Faerie Mage: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Vampire's Bane Book 1)

by Marian Maxwell

  “It’s ok,” Clarissa said. She put a hand on top of Suri’s. Her skin was pale and smooth. Suri’s was dirty and rough. Clarissa had seen the look on her face. Wanted to comfort Suri.

  Tears welled in Suri’s eyes. She wiped them away with the cuff of her leather jacket.

  This can’t happen.

  Clarissa would die in an all-out brawl with the goblins. Victim to a stray spell. Maybe one of Suri’s. The only chance was for her to make the first strike. Obliterate the goblins, or send them running.

  The goblins’ voices rose in volume. Right outside the front of Paulie’s bakery. They were coming in through the door.

  NOW.

  Suri surged to her feet. The goblins shouted in alarm. Their leader drew his oversized sword and gave a toothy smile. “Found you,” he rasped.

  Wrists together. Hands outstretched.

  The first goblin came in through the door.

  Palms facing the enemy. Activate voodoo charm.

  It raised a club that was stuck with railroad spikes.

  DIE.

  A bolt of red death magic tore through the air. It hit the first goblin square in the chest. Melted it into a gooey puddle. The goblin standing behind it didn’t run away. It had fought gifted before. Knew that powerful death magic comes at great cost. What it wasn’t counting on was the second part of the spell.

  The puddle of goo began to boil and bubble. The second goblin nervously stepped back. As Suri prepared another spell, the goo expanded like a balloon. Formed a blob, from which a tendril shot out and grabbed the ankle of the nearest goblin. Yanked it to the floor, twirling around the goblin’s entire body. Tightening.

  It wasn’t black magic, but pretty much as close as you can get. The kind of spell that gets you a sit down with the magi council, and nervous glances from your friends. Not technically illegal. Just disturbing.

  The goblins deserved worse. Suri growled, raised death high in one hand. Pulled back her arm—

  A loud creak from inside the shop. “Get inside! Hurry!”

  Paulie. Head poking up from a trapdoor that was hidden under the rug. He held it open with one arm, waving Suri and Clarissa toward him with the other.

  Suri grabbed Clarissa. Gave her a helpful push in his direction. Of course, she took her time getting there. Careful not to topple her cake.

  Goddamnit, Clarissa.

  It was too late for Suri’s spell. She had lost focus. It was gone. No time to chant another one, as two more goblin ran into the shop, screaming in frenzy.

  Suri unhooked Sorrow from her belt. Smashed the first goblin across the face with the blade still in its sheathe. The goblin spun, a complete 360. Staggered backwards, holding its broken jaw, and dropped to the floor like a drunken sailor.

  Clarissa gently put her cake on the floor. Took Paulie’s hand in her own. Lifted her skirt and took a step on the ladder.

  Slow. As. Molasses.

  Suri was about to scream at her to hurry the heck up, when it hit her. That cake was everything Clarissa had. Her shop was destroyed. Friends missing. She could die any minute. But she still had that cake. And it was a beautiful one. Flowers as lovely as a wedding bouquet. If she could keep that one cake safe, she might recover.

  Suri didn’t scream. She let Clarissa do her thing, while she handled the goblins.

  Sorrow came out, a flash of blue steel. Adrenaline pumped through Suri’s veins. She gripped the rough, brown leather wrapping the hilt with sweaty palms. Kept her back straight, proper posture. Face stone cold as the goblin leader, standing a solid 6’2, stomped in next to his minions. The last three of his hunting party.

  He grabbed the one with the broken jaw. Pulled him up by his shirt.

  The injured one glowered at her. Took up its hatchet again and shuffled to the right, jaw hanging at a funny angle.

  The other goblin minion shuffled to the left. The leader opened its mouth, so wide Suri could see the back of its throat, and let out a roar that shook the walls. It was a nice trick.

  Suri ignored him, parried the attack from the goblin on her left, spun and kicked the knee of the goblin on her right. Began muttering a spell while they decided on their next attack. Suri was playing the defensive game. Low risk. Buy time. But the danger did not end after Clarissa made it down the ladder. Suri needed to create space for herself to slip in after her.

