by Gina LaManna
His sisters will be offered an unlikely hand,
It is she who delivers the final demand.
My eyes flashed open and I knew, without a doubt, that I was that helping hand. A tingle of magic skittered across my skin. We had come to the end of the prophecy.
“I demand you give up control of the Frost Kingdom,” I said from my place on the ground. “Turn yourself in to MAGIC, Inc., and I will make sure they keep you alive. Allow your sisters to rule until another prince can take over.”
Dimitrius stilled, his hands on either side of the doorway. “I don’t think so,” he said on a breath, turning to face me with a dark glimmer in his eye. “The kingdom is mine, and the MAGIC territories will be also, just as soon as the time is right.”
As he turned, however, there was a glimmer in the air behind him, the sort of glimmer that appears when sunlight hits an oil spill, a shimmering rainbow in the air that is neither real nor imagined.
“The more you talk, the less I like what you have to say.” The king continued speaking as if immune to the magic suspended in the air behind him. As he stepped toward me, the outline of two figures solidified, but he was oblivious to them. He raised his hand, each fingertip dancing with a diamond-like light sure to freeze my heartbeat on impact. “I think our time together has come to an end—”
He stopped talking as a gust of cold wind sailed through the treehouse, coating everything in its path with a dusting of snow. One second later, another flash of wind swept through the air, this one so hot it melted the snow on impact. He whirled around, facing two now-solid individuals.
The princesses stood behind the king, both of them dressed in robes—Fiona’s colored white as bone, her sister’s the shade of blood—each with an insignia on their chest. I recognized it as the symbol of the Frost Clan.
“Dimitrius Frost, put your hands down,” Fiona said. Both she and her sister had donned their necklaces, the gemstones now glowing as the magic sizzled, crackled in the air. “Put your hands down now.”
“Fiona, Margot, how…?” He trailed off, turning to face me. “You set the prophecy in motion! That demand of yours was magic.”
“No, you set it in motion,” Fiona said, taking a single step forward. “When you killed our father. Now, if you don’t put your hands down and turn yourself in to MAGIC, we will end things now.”
Time stopped. Each particle in the air seemed heavy, too sluggish for even a hint of movement. The king’s eyes were the only thing alive, burning in his hatred for me.
Then just as quickly, everything launched into motion. The king’s hand swept toward me, those glittering fingertips swishing through the tips of my hair just before he was knocked off balance by a blinding display of white and red light joined in one.
The ball of light sizzled, cracked, and then exploded, sending the treehouse swirling into an abyss of white, then black, then millions of tiny stars in the back of my skull. There was a boom that shook the very core of the treehouse, rendering the rest of our senses useless.
It remained dark for some time, a long time, with a single, whimpering cry to break the silence. I fought against the bursting stars in my skull, but I was in a daze.
By the time my vision returned and I was able to sit up, someone—most likely one of the sisters—had relinquished me from the vines around my wrists. Meanwhile, Dimitrius lay unconscious on the wooden floor.
“You did it!” I leapt to my feet, wobbled, then steadied myself. Where I’d expected to address the princesses, I came face to face with my father. I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs from the blast. “Dad?”
He looked down at his fingers, almost surprised to see the last remnants of lightning leaping there. “I’ve still got it,” he said, a bit in awe. “Magic.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “How’d you get back?”
My dad’s smile grew bigger. “Well, after I tucked your mother and Beck into a tree a few blocks away, I took Blimpy back and found Margot on the roof.”
“But how did she know to come here, that we needed her help?”
Frank’s gaze turned sheepish. “As soon as I heard word on the police scanner that Dimitrius was back in town, I figured Margot would need to know. While you were busy sneaking in as a maid, I had projects of my own. I sent word to her while you were at the mansion. A long time ago, we were friends. We keep in touch now and again, so I knew where to find her, and I suspected she’d have an opinion on her brother breaking into MAGIC territories. I never got the chance to tell you because, well, she hadn’t confirmed whether she’d be able to help or not, and I didn’t want to count on her assistance. She showed up in the nick of time.”
