Guardians of Magic: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (Guardians of the Fae Book 1)

by Elizabeth Hartwell

  “That’s admirable of you,” says Jacob, “but hypocritical. We watched in awe this morning as half a dozen of New Haven’s finest sat around doing nothing as a crowd beat a shifter boy. If he hadn’t been able to engage his wolf form in a last-ditch fight or flight response, he would have been strange fruit from a lamp post . . . while the police watched.”

  “I–I heard about that,” I admit. “But we’re not all like that, just like not all of them are criminals.”

  “Sorry, Eve,” Tyler says, “but how many times do we have to tell you that you’re in danger? You’ve seen the news. What do you think will happen if those disgusting vigilantes see you?”

  I glance at the door, but Jacob follows my eyes, shaking his head once. “Don’t even try it, honey buns. We’re waiting on Cole.”

  Stymied, I go to the window and watch helplessly as the fight moves up the street. Turning away, I glare at them in frustration.

  Suddenly, I hear a whooshing noise, and I jump behind the couch just as a hover drone flies by, its 360-degree camera taking in everything. Luckily, Tyler and Jacob have their backs turned, but as the drone flies away, I sit up, panting in worry. “Jesus . . . I didn’t even think. I never have liked those fuckers. Guess they really brought out the red carpet to find me.”

  “And that’s exactly why you have to stay out of sight,” Jacob says, raising his hood as he and Tyler quickly close the curtains to the condo. “About two minutes after you hit the sidewalk, you’d be swooped up. You’ll be no use to your sister or anyone else if you end up getting captured again. Or worse, killed.”

  Letting out a defeated sigh, I plop down on the coach, pissed off that I’m helpless. They’re right, and I hate it, hate sitting on my ass when I could be helping. Hate not being there for Alyssa. “I need a decent whiskey before I make your heads go splat.”

  Jacob chuckles. “I happen to know a thing or two about whiskey. And I just happen to have found a bottle of eighteen-year-old Ardmore with your name on it. Tyler?”

  Tyler nods, going to the kitchen to pour a tumbler of scotch and water while Jacob picks up my left foot and starts rubbing it. When Tyler brings me my drink, he starts on my shoulders, and I sigh. I’m so weak, or maybe these two really do have magic fingers. “You guys really know how to make a girl turn to silly putty. Where’d you learn this?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Jacob says, chuckling. “Not mad at us anymore?”

  “I was never mad at you. I understand what you’re saying. I’m just frustrated about this situation I’m in. Tell you what. Finish telling me about Lunaria. I need the distraction.”

  Jacob nods, working the arch of my foot and making me whimper. “A lot of the things you thought were just fairy tales, excuse the term, are there. When the realms separated, everything that wasn’t demonic but still liked to munch on faeries followed us.”

  “Like what?” I ask, sighing happily as Tyler strokes my hair.

  “Dragons, for one. They can be dark or light, although all are quite nasty. Then there are trolls, griffins . . . too many to list. Our government isn’t perfect either. Lunaria is still very much like a medieval system, and the common man doesn’t have a lot of rights you enjoy. Not all faeries are good either. There are dark faeries. The place is far from perfect and the system needs work, but the love and joy of living seems to flow through the air like music.”

  He’s looking at me with those burning eyes again, and it’s so tempting, so easy to get lost in them. “Ow! Fucking shit!” I blurt, holding my head.

  Jacob and Tyler both immediately stop what they’re doing and check on me, worried looks on their faces. “What’s wrong?”

  “A sharp pain in my head, coming down with a sudden migraine.”

  Tyler turns my chin to face him, his eyes swirling and his face grave. “Give me a look.”

  “I know, I know,” I tell him as he checks my eyes and touches my head with his sensitive, perceptive fingers. “It’s my powers, but I wish it came with an instruction manual to make it stop. I think it’s the stress of everything that’s making it worse. Seeing Alyssa looking so scared, and now these vigilante assholes causing trouble . . .” I shake my head, tears in my eyes. “It’s too much.”

  “There is one way to make it stop. Temporarily,” Tyler says, his voice low, and my breath catches.