  The leader pulled a dagger from his boot. Held the tip with two grubby, long-nailed fingers and threw it at Clarissa. Suri had seen it coming. Already positioned her sword to intercept it, sending the dagger spinning away with a clang. Then another goblin was attacking. That is, pretending to attack. He snarled, wrinkling his fat, oily green nose. Swiping at Suri with his club, but not moving his feet. Not actually trying to do damage. It was all a game of bait with these guys. Suri muttered another line of her spell.

  She ducked the leader’s swinging sword without even looking. Parried the hatchet with Sorrow, then stabbed the broken-jawed goblin straight through the chest.

  She ripped the blade out as fast as she could, spraying black goblin blood across the shop. Raised Sorrow in time to intercept the goblin leader’s overhand chop. Her knees shook, barely held. The leader leaned into his sword. Big gut, big bones and rusty armor all bearing down on Suri. Forcing her to stay rooted, muscles burning just to keep him from knocking her to the floor. The other goblin swung his club like a baseball bat, railroad spike angled to skewer Suri through the ribs.

  She shouted the last line of the spell. Green flames covered her body, one of the best defensive spells they teach at the Academy. They singed her black leather jacket and tickled her skin. Roasted anyone else standing near.

  The goblin leader jolted back, hands burned by the flames. Pressure gone, Suri spun, nearly avoiding the club.

  It smashed her in the gut. Knocked the breath right out of her. Railroad spike leaving a long gash in her side, but not penetrating the stomach wall.

  Suri hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. By instinct, rolled to the side. Gasped as the goblin leader’s sword splintered the wood right where she had been.

  “Come on!” Paulie shouted.

  Suri kept rolling, all the way to the trapdoor. A schoolyard move to get away from the bully. She was glad Orlando wasn’t there to see it.

  The green flames extinguished. Suri rolled through the trapdoor. Fell a couple of feet and landed in someone’s arms.

  Paulie put two, thick bars of wood across the inside of the trapdoor. The goblins were already smashing on it, angered that they had so narrowly missed their prey.

  Suri got to her feet. Coughed blood onto her shirt, on the dirt floor. Her vision blurred. She had used too many spells too quickly.

  “We need to move.” A steady voice. The person who caught Suri.

  “You’re right,” Paulie agreed. “Go ahead, Martin. I’ll take the rear.”

  Paulie slung Suri’s arm over his shoulder, held her upright. Suri blinked a couple of times to clear her vision. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “The Underground,” Paulie replied.

  Suri felt like she hadn’t eaten all day. Realized with a groan that she actually hadn’t. She raised her chin, kept herself from throwing up and looked ahead.

  A long line of humans walked down the tunnel. It would have been pitch black if not for the torches in their hands. She spied the top of Clarissa’s chef’s hat and sighed in relief.

  “Come on,” said Paulie, moving them forward. “We’ve got to reach the waygate.”

  “What? How?” The city was teeming with murderous fae. Not to mention the creatures prowling the night.

  “We found a way through the catacombs.”

  Suri had never heard of Lodum’s catacombs. But it was a plan, a clear direction. Hope.

  She fumbled inside her jacket. Got her hand on a wrinkled, white envelope and held it out. “Letter for you,” she said with a weak grin. “Amber says “hi.””

  5

  Relax, Mona told herself as she steppe
d into the circle of runes. Remember your spells, stay calm, and nothing bad will happen. You’ve got this. A familiar tingle ran up her spine. The Academy examination room faded away, and a canopy of leaves materialized in its place.

  The runes had teleported her to a hilltop nestled in a forest. Gargantuan trees lay before her in every direction, all the way to the horizon. If she dared, she could step off the edge of the hilltop and onto a sturdy branch two miles above the shrouded ground.

  Mona had been sent to Faerie.

  Nine ancient statues surrounded her in a circle, standing tall above the long grass. Only a small rune engraved at the base of each statue hinted at their function. But even without the runes, the black stains were enough to know the hilltop was a place best avoided. Some called it the Academy’s graveyard.

