping open caused his heart to thunk in his chest. His face flushed, but he continued as if he hadn’t just jumped like a kitten.
“We can still help each other.” After all, the capture of her sister and the disappearance of his friend were connected with Connor Davis. And though she didn’t have magic, he had no doubt she’d do what she could to save her sister. Better to keep her close and know what she’s up to. Besides, who knew? Maybe she could fly faster than a bullet and maybe that sword would come in handy.
He watched her mull over his proposal. She had no reason to trust him, but she didn’t know this world and she needed him. He waited for her to figure out just how much.
She folded her wings. “Aye. We’ll work together. What else do you know about the kidnapper?”
“I’ve told you pretty much everything. This man we’ve been watching, Connor Davis, owns a shop called Old World Oddities. He sells figurines of magical creatures and a few books on magic. That’s it. That’s all we know.”
“Let’s go talk to him.” She opened her wings again.
“Not tonight. It’s late and the shop is closed.” And his team was exhausted.
“Even better. We’ll break in and rescue my sister.”
Ian sat back. “You don’t really think it’d be that easy? He deals in magical contraband.”
Layla’s wings dropped a notch and she lowered herself into the chair next to Ian. “Aye. It’s probably protected by magic.”
Ian nodded. “I doubt we’d make it inside.”
She slumped against the chair back. “So there’s nothing more I can do tonight?” He could almost see anxiety nip at her gut.
“No. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but right now the best thing we can do is plan and rest.” He tipped his head toward the kitchen. “Have you had anything to eat?”
Her hand went to her stomach as she shook her head. “Not since early this morning.”
“Come on. We’re bound to find something. What do fairies eat?”
“Mostly fruit.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Of which you seem to be bare.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve shopped.”
Layla opened cupboards. “Maybe I can improvise. Do you mind?”
“Help yourself.” He filled the kettle. “Tea?”
“Thanks.”
Waiting for the kettle to boil, he watched her riffle through the cupboards until she had what she needed. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it struck him as odd that this winged creature was so human-like in her movements. If it hadn’t been for the slow and rhythmic open and close of her wings as she mixed ingredients and poured batter into a pan, he could almost forget she was fey.
Ian leaned across the counter.
“Pancakes?”
“Fairy cakes.” She plopped one on a plate. “Try it.”
He stared at the flat brown disc. “This won’t make me grow wings or anything?” He tore off a piece and popped it in his mouth. At first it tasted like the pancakes Miranda used to make, dripping in syrup. “Not bad.” Then it seemed to blossom into a mouthful of sugar. He cocked one eye. “Sweet. Maybe too sweet.” He pushed the plate away. “Sorry, not for me.”
She took a bite and scrunched her shoulders as if she were relishing the taste. “We survive on sweet things—just as a hummingbird survives on nectar.”
“I’ll stick with cereal.” He moved around her to reach a bowl and her wings tensed. Had he come too close, breached some sort of fairy protocol? Should he apologize? Before he could make up his mind, she scooted out of the kitchen to the eating bar, so he let it drop.
He poured cereal into a bowl and drowned the little squares with milk. “Want to try it?”
“I’ll stay with what I know for now.” She sat on a barstool and took another bite from the fairy cake. “This place is different than I expected.”
“Place? As in my flat or the human world in general?”
“The human world. We study it as part of our history. The pictures in our books are of lush grass stretching in front of rows of houses.” She scanned the flat and waved her hand in the direction of the lounge. “I like the blue sofa and brown chairs. But it’s all very—boxy.”
“Welcome to city living.” He poured the tea and handed her a mug and a jar of honey. He nearly choked as he watched as the fairy scoop four heaping teaspoons of honey into her tea. “Would you like a little tea with your honey?”
She blushed and stirred her drink. “Too much?”
“No. I’m just joking. My sister, Amelia, likes it sweet too.”
“You have a sister too?” She sipped her tea and ogled the honey like she wanted to add more, but refrained.
“Aye. A sister and a brother named Andrew.” He spooned a single helping of honey into his tea, winked at the fairy, and then immediately wondered if he’d crossed a line. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice, so he covered by circling back to the discussion of the human realm. “This is only a small part of our world. There are houses with gardens too. Where I grew up, everybody had a garden.”