  “If you’re talking about . . .” I say before closing my mouth. While the very thought of being with my guardians again is intoxicating, the shit show going on outside and my worry for Alyssa dampen my arousal.

  Tyler gently shakes his head, indicating that I mistook his meaning, and he scoots back, taking my hands. “Okay. Like Cole said, all Fae have certain shared abilities, even if men and women tend to show their magic differently. One of the simplest common forms is Faelight. It’s sort of a fireball that we can create as a type of lantern or flashlight.”

  “I’m not sure I follow, but show me.”

  Tyler stands up. “Here . . . like this.”

  I watch, deeply intrigued, as Tyler holds his hands about six inches apart and focuses for a few seconds, muttering a word softly. After a moment, a glowing, flickering ball appears between his hands. With a smooth flick of a wrist, he holds it up in one hand before letting it wink out. “Yours should be much stronger, but almost all Fae can create a basic Faelight.”

  As I look on in amazement, Jacob repeats the trick, and his ball is tighter, brighter, without any flickering, which he blows out with a small pop. “Now, hold your hands here, and focus on the idea of making a ball of light. Not fire, but light,” he says, his voice calm and instructive. “Imagine the light swirling, bending, and forming a ball.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, I try, and I’ll admit that I’m not exactly talking like a lady the whole time as I try with all my will to have light form between my fingers. “I can’t—”

  “Think happy thoughts,” Jacob says. “It opens up the parts of your mind that are closest to the Fae magic. And repeat after me—it’s the old word for fire—taen.”

  I nod, bearing down, and suddenly . . . “I feel it,” I whisper, sweat beading my brow. I feel something turn in my head, like a stuck water faucet creaking open, and I smile. “Taen . . . there!”

  I stare in wonder as a beautiful light, swirling with all the colors of the rainbows, forms between my hands. They twist and twirl, greens and blues and reds, purples and—

  “That’s amazing!” Tyler whispers, watching in total rapture. “I’ve never seen one like this before!”

  His praise exalts me and lifts my spirits. Finally, some progress. It might be a child’s trick by Fae standards, but I feel like I’ve tapped into a muscle that I’ve barely used before, and now that I know it exists, I can do something with it. I can find some control.

  And without a doubt, I have magic. It’s not destructive, either. I don’t feel any heat and it’s not blowing anyone to smithereens. It’s just a beautiful globe of light. For the first time in two days, I have hope that I can learn to love my new state and not think that I’m a freak who’s about to destroy the world. Maybe, just maybe, I can use this to help.

  “Guys, this is so beautiful,” I whisper, trying to raise it in one hand like Tyler did. “I love it—”

  A sudden jolt of power in my mind runs down my arm, and the globe seems to glow with a different light than before. This one is green, but a different shade of green that’s blending with the other colors. The ball starts dancing around before flying out of my hand, careening around the room like a drunken bird as it twitters.

  “Hey, what the hell is happening?” I ask. “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Seems like your flame’s got a mind of its own,” Jacob says. “Were you at any time thinking kame-hame-ha?”

  “Wiseass,” I reply, dimly recognizing the Dragon Ball-Z reference from watching one too many cartoons with Alyssa when we were little, before ducking as the flaming ball whooshes by, this time, definitely giving off heat. Tyler ducks too, hissing
as the ball gets close enough to singe the skin on his shoulder before swinging around one more time and smacking into the wall. The drywall immediately starts smoking, greenish smoke and tongues of flame licking out. “Shit!”

  “It happens,” Tyler assures me as we fetch water and start trying to put the fire out. It’s reluctant at first but eventually gives in and leaves a wet, darkening circle about a foot in diameter in the wall. “Interesting. Your powers are there, and already extraordinarily strong, but they certainly need tuning.”

  “So, I guess no more playing with Faelight?”

  Chapter 23

  The Guardians

  The streets of Old Haven are filthy, and for the first time since they arrived, Cole and Noah are glad that they’re not wearing their normal faerie clothes. “You know, I once visited a town that looked sort of like this,” Noah says as they round a corner and step around the bricks that are crumbling from the façade. “Detroit, about forty or fifty years ago.“

  They stop, listening as the sound of roaring engines approaches. Ducking into an alleyway, they watch as the joyriding humans go charging past, their trucks bristling with weapons. “Shit.”

