by Karlik, Mary
Focusing her attention across the room, she pointed to the pot containing the plant. “Come to me.”
The pot slid to the edge of the desk and teetered before falling. Dried dirt and half-dead plant spilled out on the floor before the pot landed on its side next to the mess.
“Come to me.”
This time it skidded across the carpet, leaving bits of dried dirt and peat in its wake.
Almost. Next, she called a hand mirror. It wobbled in the air much like the brush, but made it all the way to her. She called papers, pillows, and a comb. Then she sent them back. With each item, she was a bit stronger and more controlled.
And when she decided she had the hang of it, she faced her sword and swallowed hard. “No mucking around, Tormed. Come to me.”
She raised her palm toward the ceiling and the weapon lifted. As she drew her hand back, the sword began to float toward her.
Elation burst from within and, caught up in the excitement, she clapped her hands. The sword shot across the room, slamming hilt first into the wall before clanging to the floor.
Ian opened the door. “Everything okay?” His hair was free of the confines of the elf-bun and dangled to his bare chest as he leaned halfway into the room. “I heard a crash.”
“Aye. Everything is wonderful.” Layla sucked in a quick breath. She didn’t know what she’d expected. Humans didn’t look that different from elves or the other un-winged, but something about his broad chest and shoulders made her want to stare. It was the same awkward feeling she got when he’d brushed against the very tips of her wings the night before.
She flicked her eyes away from his half-naked human form and focused on the sword again. “Look what I can do.” Her intent was to bring Tormed to the bed and drop it on the mattress.
Instead, she flung it toward the door and Ian had to duck to avoid decapitation.
She waved her hand. The sword flew to the opposite wall and stuck in tip first.
Layla covered her mouth with her hands. “I’m sorry. I haven’t learned how to control it yet.”
“Control it? It as in …?” Ian eased the rest of the way into the room. He wore loose-fitting navy blue lounge pants with the words Trust Me, I’m the Doctor printed along the side.
“Magic.” Layla pulled Tormed from the wall. “It came to me this morning.”
“I don’t understand. You came to a nonmagical place, without magic, and now you have it?” He cocked his head like an owl.
She sat on the edge of the bed and laid the sword across her lap. “I don’t understand either, except that I had a protection bracelet that came off while I was trying to free Esme. I felt a change in me when I lost that bracelet—like an explosion of power.”
“So the bracelet gave you magic when you lost it?”
“I don’t know. I think it may have been for more than just my protection. I think maybe it kept me from using magic.”
“Who would do that to you?” A wrinkle crossed his forehead.
Who indeed. “My mum.” She bowed her head and rubbed her thumb over the dragon stone. “She put it on me when I was a bairn. It was supposed to keep spells from harming me.”
“I don’t understand anything about your world, but why wouldn’t she let you develop your magic?”
“I have no idea.” She ruffled her wings and released a wee giggle. “But I have it now. I need to practice and get stronger and better.” She stood and grabbed Ian’s arm, and could almost feel her eyes sparkle as she lifted her gaze to his. “Now, we have a fighting chance.”
He glanced at her hand on his arm. “That we do.” Then he stepped away and said,
“I’d better get dressed.” He closed the door as he left the room.
Her wings rose along with the heat in her cheeks. She’d touched him—a human. She hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a reaction. Did he know that? Did he think she was flirting? She wasn’t. She would never.
Her wings shuttered. Esme was her focus. Her only focus.
Tugging on her boots, she tried to forget the moment they’d shared. The moment that was nothing—except she was sure he’d thought she meant something. As she gathered her weapons, she wished she could replay the stupid touch and take it out of the picture.
So what now? Should she explain that she’d just been excited? Right, and then he’d have even more reason to think there was something to the touch. No, best to keep her thoughts and hands to herself. Besides, today was the day she was going to find Esme.
When Layla wandered into the lounge, she found Ian standing in front of the cooker. He’d changed into jeans and a blue T-shirt and his hair was tied into a ponytail. Good. No skin to gawk at, no elf-bun to laugh at. Just normal fairy-to-human interaction. No distractions keeping her from her sister.
He turned from the stove. “Do you eat eggs?”
“When can we go to Connor Davis?”
“You don’t waste time. We’ll leave as soon as the team gets here.” He flipped the egg onto a plate next to sliced tomatoes and a slab of meat, and held it out. “Try this.”
She took the plate to the table and forked a piece of the slab into her mouth. “This is fantastic. What is it?”
“Bacon—a gift from the gods—wrought from the pig.”
She coughed. “Pig? That’s horrible.”
“No. It’s delicious.” He flashed a wide smile, the same kind of smile that made her wings want to flutter.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks and hoped they weren’t as flushed as they felt. “Pigs are so soft-spoken and kind. Why would anybody eat one?”
He cracked another egg into the pan. “Aye. Maybe in your world. Here, they don’t speak. Their only contribution is that delicious slice on your plate.”
She abandoned the breakfast and accepted the cup of tea he offered. “How long before the team arrives?”
“Any minute.” He gave her a sideways look. “I think we need to disguise those wings before we go. Can you make them disappear?”
