Scattered Magic (The Sidhe (Urban Fantasy Series) Book 1)

by S A Archer

  London settled for the red velvet wing-back across from Rico. With effort she tore her attention from the smooth, muscular chest revealed by his open shirt. His face was just as potent, with eyes as hypnotic as a cobra’s. She crossed her legs, a protective gesture. “Selena may have introduced us, but she does not select my clients.”

  Rico pulled a business card from the pocket of his slacks and read it out loud. “London Eyer, Special Investigations and Security.” He held the card between his first two fingers as he grazed his thumb over the raised ink. “This is your business. Money is not enough for you?”

  Was it wrong that seeing him fondle her business card made her blush? Or that it turned her on knowing he had been carrying something of hers in his trousers? Yeah, most definitely wrong. Something more insidious than just the magnetism of a pretty face was affecting her.

  “Money is a start, but I don’t just do anything for money.” The two bodyguards wandered closer to her, but stopped when she snarled. “Wanna stay on your own side of the room, boys? I’d hate to have to kick your asses in front of your employer.” Bravado on her part, acting like she was all badass, but it worked. When they retreated a few steps London focused back on Rico. “What’s the job?”

  He leaned forward so his elbows rested on his thighs. One hand still cupped the handkerchief against his throat. He turned the card over in his fingers, as if something might be written on the back, then tossed it down onto the coffee table between them. “Selena said you have contacts among many of the parahuman and nonhuman groups. Which ones?”

  He’d ignored her question and kept on asking his own, she noticed. Probably a control freak. London let it go for now, but in the end if she didn’t like the job, she’d walk. Period. “Vampires, obviously. Weres. Demons. Wizards.”

  “Wizards,” he repeated, calmly. As if he’d been waiting for her to reveal that one. “How good is your contact?”

  “Good enough.”

  “You worked for them? These wizards you know?” He removed the handkerchief and tossed it down next to the card. His wounds had healed. She could not see any marks marring the perfection of his skin.

  “That is confidential information.” She gave him the shadow of a smile. “Just like your case would be. Certainly you can appreciate that.”

  Rico rose, graceful and swift. “If you work for me, you work for me. No one else.”

  London bolted to her feet almost as soon as he started moving. “I don’t work for you.”

  The bodyguards flicked out of sight. Teleporters.

  Crap.

  Chapter Six

  At Kaitlin’s insistence, they detoured to a shop in the fey town that thrived just beyond the castle walls. Lugh gallantly refrained from any comment about the importance of clothes shopping when she had, mere moments earlier, expressed the significance of her quest. Kaitlin found for Lugh clothing very similar to what she herself wore. In short order Lugh was clad in a black cotton undershirt and a hooded sweat shirt with a zipper up the front. The denim jeans hung a tad looser from his narrow hips than he was comfortable with, but Kaitlin insisted that this was the proper manner for contemporary fashions. The running shoes were actual imports from the surface and not created in the Mounds to mimic human clothing, as was the rest of what he wore.

  Once he was properly attired, Kaitlin rose up on her toes to pull the hood over his head and cover his elven ears. He inquired, “Would not Glamour be sufficient?”

  “You can’t always be certain about Glamour,” she avoided eye contact after that statement. It didn’t bode well that she’d have that insight.

  In the next moment she teleported them away from the Mounds to the surface world above. The early morning glow of first light broke through the clouds in the east, and Lugh paused to experience the moment. The sun. His sun. Standing before the sunrise now, he inhaled the air deeply, and almost immediately suppressed a cough. Even in this field where she’d brought them he caught the scent of industry and autos. The illusion of the sun in the Mounds was by his magic, and though he cherished the rare times he came to commune with the true sun, the very aspect of his personal magic, the prevalence of toxins marred the perfection. One of the many reasons the fey of the Mounds were content staying home.

  Kaitlin tugged at his elbow, turning him around to face the small gathering of vehicles situated in lines on a yard of crushed stones. Ah, the source of the stench. Lugh maneuvered about the autos, drawn by Kaitlin, until they crossed to the street side of the yard. It struck him as odd to have a large and random collection of autos in the midst of nothing but fields. The people milling about all appeared human. As various groups finished fussing with their gear, they hiked along a paved walkway toward a structure of some kind.

  Not a structure, actually…

  Lugh’s body stilled utterly, until even his magic seemed to pause for a beat.

  With too many people close enough to eavesdrop; Lugh curled an arm around Kaitlin. He drew her against him and then hugged her in an iron embrace from which she could not easily squirm. His gaze never ceased to scan about them for the slightest hint of danger. With his lips against her ear he hissed, “Stonehenge? You brought us to Stonehenge? Are you determined to perish in the most spectacular fashion conceivable? Or are you just completely oblivious to the dangers of the wizard kind?”

  “They don’t watch it like they used to. And besides, we’re in disguise.” She twisted to free herself but he didn’t allow it. “It’s not like it’s Samhain or even Lughnasadh.” She mentioned the High Holiday named after, and in celebration of, Lugh himself. “These are just tourists. Just regular people.”