  “I agree. Think they’re looking for a fight?” Noah says, smirking. “We could give them one.”

  “No. They’re not part of our mission,” Cole whispers as the trucks go roaring by again, taunting calls for shifters to ‘come out and play’ coming from the passengers. “We don’t have time to play.”

  “Do you feel any kinship with the Earth’s shifters?” Noah asks randomly as they make their way down the alleyway. “They are natural enemies of the vampires.”

  “I do feel some pity for them, trapped in only two forms and bound to the moon’s cycles. But at the same time, they are pack creatures who are thriving despite the odds, finding joy and love in their families. I do not think they would be impressed with whatever additional powers faeries may have over them but would simply celebrate a shared heritage and continue thriving in the one they've developed themselves over centuries." With a nod that his thoughts on the matter are complete, Cole continues, "Come. We have an important mission to complete."

  They follow the alley, but before they reach the end, a man blocks their path. “Well, now, what do we have here?” he asks, his rifle cradled in his arms. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, it’s past curfew for—”

  The human’s words are cut short as Noah’s staff comes flying through the night, smashing him in the chest and knocking him to the ground with a cracked sternum. The two Fae run up as the human gasps for air. “You . . . you . . .”

  “Shut up,” Noah growls, punching him in the face once before depositing him in a nearby dumpster. “If you’re lucky, you might wake up before the garbage truck comes around.”

  Deciding that the neighborhood is getting too dangerous, the two head closer toward the river, where the smell of old, dried blood starts to seep from the crumbling brick and cracked sidewalks.

  “And I thought our block was bad,” Noah whispers as they stalk down the streets. “I can feel our enemies’ eyes on us.”

  “Then we’re in the right place,” Cole says, pointing at a sign. Poenari. “Only a very cocky or stupid vampire would name their bar after Dracula’s castle.”

  “Or a very strong one,” Noah reminds him.

  “Then let’s be careful,” Cole says, adjusting his coat to hide his sword while still keeping it useful. “Your staff?”

  Noah nods, and with a twist of his wrists, the enchanted staff separates and collapses into two pieces. “Shall we?”

  The club is in the basement of the old building, and both guardians can feel the bass of the music through their feet even before they get through the door. There’s no bouncer. There’s no need. Vampires enforce strict loyalty up and down their ‘blood lines’ and nobody else would be stupid enough to start problems in a vampire club unless they were suicidal.

  Reaching the ‘dance floor,’ Cole and Noah look out over the swarm of teeming, half-naked bodies. Everything is red, black, and white, with blood red lighting pulsing in time to the music. Vampires and humans mix in writhing pairs, trios, and more, near-orgies taking place in the black leather booths that line two walls.

  Most of the humans look drugged, Noah says to Cole, using their Link to be heard over the music. What do you think?

  Cole shrugs. That might be. Let’s . . . mingle.

  The two head for the bar, keeping their eyes open. While the humans are oblivious, more than one vampire glances at them, confused by these two outsiders who are obviously to their senses Paranormal . . . but not of a kind they’ve seen before.

  The barman is a human, although by his pale complexion and lean, nearly gaunt appearance, Cole figures he’s either a thrall or not much longer for this world. “What’s your poison?”

  “Your specialty,” Noah says, letting Cole check their backs. “We’re looking for someone.”

  “Aren’t we all?” the bartender replies. “Anyone in particular, or just looking for a couple of bodies to get freaky with? The selection’s pretty wide open.”

  “We’re on business,” Noah says. “A vampire named Marcus.”

  The bartender’s hand shakes as he puts two glasses of deep red liquid in front of Noah, his already pallid expression going pinched and ghostly. “Don’t know no Marcus. You might need to look elsewhere.”

  The bartender walks away, and Noah picks up the drinks, sniffing them before handing one to Cole. “Mostly blood.”

  “You couldn’t find some pineapple juice?” Cole sighs. His favorite drink in the human world, it’s a rare indulgence for him. “Mixed with a little vodka or something?”