“Can you make your arms disappear?” The words came out more snappy than she’d intended. What was going on with her? Was this her human side reacting to being around its own kind?
“I just asked the question.” He flipped the egg over. “I don’t know how those things work.” He turned from the cooker and examined her wings.
“Stop staring at them, it’s not polite.” She flattened them against her back.
“Sorry.” He reached toward the top of her right wing. “They’re so beautiful.”
Her face flushed. “If you touch them, I’ll skewer you.”
He backed off and returned to the cooker. “Sorry. But people are going to stare at your wings if you can’t hide them.”
“I can fold them over my shoulders.” She demonstrated the effect. “But if I’m startled, they’ll unfurl. It’s difficult to control.”
He looked her up and down. “Even with the wings hidden, you are obviously fey.”
“Really? I always thought I looked human.” She was being cheeky, but it was lost on him.
He scrunched his face. “No. But if we put human clothes on you—maybe a cap to hide your ears—you could blend in.”
“Grand. As long as I have Tormed, you can dress me as a pig for all I care.”
He cringed. “This is a recon visit. The object is to blend in. Carrying a sword is not blending in.”
“But how will I defend myself?”
“You won’t need to. We’re just poking around.” He flipped his egg onto a plate and moved to the table. “Eat your breakfast, then we’ll find something for you to wear.”
She wasn’t happy with the idea of leaving her sword behind, but she had to choose her battles. Maybe he was right. If they were just going to survey the area, it wouldn’t do for her to carry a sword.
As soon as they finished, they returned to Miranda’s room. He slid a door open to reveal a wardrobe full of clothes. He pulled jeans from a hanger and handed them to her. “Can you wear a blouse?
”
She nodded. “I’ll figure it out.”
He swept his arm toward the clothes. “Take whatever you like.”
She pulled a multicolored print from the hanger.
He took it from her and hung it back. “Except that one.” He pulled out a red blouse. “How about this one?”
“It’ll do.” She unbuckled her belt and dropped it on the bed.
Ian walked to the door and stopped. “Let me know if you need help.”
The rough fabric of the jeans was something to get used to and the legs hugged her skin as tightly as breeches, but at least she was able to pull her boots over them easily. The shirt was a little more difficult. She found scissors in the desk and made slits to accommodate her wings. It took her several tries to get it right, and in the end it looked like a werewolf had shredded it.
After she was dressed, she appraised her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung next to the wardrobe. Could she pass for human? Maybe, if it not for the pointy ears and wings.
But it was all she could do for now, so she turned from the mirror and made her way to the main room to find the team assembled around the table situated between the lounge and the kitchen.
Ian slid out a chair with his foot. “Join us.” To the lads he said, “This is Layla, our fairy friend.”
She took her seat and hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.
Ian pointed to a ginger at the far end of the table. “This is Theo MacGregor. He is our IT expert.”
The ginger looked at Layla. “Do you know what IT is?”
“Not really, but I assume it has something to do with the videos Ian mentioned.”
Theo nodded. “Close enough. Welcome to the team.”
Ian pointed to a shorthaired man. He had deep-set dark eyes and a hooked nose. Even sitting, Layla could tell he was taller than the other men and he had shoulders wide enough to fill the doorway with a little left over. “This is Colin MacLeod. We call him Buzzard. He’s second in command.”
She nodded and thought about how fitting the nickname was. “Nice to meet you, Buzzard.”
The man who sat across from Buzzard stood and stretched out his hand. “I’m Jack Dunn. I’m the newest member of the team. I’m the mechanic—the fix-it guy. From injuries to equipment, I can usually take care of it. It’s amazing to meet you.”
“Thank you. Good to meet you too, and I hope we don’t need your special skills.” This man was almost the same size as Buzzard. His skin was slightly darker than Layla’s and his hair hung just below his shoulders in short, tight curls.
“Aye.” He smiled and sat back.
Ian sipped from his mug. “What do you lads think? Will she pass for human?”
Layla flipped her wings over her shoulder. “I can hide my wings somewhat.”
Jack nodded. “But your ears are a dead giveaway.”
Ian handed her a cap with the words New Mexico True stitched across the front. “Try this.”
Theo jerked his head to Ian. “Are you sure? That was…”
“I’m sure,” Ian cut in. “The shop won’t be open for another half hour. We’ll be there when it does. I want to get in before the tourists hit.” He turned to Layla. “I want you to look around. Give us a feel for what you sense we’re dealing with. Don’t engage with Connor Davis yet.”
“Why? We know he has my sister. Why can’t I go in there and take her back?”
Buzzard rubbed his hands together. “He’s a dangerous man. And we don’t know that your sister is in that shop. She could be in a different location. If we barge in there and demand her, there’s no telling what he’d do. We may never find her.”
Ian added, “We need to know what we’re dealing with first. We know the man has weapons in his arsenal. But we need you to assess the more... magical stuff.”
She toyed with the hat. “I see. But we will look for my sister today, aye?”
Ian nodded. “Promise.” He looked around the table. “Okay, lads, let’s move out.”