“You knew it would take both of the sisters to defeat their brother.”
He nodded. “I just didn’t expect I’d get my shot at him.” Frank flexed his fingers, admired them. “It’s been too long since I’ve gotten in on the action.”
“What did happen? It felt like an explosion, and then I don’t remember much.”
“That was the princesses’ power unlocking the spell that keeps one sibling from harming another.” Then, more proudly, he said, “The Stealthy Stunner, that was my spell.”
A noise sounded behind me, and I whirled around to find Margot kneeling, bent over her sister, who was face down on the ground. The lines of the prophecy ran through me, the reminder that in order to stop Dimitrius from taking over MAGIC territories, the Ice Princess would pay the ultimate price.
“No,” she cried as I closed the distance between us. “Fiona!”
I crouched next to the pair and rested my fingers on her neck. I felt the subtle pulse beneath the tips of my fingers. “She’s still alive.”
A gasp, the smallest of gasps, gave me hope that something was there. I glanced behind me—the king was still breathing, too.
“He didn’t die,” I said, locking gazes with Margot. “That means Fiona might not have to, either. The prophecy isn’t yet fulfilled! If he’s alive, there’s hope for her. Quick, use your magic to do what you can, and I’ll bind your brother.”
I found some old Guardian-issue handcuffs attached to the dress-up stand and clasped them around the king’s wrists. Then I fumbled around for my cell phone which, miraculously, was still in my pocket. “Mr. Davis,” I gasped when my boss answered. “Come quickly. We have him.”
After giving him the address to my parents’ house, I clicked off the phone and joined Margot. “It’s not working,” she said. “She’s too weak.”
I touched my hand to her forehead. “She’s cold. Can you warm her?”
“She shouldn’t be cold—she’s one of the Frost Clan.”
“She needs your warmth, now,” I said. “Hurry!”
Margot did as I instructed, resting her hands on either of her sister’s shoulders. It took too long—minutes, maybe—before it began to work. Then, slowly, a bit of color crept into Fiona’s face. When five minutes had passed, her eyes blinked open, her cheeks pink and rosy.
“Margot,” she whispered. “What happened?”
Margot rested a hand on her forehead. “Your friend made the final demand, and the prophecy was invoked,” she said. “We’ve done it. You’re free, Dimitrius is—”
“Did we kill him?”
“No,” Margot said. “But his reign is over.”
Fiona’s eyes focused on mine then, and she smiled. “You are the helping hand,” she whispered. “I should have known.”
She murmured a thank you then drifted into a quiet, exhausted sleep.
“Agents from MAGIC will be here soon,” I announced to Margot—and Dimitrius, if he could hear me. “They’ll take him into custody and we’ll get Fiona somewhere more comfortable.”
“She’ll be okay,” Margot said with a smile. “I can feel it.”
A knock sounded on the ladder outside, dragging me to my feet. Poking my head over the edge, I saw none other than my boss, Declan Davis.
“Good work, Ains,” he said, pulling his tall, inti
midating figure into the tree fort. He extended a hand, his dark eyes flashing as he shook mine. “MAGIC thanks you—at least, they will when they hear about this.”
“Really, it wasn’t all me. I had help, lots of it. In fact, it was my—”
“Frank.” Declan Davis interrupted me as his gaze found my father. My boss gave a smile brimming with chagrin before returning his eyes to me. He scanned my face, gave a wry shake of his head, and laughed. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I suppose.”
“Thanks, boss,” I said, reaching over to squeeze my dad’s shoulder. “That’s a great compliment.”
“Declan.” Frank reached across me to shake my boss’s hand. “Great to see you. It’s been too long.”
“Indeed it has. I owe you a huge thank you, Frank. You and your daughter have saved MAGIC a lot of paperwork, and…well, a whole lot worse, but I don’t have to tell you that.”