  “We’re leaving now,” he growled.

  “This might be the last chance, Lugh. If Manannan gets his way, the courts will unify today.” She leaned back in his embrace, eyes pleading. “This is the last chance to find Aoife, and maybe stop this. Please? We’ll be here for no more than an hour. I swear it.”

  “If I spot one wizard, just one…”

  “You’ll drag my arse kicking and screaming back to the Mounds, I know, I know.” This time he permitted her to wriggle away and straighten her clothing as she regained her dignity.

  By the standing stones in the distance tents were being raised and music began to filter across the field. “Is there to be a celebration?”

  A woman close by heard his question and cheerfully announced, “Riley is here!” The energy in the group around her spiked as they all started speaking at once, praising the wide and varied merits of this ‘Riley’ person. Someone spouted the word ‘druid’ and Lugh’s eyes locked with Kaitlin.

  A few of the lads expounded upon the ‘cool magic’ that the druid could perform. How he commanded real power. How he was showing his followers the ‘old paths.’

  All the while Lugh’s expression remained faultless, nothing but pleasant to those that did not know him. No one but Kaitlin would see the faintest notion of what he was thinking, and under the pressure of his even stare the younger Sidhe finally broke. “It’s not what you think,” she whispered to him, then cast a smile over her shoulder at the humans, so they would not suspect the seriousness of this conversation. “Just trust me.”

  “As you said before,” his voice soft and for her sharp ears only, “It is not about trusting you, but in whom you trust.”

  “Just…” She shifted from one foot to the other, and then back again. “Just hang back. Ok? Just trust me,” she repeated, and then finally begged, “Please? You promised to behave.”

  She was taking his promise in the broadest possible interpretation. Or perhaps, in Seelie fashion, she was attempting to persuade him into believing he’d made such a promise, but he knew the words he’d spoken. ‘Behaving’ wasn’t among them. “I always keep my promises.”

  Much against his desires, he allowed her to
venture ahead of him. Lugh trailed her, giving enough distance as to not clearly be associated with her at a casual glance, certainly not among the throng of people gathering in a wide circle around the stones and the stage with the tent roof raised above it. Lugh was tall, even for the Sidhe, which made keeping an eye on Kaitlin easier as she wandered not toward the stage but toward a spot closer to the stones.

  Lugh watched for subtle clues, to determine if any of the assembled were of fey linage. For a span between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five, fine-boned and fair-faced humans could nearly be mistaken for one of the races of lesser fey. It was how the fey were able to move so easily among the humans, because of this resemblance. The Sidhe usually had to dull their appearance to pass for an attractive human, otherwise their beauty garnered an excess of attention. Had Kaitlin not advised against the Glamour, Lugh would have used it now.

  Spotting a wizard among other humans was more difficult. Some wore clothing with embroidered magical symbols, or oddly loose suits that harkened back to the robes of their forebears. But many selected clothing to blend into the crowd.

  So far all appeared innocent enough, save the choice of locations in wizard country. Kaitlin should have restricted her voyages to the surface to Ireland. Or even America. Anywhere but England.

  As the noon sun peaked overhead, the crowd began chanting for Riley, and soon was rewarded with the presence of a man upon the stage who greeted them with upraised hands and the bright smile of one who adored attention. He wore a tunic and loose breeches fashioned from homespun wool and belted with a bright red sash. To Lugh’s memories he resembled a farmer in freshly made clothes more than the druids he’d known. At least there were no overt wizard markings on the clothing. Lugh only partially noted what Riley proclaimed to his followers about the magical energies of the earth and of sacred places such as Stonehenge where the ley lines of power were said to cross. Most of what Riley spoke was rhetoric and what truth he might have brushed upon was uttered without understanding. At last, he was going to demonstrate his command of the magic of Stonehenge by making the stones ‘sing.’

  With grave disappointment, Lugh watched Kaitlin. From the stage Riley started babbling nonsense in Gaelic, his hand rising slowly over his head. And seemingly true to his word, music began to emanate from the stones. It was, of course, both intensely beautiful and haunting. The music of the fey, most especially the Sidhe, carried a melody that moved the soul and a harmony that transcended the ages. They had inspired the traditional music of the Celts, who mimicked but could never capture the purity nor the essence of the magic.

  And magic this was, for just as the sun was Lugh’s aspect of magic, music was Kaitlin’s. To witness her, a Sidhe princess, lowering herself to the status of accessory to a charlatan’s deception disheartened him. That Kaitlin would even allow him to witness this shame, knowing what he would say, baffled Lugh. Nothing he’d seen so far had even slightly approached the issues she’d claimed concerned her, and spurred her to risk life and magic to venture to this place.

  Chapter Seven

  Throwing himself bodily at the trapdoor, Jhaer burst into the room above. He dove and rolled, narrowly avoiding the blast wave of flame that chased him. No point splitting his focus on his Glamour now. The smoke filling the room swirled around him as he moved, giving away his position.