  Mona sidestepped, bobbed and weaved around the statues. She did a somersault, hopped to her feet, drew her longsword in a flash and resheathed it. She adjusted a strap on her leather armor, pulling it tighter against her skin. The voice of Master Kelendril echoed in her mind. Limber, you fool! I said ‘limber!’ The body needs to be as fast as the mind. Or do you want to be a scholar? I’ll send you off tomorrow, if that’s what you want…

  The runes on the statues began sizzling and spitting sparks. Mona placed herself near the edge of the hilltop and moved her hands in a pattern she had practiced hundreds of times. The wind, once whispering through the statues, went still. Flocks of birds flew from nearby trees as she spoke the ancient tongue of magic.

  The light dissipated from the runes, and a pack of wolf-sized demons shimmered into the circle of statues. Their beady eyes instantly snapped on her position. They launched toward her, snarling and cutting up the ground with their sharp claws.

  Black and blood, her mentor had gone too far this time.

  You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you, you old bastard.

  Mona tried to send the thought to Kelendril telepathically, the way she had been taught. But telepathy, despite being one of the simpler schools of magic, was not her affinity.

  The gifted news channel would have you believe that magic is easy. They love showcasing guests that can briefly turn their clothes transparent, levitate or freeze a cup of water—cantrips that any gifted can do after a few years of study. Real magic is a flowing, living force of nature. It will test you, ask for your soul in return for power. Push you until you are crying and bleeding and about to blackout, screaming for answers when there are none.

  In the modern world, it is much easier to play video games than it is to make pacts with devils and memorize ancient languages. It is easier to get the job in the office building than it is to suffer third-degree burns from sophomore spells. Despite what you tell yourself, you don’t really want all the trouble. That was Mona, once. But when your entire family is murdered by a necromancer for his blood ritual, you get an interest in magic—real magic—pretty damn fast.

  Mona finished her spell and thrust her palm against the ground. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a ripple spread across the hilltop.

  In one second the leading demon was in a headlong sprint. In the next, the tall grass wrapped around its ankles, tripping it and constricting it to the ground. Two of the trailing demons tumbled into each other and were also entombed by the grass. But the spell was only a temporary measure. Fae grass is iron-hard, but thin. Already the demons were cutting through their bonds.

  The last three demons leapt into the air, avoiding the grasping tendrils of grass. They hissed and spread out to attack from all sides.

  Mona drew her sword from where she kept it strapped to her back. She held it in a two-handed grip with her balance on her back foot. The blade blazed with the reflection of the sun.

  The demon to her left crept forward, hissing and snapping its jaws in an effort to distract. Mona twisted her torso to face it, tricking the demon on her right into thinking she had fallen for the bait.

  The ploy worked. The demon to the right leapt at Mona, powerful hind legs springing it through the air straight toward her face.

  She had been watching it from the corner of her eye, muscles tensed for a counter attack. As soon as the demon twitched in her direction, Mona was twisting back around, this time turning her hips and pivoting off her back foot. The entire weight of her body came down with the arc of her longsword.

  Mona’s lean, muscled arms strained for a moment when the edge of her sword met the thick hide of the demon. She kept her wrists straight and absorbed the impact of the demon’s leap.

  Her form was perfect, and the sharp edge of her blade held strong and sheared through the demon’s skull, then down through the length of its body. The Academy’s sword master would have grunted in approval.

  To Mona’s regret, the other demons were not deterred. The one in front leapt at her teeth first. The one on her left dove for her leg.

  She cast another spell and combusted into flame.

  Green witch fire licked her skin. It was only a tingle to her senses, but a flesh-searing inferno to anyone standing too close.

  One of the demons dodged mid-leap, escaping with only a blackened mark on its forehead. The other demon was not so lucky. Its teeth had already dug into her boot when the spell was cast. It screeched as the fire melted its face into a gooey paste, but it did not loosen its hold on Mona’s ankle.

