by Karlik, Mary
He turned to the sad fairy sitting next to him on the bench. He wouldn’t share his suspicions. He needed her help and the best way to ensure she was all in was to make her believe there was a chance to save her sister. Besides, there was no proof that the situation was beyond hope.
But she wasn’t finished. “I think the cages are sealed with magic. I couldn’t see a lock or a door. And there’s more.”
Ian nodded. “Go on.”
She drew in a ragged breath and her face paled. “The horseman was there. We battled with magic. I didn’t win. I don’t know why, but he let me live and didn’t stop me from escaping. But I do know what we’re dealing with.”
The quiet in the church seemed to take on a heavy quality.
Ian watched Layla’s stare move between him and Buzzard and then she shifted her wings as if that would help her organize her thoughts. “There is a place in my world that only those with a heart full of hate and blackness would go. In the fey language it’s called dubh-reòthadh.”
“Black Frost.”
Layla narrowed her gaze at Ian. “You speak fairy?”
“No. The accent is different, but the words are Gaelic—my native tongue.”
Buzzard raised his brows and leaned forward. “That’s all well and good, but what does black frost have to do with your horseman?”
“He’s a Dark Harvester. He doesn’t have an essence—a soul. Our magic is bound to our souls. Dark Harvesters steal the magic of others, but with nothing to bind to, it will fade.”
Buzzard leaned against the pew. “Are there many of these... Harvesters?”
“I don’t think so. My auntie told us stories about them, but I’d always thought they were just legends to keep us in line—Kenna and Esme anyway, as I didn’t have magic. She’d tell them they’d better behave or the Dark Harvester would come and snatch their magic.”
“A magic harvester.” Ian leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs and pressed his palms together. “What happens if he takes your magic?”
“He tried. It was a burning pain like nothing I’d ever felt. I imagine if he’d continued I wouldn’t be talking to you now.” She said the words without emotion, like their meaning held no weight. Layla shook her wings like she was trying to dislodge a bad memory, opened her mouth and then closed it again.
Ian turned toward her. “Whatever it is, you can say it to us.”
“The magic knowledge I have is limited to what I’ve learned in books, what I’ve seen, and a few hours of experience. I’m no expert, but—” Confusion wrinkled her forehead. “Twice the Dark Harvester released me. He had me. He could have taken my magic, he could have taken my life, but he didn’t. His magic has been in my mind.” She tapped her temple with her fingers. “Something surprised him. I saw it on his face. Probably it’s just that I’m half human, but it bothers me still, like maybe there’s more to it.”
“Could he want something from you?” Buzzard asked.
She shrugged her wings. “Maybe.” She turned to Ian. “Maybe the cràdh scared him. But when I die, so does the spirit. It’s no threat to him.”
Buzzard cocked his head. “Cràdh?”
Ian answered for her. “It’s a spirit parasite that feeds off negative emotions.” He raised his brows at Layla for confirmation. She nodded and he went on, “But as you said, that doesn’t quite add up. No offense—he could kill you and be rid of it.”
She almost smiled. “None taken. He let go, but he followed me here—right to the gate. I’m safe here in the kirk because a soulless being cannot enter a holy place. I wish I knew what he was up to.”
Ian leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “Would he be after that beautiful sword of yours?”
Layla rubbed her hand across her forehead. “It is beautiful, but it doesn’t have special power.”
Buzzard scratched the bottom of his chin with his knuckles. “Are you sure? You didn’t think you had magic either.”
Ian watched Layla’s eyes narrow. Before she shot another barb at Buzzard, he spoke. “Regardless, we need to keep you safe. You said the horseman or harvester or whatever you call him couldn’t come inside the church. I’m assuming that if you go out, he could be waiting.”
“Harvester. Dark Harvester, to be exact. And aye, he could be waiting. But you should know, wee man, I won’t be holed up here like a scared girl.” She stood and glared at Buzzard. “I didn’t mean to waste your time looking for me. I won’t get in your way again. But I need my weapons.”
Ian had seen grit in the fey before. But this time there was an edge to it. There wasn’t a trace of the hopeless fairy he’d seen when they’d found her in the kirk. She was in full-on warrior mode. He had no doubt she would hold her own in any fight. But he couldn’t let her fight alone. “If you’re going to face this Dark Harvester, you need help—even if it’s of the non-magical variety. And we need a plan.”
Layla flicked her gaze at him. “We?”
He flattened his palms on his thighs. “We agreed to work together.” He raised his eyes to Buzzard. “Aye?”
Buzzard dropped his arms to his sides. “Aye.”
Ian sat up. “Good. So tomorrow we’ll go to your building underground. Once we’re in, what then? Six iron cages of fey. How do we get them out?”
“With my magic.” She looked around the empty church and stretched her wings wide. “But the underground is a labyrinth. Buzzard was right. I was lucky to get out. Finding the building again could take some time.”
Buzzard rubbed his hand across his scalp. “Can you use your magic to find it?”
She shook her head. “I can home in on things that are mine—like my sword. I can’t just pick a place and go.”
The heavy door in the back of the church opened and a crowd of tourists poured in. Layla snapped her wings tight over her shoulders as Buzzard moved in front of her and said, “We need to leave.”