They loaded into the box-like automobile, which she learned was called a van. Buzzard and Jack sat in the cab while Ian, Theo, and Layla sat on the bench in the back. The van stopped alongside one of the walkways. Ian and Layla scrambled out to join Buzzard on the road. Jack and Theo stayed behind to monitor from the van.
As they made their way up a narrow passage, the air hinted that it was to be a warm, sunny day. Ian led them through an arched opening and stopped. He pointed to letters carved in stone above them. “Here, we call these passages between the buildings closes. They can look alike and get confusing. If we’re separated, look for Burnet’s Close. It will take you to the van.”
Buzzard tipped his chin toward the castle ahead. “At the top of the hill is Edinburgh Castle.” He thumbed toward the opposite end of the road. “At the bottom of the hill is Holyrood Castle. And this—” He opened his arms wide. “—is the high street otherwise known as the Royal Mile.”
Layla looked up and down the road. Seeing it in the early morning light gave her a whole new perspective. Yesterday she would have called it dark, cold, and gray. Now with the sun bathing the buildings, she noticed that many of the storefronts weren’t gray at all. There were blues, reds, greens, and even an occasional purple thrown in to make it interesting. “Beautiful. This is how I would’ve imagined a medieval village from human history.”
Buzzard half turned toward her. “You studied human history?”
“Aye. In school we studied human history, culture, and language. I don’t know how accurate it was, though.”
“And why is that?” Buzzard practically stopped walking to ask the question.
Layla wished she hadn’t said anything. She tightened her wings over her shoulders. “I don’t share the beliefs—I’m half human after all. But there is a mindset that humans are greedy, unkind, and not very bright.” She cringed while she waited for Buzzard’s response.
He shook his head at her as he continued down the walk. “I’ll admit we can be greedy and we can be unkind. But not very bright I take exception to. We’re the ones who’ve had to figure out how to do things without magic. How much brain power does it take to wave a wee wand around and have your breakfast made?”
She rubbed her arms. “I get it. I’ve never had the advantage of magic either. I’m just answering the question.”
“No offense taken.” But the scowl on the man’s face said otherwise.
Layla moved closer to Ian and away from Buzzard.
Ian led them across the high street and into a passage between buildings. He stopped midway through and turned toward them. “The shop is just to the other side of the courtyard. I don’t want to go there until it opens. Layla, could you have just a wee look around the outside?”
As Layla neared the end of the close, her throat tightened and her wings fluttered off her shoulders. She viewed the heavy wooden sign hanging from the awning. Old World Oddities was carved into the wood and heavy purple curtains framed the windows on the inside, where figurines of dragons, unicorns, and elves were displayed. She felt magic from where she stood. But it wasn’t just from the shop. It was all around her.
And it was powerful.
And it was wicked.
Chapter Seven
Ian shoved his hands in his front pockets and took a slinky stance. “Easy. I can almost see your wings.” If Layla’s wings alerted Connor Davis’s attention to the team’s presence, it would compromise their surveillance and that in turn would jeopardize the investigation. And then she might never find Esme and he might never find Miranda.
“Sorry. I have a bad feeling.” Layla drew in a slow breath and wrapped her wings tighter. “I feel magic all around me and not the good kind. Every part of me wants to flee this place. I’d feel better if I had Tormed.”
“Tormed?” Buzzard looked down the passage and back.
“My sword.”
Buzzard leaned casually against the wall of the passage. “The point of putting you in human clothes
is so you can blend in. Wearing that thing strapped to your waist would defeat the purpose, don’t you think?”
Layla’s cheeks reddened. “Aye, I know. It’s just what I feel.”
A twenty-something lass approached the shop from the opposite side of the courtyard. She stopped at the door and dug in her purse.
Ian turned to Buzzard and Layla. “Hanging about here isn’t a good way to blend in either. You two go to the bench on the high street side of the close. I’ll meet you there.”
He watched Layla’s lips flatten into a straight line and knew she wasn’t happy about the directive, but the last thing he needed was for her to get in the way.
Buzzard eyed the girl. “Do you know her?”
Ian shook his head. “Not yet.” He pushed from the wall and made his way through the close to the girl opening the shop.
“Hello,” he said as he approached.
She jumped at his greeting and turned to face him, leaving the keys in the lock. “You startled me. We don’t open for another ten minutes.”
He wondered if she knew who Davis really was. She seemed innocent. Young, wearing a plaid skirt and white blouse, she looked like all of the other girls working in the tourist shops along the Royal Mile. But the one thing that made her different, the thing that had caught his attention from across the cobblestones, was the scarf she wore and the pin that held it on her shoulder.
He couldn’t stop staring at the brooch. “Is Miranda working today?”
The girl shook her head. “There’s no Miranda working here.”
“You’re sure?” He dragged his attention from the pin to her eyes. The unwavering look in them made him believe she was telling the truth.
“Aye. I’m the only who works here besides the owner. But I’m fairly new. She may have been before me.”
“That’s a lovely brooch. Where’d you get it?” He leaned in a wee bit.
She glanced at the pin and slowly rolled her gaze up his chest and neck to his face, not quite meeting his eyes. “It—it was a gift.” The girl reached behind her and placed her hand on the door handle.
Not likely. “Aye. My friend, Miranda, had one just like it.”