  A sharp pop sounded loud enough to hear over the demon’s screeching. Mona pivoted to face the other demon—realized the pop had come from her ankle and fell to the ground in a twisted heap.

  Agony laced up her leg. She grit her teeth as black spots distorted her vision.

  It was by a combination of luck and instinct that she anticipated the demon’s next move and raised her longsword to protect her face. Not a second later it landed on her chest. Its teeth clamped onto her blade and bore down. It used the thick muscles in its neck and violently shook its head. A lesser blade would have shattered. As it was, Mona held on for her life.

  It bought time for her head to clear, and to grab the dagger she kept strapped on the underside of her left forearm. She pulled it clear of its sheathe just as the demon yanked away her sword and sent it spinning off into the grass.

  What is taking you so long? Kelendril’s trademark theatrical sigh followed his telepathic message.

  Bastard was probably eating sweetmeats in his luxurious study, lingering by the window like he always does to watch the first-year girls in the courtyard. Who knew that a master mage would be such a lech for humans.

  Mona stabbed the demon in the ribs as it snapped for her face. The force of her blow pushed it aside enough that it bit into her left pauldron instead of her neck.

  I thought you wanted to avenge your family. Is this hard for you?

  The demon began violently shaking its head again, trying to ragdoll Mona unconscious. The talons on its hind legs sliced at the leather covering her stomach, seeking to disembowel.

  Little girl wants to be a demon hunter and can’t even handle a pack of slegs. Sad.

  Red tinged the edge of Mona’s sight. She gurgled as every muscle in her body strained to keep her alive, to keep stabbing. She thought of Newt, her dorky younger brother. Her father, who had taught her how to cast her first spell. Her mother, who had shown her that a lady carries herself with dignity and grace.

  Mona had long ago realized that she is not a lady.

  When the demon stopped moving she slid her dagger out from between its ribs and staggered to her feet. Her torso was soaked with its blood and drool.

  Mother, if you could see me now…

  She limped back a step and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

  Two of the three remaining demons had freed themselves from the entrapment spell. Foot long blades of grass lay shredded around the hilltop. The demons leaked blood from a hundred tiny cuts that the fae grass had inflicted, but it seemed to have only made them enraged.

  They charged across the blood soaked hilltop, maws open to drive their needle-sharp
fangs into Mona’s flesh.

  She moved to thrust at one of the demons, stumbled and had to catch herself from falling. She had asked too much of the magic, and was now paying the price.

  Her vision swam. She coughed blood. The protective barrier of green flames vanished. Mona did a somersault and rolled under one of the leaping demons. She dodged a slash from another demon’s claws. She was basically running on instinct. The muscle memory driven into her body from training was finally paying off.

  Mona gave one demon a brutal knock with her armored forearm, sending it sprawling to the ground. She bared her teeth and tackled it while it was down. Dagger slid through its thick hide, and then she was up again, spinning to the side, but not before the remaining demon hit a glancing blow against her ribs.

  Damn demon!

  It landed in a crouch a few feet in front of her, ready to spring once Mona made a move. She flipped her dagger in the air and caught the blade end of it. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it flying. It buried itself halfway to the hilt in the demon’s skull. It finally slumped over and died. The demon that was still entombed by the fae grass was no longer moving.

  Mona had survived another year at America’s premier Magic Academy.

  She raised her chin and looked to the amber colored clouds, almost missing the pair of eyes watching her from the forest. Green eyes, belonging to a fae male whose face was half hidden in shadow. He rested easily on a giant branch, one muscled leg casually dangling over the side. A cold sweat sent a shiver through Mona’s body. This was not part of the test. Fae are extremely dangerous and unpredictable. They have, without exception, bodies Michelangelo would have died to see, and the temperaments of cats.

  The fae stood, smiled and started walking along the branch toward the hilltop.

  Kelendril, get me out of here. Kelendril!

  How could she be so bad at this stupid magic? The fae was halfway to the hilltop. Mona had nowhere to run. She had to concentrate and get through to her mentor. The fae’s tanned abs, curly auburn hair and forest horns were not helping.