My father gave a nod, attempting to look somber, but failed at hiding the light of excitement in his eyes. “Always a pleasure to serve when I’m able.”
Declan nodded, then spoke over his shoulder to a crew of men in black suits climbing the ladder behind him. Agents. “Bring him in for questioning, boys. Let’s get him locked up tight enough that he’ll never escape.”
“What about the Iron Range?” I asked.
His gaze cut to the two sisters. “We’ll leave it to their people to vote, but I imagine they’ll elect the Frost Family back into power, and we’ll happily support Fiona and Margot in taking the throne.”
While we continued speaking, I watched the Agents as they scanned the scene quickly, staying professional as they wrapped the king in sturdier bindings. With any luck, he wouldn’t return to MAGIC territories—ever—not outside of prison, at least.
“So…” I said, pulling Mr. Davis off to the side as the Agents hauled Dimitrius away. “About this whole mission thing…do you think I can get another new broomstick for a job well done?”
“Where is yours now?”
“If I told you it was cloaked in invisibility next to a tree, would you believe me?”
His glare was filled with annoyance. “I just approved one for you.”
“Yeah, well, someone dented mine.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Please?” I asked.
“Don’t push it.” He smiled and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you. Between you and me, we couldn’t have done this without you. I still don’t know how you got inside that castle.”
“It’s probably better if you don’t ask,” I said. “We’ll consider it…off the record.”
Chapter 32
“So, you are telling me none of these people are human?” Beck scanned the heads of the crowd below us, his gaze slightly mystified despite the fact that he’d spent most of the past week getting debriefed on the existence of our magical world. “Not a single one? That is nuts.”
I followed his gaze, scanning the crowd at Ace’s bar. Wincing, I shook my head. “Not one. See that surly little guy over there? Definitely a gnome. And the beast in the corner—yeah, the one drinking the boot of beer—he has giant in his blood. I think the pretty girl holding the martini might be Fae, but it’s hard to say for certain. Maybe she just has dainty features.”
“How do you all stay hidden? In all my years on the force, I never knew. Never even suspected.”
I shrugged. “Magic?”
He laughed, a wry note to his voice. “Right.”
“We’re very careful about our privacy, which is why we had to put you through Orientation. What did you think?”
“I’m not sure I am capable of thinking anything right now.”
“I understand,” I said, looking down at the menu before us, even though I had it completely memorized. “That’s why they give you a one-week grace period to consider your options. You should take the full week.”
“Ainsley, I don’t need a week.” He reached across the table and took my hands. “I want—”
“Shhh,” I hushed him. “It’s too much to process right now. Take your time. I’ll still be here in a week, you know that.”
To my surprise, Beck didn’t argue. I should have felt happy about it; instead, I pretended to read the menu a few more times.
Orientation was a process MAGIC, Inc. had developed years ago, a full seven-day immersion into the rules, regulations, and customs of our magical culture. It’d been started for humans who’d purposefully sought out or accidentally discovered the existence of our people.
More specifically, it was a course for those humans considering living among our people forever. When the magical community had gone into hiding centuries ago, we’d run into one very large issue: sometimes, witches and wizards fell in love with humans.
As is always the case with love, it was never a purposeful choice—it just happened. It was from this dilemma that Orientation had been born, and now if a magical being wanted to bring a human into the magical community, the pair could apply for the course.
Beck’s circumstances were different, however. He’d experienced so much in the way of magical culture that a memory wipe would have provided some serious continuity issues in his life. So, they’d required him to attend and, afterward, should he choose to stay in the human world, they’d undergo a very careful memory wipe of all things magic.