Ian said to Layla, “What about the Dark Harvester?”
“If he’s out there, I’ll sense him. And I don’t think he’ll attack me in a crowded place.”
“Then we need to go somewhere crowded.” He stood and started toward the door. “Do you want to try traditional human food? There’s a pub not far.”
She pressed her hand against her stomach. “Aye. If it’s not some poor creature I talk to.”
“Do you talk to fish?” He led her toward the door.
“No.”
“Then I think you’ll like this place.” He pulled his mobile from his pocket. “I’ll text the lads.”
The pub was narrow and long. Dark wooden tables were crammed together on the left side and a bar took up the right wall. The room narrowed at the far end of the bar, but Layla could see a passage to another, larger room.
Ian was right, it was crowded, and it took Layla a few minutes to adjust to the volume of people trying to be heard over the music.
They were led to a corner booth in the front room across from the bar. Layla had to eat, to be sure, but it’d been almost two days since her sister had been taken and she was anxious to get back to the hunt. It didn’t help that after they received their drinks, a lighter mood fell over the lads. Time was passing. Didn’t they care?
Theo looked across the table at Layla. “Do you have pubs in your world?”
“Aye.” She tried to keep the irritation out of her voice, but the word came out sharply anyway.
Theo continued. “Is it very different?”
“Why are you drinking and making small talk when we need to be saving fairies?” Layla snapped.
Theo sat back and stared into his drink. Buzzard’s face flushed. Jack crossed his arms, clicked his tongue, and looked away. The only one who didn’t display his displeasure at her outburst was Ian.
Ian angled his body toward her. “We’re tired and hungry. It’s been a long day. These men have put their lives and careers at risk to help you. I know things aren’t moving as fast as you’d like, but what do you think would have happened if we’d run s
lipshod into the tunnels after the Dark Harvester?”
He was right, of course, and she was embarrassed by her outburst. But none of that soothed the anxiety clawing up her throat. She rubbed her hand down her neck. “Aye.” She looked at the men around the table. “Truly, I am sorry.”
Ian wrapped his hand around his whisky glass. “There’s no use in going after the fairies without a plan, especially with exhaustion wearying our bones. We’ll rest and go before sunrise tomorrow.”
“Aye. Thank you.” Layla gave Theo an apologetic smile. “Our pubs are almost the same. Except in a magical bar, the bartender can float the beer across the room to the table if he has a mind. And there’s a game we play called Ronkey.”
Theo softened his jaw enough to let a wee smile escape. “Excellent. I’d like to see a beer float across the room one day.”
Jack peered at her over his drink. “What’s Ronkey?”
“A card game involving luck and silly hats.” She smiled wide at the lads in an attempt to make amends. “Tell me about your world. What’s the best part?”
Theo raised his glass. “Innis and Gunn ale.”
Jack shook his head. “Whisky.”
Ian swirled the whisky in his glass. “And what does wee fairy whisky taste like?”
Layla closed her eyes and ran her tongue along her lips as if a drop of fairy whisky rested there. “In my language it’s called uisge-beatha. It literally means water of life.”
Jack raised his glass. “That it is.”
Buzzard pushed his glass toward Layla. “Peace offering. Do you want to try a wee bit of whisky?”
She eyed the golden liquid and almost took him up on the offer. “Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but I’ll wait until I rescue my sister. I need a clear head until then.”
“And so do you lads.” Ian turned to Theo. “The fairies are in a building in the tunnels. Do you think you can help us find our way down there?”
“Maybe.” Theo turned to Layla. “Did you notice a name by the entry to the tunnel?”
“No. I was focused on following the troll.”
Jack’s glass stopped halfway to his mouth. “Troll?”
Ian wriggled his brows. “In the literal sense. A troll dressed like a human.”
Jack slammed his drink down his throat. “Aye. That’s one for the memoirs.”
Theo leaned across the table toward Layla. “Is there anything you can remember about the place you went into the tunnels?”
She nodded. “There was a courtyard between the close and the entrance.”
Theo winced. “I think I know the place. It’s been shut off for years. Very few know about it. Fortunately, it ties into Mary King’s.” To Layla, he asked. “Did you go through an iron gate?”
She nodded.
“Aye. It’s the place.” He sipped from his glass. “Not the easiest way down, but I’ll sort it out.”
Ian set his whisky on the table and turned to Jack. “Anything new on the shop?”
“No. But I get the sense he’s planning something. It’s too quiet. There were no tourists in the shop.”
A girl about the same age as Layla came to the table with pad in hand. “Are you ready to order?”
“Do you trust me?” Ian bumped Layla’s shoulder with his.
The feel of his shoulder connecting with hers sent ripples down her arm just like when she’d touched him this morning. Was it a human/fairy thing? She didn’t know whether to close her eyes and enjoy the sensation or block it out and avoid all physical contact in the future.
Instead, she hid her reaction with a suspicious look. “Should I?”
“Absolutely. Salmon for the lassie.” He flashed her a too-big smile. “You’ll thank me.”