  “Sorry . . . guess this ‘sangria’ is the best they have,” Noah says, carefully dumping the drinks on the floor. The two continue with their questioning, talking with multiple people and asking about Marcus.

  The answer’s always the same. “Scram . . . or else I might think about having a second evening meal,” one vampire tells them as she turns away. “Fuckin’ freaks.”

  Leaving the bar, both are in a bad mood. “We should go in there and start bashing heads,” Noah grumbles. “That might get their attention.”

  Cole nods. Their weapons, while not wooden, were infused with the powers of light. That and their natural faerie magic made his swords even deadlier to vampires. “Perhaps, but . . . wait.”

  Stepping back into the corner, Cole gestures. Noah follows his point and sees a dark-haired man with a swarthy complexion along with another human. “Eve’s partner?”

  “I believe so,” Cole whispers. They’d only had a moment to see him that first night, but his memory is near-perfect. “Listen.”

  At the corner, the man pulls out a badge, showing it to a vampire who’s stepped out of the club. “Detective Joe Gonzalez. This is my partner, Detective Porter.”

  “Who’s the new guy, Gonzalez?” the vampire asks. “Thought your partner was a cunt.”

  “New partner. You haven’t been watching the news?” Gonzalez asks. “Here to see your boss.”

  “Lot of heat in the area, and you want to bring a new badge to see the boss?” the vamp remarks. “You sure about that? He’s not gonna be happy.”

  “Very sure. And my partner can get a drink downstairs while we talk. Now move your ass before I raise hell.”

  The other cop looks nervous but goes inside the club, and Gonzalez goes around the corner with the vamp. With a silent glance, Cole and Noah follow. “Odds that other cop leaves the club alive?”

  “Small,” Cole whispers back. “But we cannot help that.”

  Sticking to the shadows, they follow the vampire and Gonzalez for two blocks to an old riverside warehouse, where the two disappear inside. “Ideas?”

  Cole nods, pointing. “Side stairs. Door’s ajar.”

  The warehouse is dark inside and smells of meat and filth as the two creep behind a stack of plastic crates to try and listen. There’s only one light in the warehouse,
and the voices aren’t trying to muffle themselves.

  “You’re not Marcus. Illir, right?”

  The voice that replies is high-pitched, not whiny but almost . . . deferential. “Yes, Detective Gonzalez. While Master is always pleased to meet with you, he is understandably . . . cautious. He is not sure that your offer is legitimate, and tonight is a dangerous one, even for our kind. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  “You have a threat,” Gonzalez says. “His thrall squealed before Carter crushed his brain to a pulp.”

  Cole looks at Noah, both thinking the same thing. Dirty cop. She was set up.

  “He was a minor assistant,” Illir replies. “I assure you, the Master’s operation is quite safe.”

  “Perhaps. But if—” Gonzalez says, but Illir interrupts.

  “We have company.”

  The lights in the warehouse flare to life, and suddenly, Cole and Noah find themselves surrounded by half a dozen vampires. Their pale skin is pearlescent under the light, their bodies varying from lean to almost corpulent depending on how well-fed they’ve been. One of them, his broad shoulders rare amongst the vampiric race, chuckles. “Well, now. Master was correct. The Fae.”

  One attacks, his fingers extended into claws and fangs bared, but he doesn’t even get within touching distance before Cole’s sword swings, slicing his head in half and sending him crashing into the nearest crate.

  “Noah!!” Cole says as he brandishes his sword. Unfortunately, for all his centuries of training, Cole knows that certain problems are inherent to his favored weapon. In the confined space behind the crates, Cole’s sword is restricted and Noah’s staff is nearly useless. Both weapons require open areas, more attuned to the battlefield than the hallway. Luckily, after so many centuries of working together, Noah knows what they need even without being told and is already moving.

  “On it!” Noah says, turning and planting his massive hands on the stack of crates behind them. Summoning all the strength that his mighty body possesses along with all the reinforcement that his magic allows, he shoves, sending crates tumbling. A swarm of bodies falls out as the crates burst on the concrete floor.