He had a week, one week to decide if he wanted to stay in our world or return to a human existence. If, after one week, the human still desired to be a part of the magical community, they would be required to take a blood oath of secrecy. Once completed, they’d inherit a basic set of magical qualities: the ability to age slower (at the same pace as witches and wizards), the ability to see and enter previously hidden magic-only locations such as Ace’s bar, and the ability to manipulate store-bought spells on a small level. They’d also be subjected to all of our laws, rules, and regulations.
If the human decided to opt out and return to their previous life, their memory would be doctored—without harm or pain—and all memories of magic would be removed. They’d be left with memories of a sudden migraine that had blocked out long periods of unaccounted for time—time that’d been spent in the company of witches and wizards, like me.
Either way, the choice was irreversible.
Our somewhat somber silence was interrupted by a greenish-faced server who asked for our drinks. I ordered a Hex on the Beach, he chose a Witchy Sour—two magical names for two very human beverages. The waitress smiled, nodded, and returned to the bar.
“What was she?” Beck asked when the server had left.
“That’s Mandy, she’s an ogre.”
“Ogre.” He turned the phrase over in his mouth as if it didn’t quite belong, as if he’d been expecting soda in his glass and instead took a gulp of milk. He seemed a bit unsettled.
“This place is the best spot for the paranormal crew to grab drinks and hang out,” I explained, gesturing to Ace’s bar. “I used to come here quite often.”
It’d been a week since I’d last seen Ace, and we hadn’t talked since he’d broken into my house. Between Orientation with Beck and the mountain of paperwork that came with the completion of a mission, I hadn’t had a moment of free time, not to mention my mother’s hovering—seeing the work of a Guardian firsthand had taken its toll on her, and she seemed more determined than ever to create the perfect, un-floppable Neapolitan cake.
Beck and I had finally carved out some time to be together, and had decided to take advantage of his Orientation week. During his trial period, the detective was allowed into all the witchy haunts—including Ace’s bar—to decide if he truly liked the lifestyle.
“It’s nice,” he said. “I knew there was something up here.”
“Oh,” I said, with a wink. “One more thing. George is real—he’s a gargoyle.”
“I knew it!” A smile curved Beck’s lips upward. “I know this sounds nuts, but I feel less crazy knowing gargoyles are real.”
I laughed, the tens
ion of his weighty decision easing as I shot my straw wrapper across the table at him. “There’s one more thing,” I said. “The guy who owns this bar is—”
“Me.” The deep voice appeared behind me, and I turned to find Ace towering over our table, all dark hair and dark eyes, watching the both of us. The markings on his arms stretched as he leaned forward and gave my shoulder a familiar squeeze. “Good to see you, Ainsley. Who’s your friend? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
I swallowed, watching Beck for a reaction. At first, his eyes misted with jealousy as he watched the place where Ace touched my arm. Then Beck moved his gaze upward, and when he found Ace’s face, the jealousy evaporated into shock.
“This is the guy I warned you about.” Beck rose to his feet, speaking in low, dangerous tones. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Get your hands off her, buddy.”
Ace lifted his hand slightly from my shoulder and nonchalantly brought it back down, muttering a Sitting Spell. It worked well—too well—throwing Beck violently back into his chair.
The thud quieted the bar, all attention turning toward us.
“Nothing to see here,” Ace spoke in a low murmur. The rest of the patrons went uneasily back to their drinks while the stare-down between the two men continued.
“Stop it!”I told Ace. Standing, I rested a hand on the detective’s outstretched arm. “I can explain.”
Beck’s eyes flamed in fury, unable to retaliate against Ace’s magic. Meanwhile, the bar owner crossed his arms over his chest, a cocky smirk twisting his lips up.
“Both of you, listen,” I said. “Ace, the detective here is a human, we both know that, and you know why he was after you—your brother was messing with tourists. That’s illegal.”
Mild annoyance flashed across Ace’s face, but he merely shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Beck, this—Ace—is not the guy you’re looking for,” I said. Then I launched into the longer explanation, conveying everything Ace had told me the night in my apartment. “He was helping his brother out.”