She didn’t thank him, but she raved about the flavors. At the end of the meal she folded her napkin on the side of her plate and closed her eyes. “This was loads better than fairy cakes.”
Ian laughed. “We’re not barbarians after all.”
She was about to remind him that she’d never said that when her attention was drawn to a man shoving money in his pocket. She elbowed Ian. “Let me out of the booth.”
He followed her gaze. “Is that the troll?”
“Aye. Let me out.”
He looked at Theo. “Stay on him.” To Layla he said, “Let Theo have a look. I don’t like the idea of your being out there with the Harvester after you.”
She watched Theo slide out of the booth and casually follow the troll out of the pub. As frustrating as it was to remain behind, Ian was right. After all, Theo was trained in this sort of thing.
Ian folded his hands on the tabletop. “Right. Time to get serious.” He looked at Jack. “It doesn’t feel right that there were no tourists at the shop. The street is packed with them.”
Jack nodded. “People milled around outside, but nobody—not one person—entered the shop.”
Layla sipped her water. “He probably has some sort of ward on the shop.”
Buzzard looked up from his phone. “Ward?”
“A spell that keeps people away. Sometimes they make the potential intruder feel sick or uneasy. Other times they’re so sneaky the intruder thinks they’ve just changed their mind.”
Ian smiled at Layla. “The shop is still open. How about if we pay a little closing-time visit?”
“Aye.” Layla pushed her plate toward the middle of the table. “If I go inside I might get a sense of what he’s up to.”
Ian nodded. “Jack, keep watch from the street. Buzzard, you and I will go in with Layla.”
Layla followed Ian to the shop, but as they neared, her nerves splintered one by one until she was a quivering mess.
“Still with us?” He put a hand on her back.
The sizzles his touch caused did nothing to settle her nerves. “Give me a second to catch my breath. I’ve never felt such powerful magic.”
“You don’t have to go in.” He dropped his hand and glanced at Buzzard. “Stay with her.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.” The top edge of her wings ruffled like curtains blowing in a gentle breeze. She took a deep breath. “Ceann sociar. Smaointeann soilleir. Aon cheum aig aon àm.”
Buzzard reached for the door. “What does that mean?”
“It’s something my mum used to say. Roughly, it means Calm head. Clear thoughts. One step at a time.”
Ian nodded. “Definitely calm head and clear thoughts.”
A bell jingled as they stepped into the small shop. Across from the door was a wall filled with books. A wooden sign hung above the books with the words Witchcraft and Magic burned into it. To Layla’s left was a display of figurines of elves, ogres, unicorns, and everything else from her world—except fairies.
Where were the fey?
Then she turned to her right and her breath caught as her wings snapped open, lifting her from the ground. Ian and Buzzard each grabbed a hand and pulled her down as she made sense of the scene before her.
Heavy purple curtains matching those in the window led to another room. But to the right of the curtains and directly behind a counter, were three long shelves filled with globes.
And inside those globes were fey.
Layla drew in a deep breath and flattened her wings against her back just as the tap of a walking stick sounded from the back room.
Magic was coming and it was strong. Stronger than anything she’d ever experienced.
Stronger even than the Dark Harvester.
Chapter Ten
Terror screamed through Layla as a man walked from between the curtains. He had spiky black hair and the leathery skin that covered his face looked two sizes too small. A scar extended from just beneath his right eye to the corner of his mouth, giving him a permanent snarl.
He stopped behind the counter with his right hand wrapped around a small globe set on top of a walking stick. His black eyes narrowed to slits as stiffened his spine and sniffed, before his lips undulated into a smarmy smile. “May I help you?�
�� The words slithered from his mouth and chills slid across Layla’s skin.
Buzzard stepped forward and said, “We’re looking for souvenirs. How much for a fairy globe?”
The man locked his gaze on Layla. And before she realized what was happening, his magic seeped into her system, wrapped its power around her lungs, and held them hostage. Her lips tingled, and fogginess filled her mind as life-giving air was denied her. She couldn’t scream for help, or move, or breathe while it probed for her strengths and weaknesses.
Somewhere, like a distant echo, she heard her name and maybe felt a nudge. But it didn’t matter—she was a prisoner of the invading magic. She heard her name again—this time closer and more forceful.
And all at once the magic fled her body. She sucked in gulps of air and her wings fluttered as awareness returned.
Ian was folded across the counter holding the man by his necktie.
The man wheezed. “Release me.”
Buzzard shook Ian’s shoulders. “She’s back.”
Ian let go with an extra shove. “What did you do to her?”
The man took a step back and cranked his neck left, then right. “Do to her? Clearly, since I’m behind the counter and she is not, I didn’t touch her.”
“You used magic on her.” Ian leaned closer.
He cranked his neck again. “Magic? I think you’ve had one dram too many.”
Layla lunged forward and screamed, “Give me back my sister!”
She didn’t get far before the man raised the walking stick and a wall of energy knocked her backward.
Ian caught her before she crashed into a display of porcelain elves. She trembled from scalp to toes as the men rushed her from the shop.
As soon as they were outside, Layla turned to run back, but Ian caught her by the waist and held her. “Layla—wait.”
“He has my sister.” She fey-sized and flew toward the shop.