  Behind Jhaer the wooden table and chairs were already kindling. Across from him, Aoife crouched behind the huge bed. A shackle hung from one wrist. A chain draped from it and attached to a ring hammered into the stone wall. A thick area rug blanketed most of the floor on that side, and it smoldered with smoky flame.

  Between Jhaer and Aoife, a Sidhe fire wielder flung out a graceful arm. Fire spread across the room in lines of flame that spread in a spider-web pattern. The Sidhe was a Seelie Jhaer didn’t know, with a wicked laugh and a lethal gleam in his eyes. “Burn, baby!” He screamed, “Charbroiled Unseelie!”

  The trapdoor angled up, and a Redcap poked his foul face through the opening. Too many oversized and blood-stained teeth gaped in his maul. Jhaer vaulted over the table, using the as-yet unburnt corner to propel himself. He stomped on the trapdoor with all his weight, slamming it shut on the Redcap. As he did so, he drove his magic downward into the stairwell. All of the mortar ran like fresh mud, and the stones collapsed. The steps literally melted beneath the Redcaps, their bodies smashed to the floor with a satisfying crash.

  Jhaer moved once more, dodging the series of fireballs whipped at him. The wall holding the chain in place yielded to his magic and dropped the ring.

  Aoife, clever enough to flee the flames weaving along the floor, rushed out onto the balcony. She looked out and down, then back. Trapped. The silver of her shackle chained her magic.

  “Oh, the Unseelie knows how to dance!” the fire wielder laughed, sounding a touch more than crazy. His sweaty auburn hair stuck to his face in wild spikes. “Dodge this!” A wall of flame swept toward Jhaer with a broiling heat.

  Jhaer didn’t dodge the flame.

  He teleported past it.

  And reappeared on the balcony beside Aoife. He hooked her waist with his arm and flung her with him off the edge. As they freefell, Jhaer brought the tower down with the roar of a landslide, collapsing it in on itself. Every stone dislodged from the others and pummeled downward with deadly force, crushing anyone still inside the tower.

  Before they hit the ground, the soil beneath them roiled and softened. It caught Jhaer and Aoife and then rebounded more than a foot below the surface before bouncing them back up, unharmed. Aoife tumbled away from him, struggling with her shackle, shaken and unsteady as she fought to her feet.

  “Let me help you with that,” Jhaer cupped her wrist, turning the iron cuff over to see the lock on it and then looking up into her brilliant blue eyes. A beat passed. His eyes narrowed at her. Hers widened with fear.

  The blow came from behind, knocking Jhaer down with an explosion of stars that blurred his vision. He rolled away, catching a glimpse of the fire Sidhe as he brandished the branch for another blow. Jhaer dodge the branch, diving out of reach.

  “You aren’t the only one who can teleport, you know.” Blood covered the side of his face, so apparently the teleporting hadn’t spared him the full impact of the tower’s collapse. The knock upside the head must have rattled the Seelie’s brains or he’d have come after Jhaer with magic instead. As Jhaer scrambled to his feet, the ground below the fire Sidhe liquefied into the consistency of quicksand. The struggle didn’t last long. The concussion interfering with his fire must have blocked the teleporting, for Jhaer didn’t feel the body vanish from the grip of the earth that consumed it. The firebrand just stopped struggling.

  Aoife was already gone, her discarded chain a twisted coil on the ground like a dead snake. She could run, but each footfall against the earth gave her away. Hands formed out of the soil and reached up for her. She slipped out of the first few, but soon one latched around an ankle. Then another snagged her other foot. The ground twisted tightly over her lower legs until it snared her from the knee down.

  She struggled uselessly, clawing and digging at the ground, as Jhaer approached her. “Iron shackles. Not silver.”

  The dignity of Aoife’s usual expression vanished, replaced with spite. It was unbecoming on her. And so revealing.

  “Where is the prophetess, Changeling?” He wrenched her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “What have you done with Aoife?”

  “Nothing!” she snarled, and then laughed at him. “In Annwn, for all I care. This was never about her.” The image of Aoife faded right before his eyes, as the Changeling transformed into the Unseelie queen. “It was about getting the head of the Elite out of the way.”

  Jhaer punched her dead in the face, certain he heard her jaw crack. He teleported back to the Mounds before he even finished the follow-through on t
he swing.

  Chapter Eight

  After the demonstration, and an indeterminable amount of time of waiting for Riley to fawn over the attentions of his followers, at last the man turned toward Kaitlin. From across the crowd, Lugh had watched her waiting for the summoning. She joined Riley and the pair of them strolled toward the center of the circle of stones. Lugh made his way silently around the other side of the circle. The stones gave him ample cover to move within earshot of their conversation.

  “Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?” Riley asked.

  “I helped you as you asked,” Kaitlin replied. “You said you knew where she was being kept. It’s vitally important that you tell me now. Things are… things are going to get bad, if I don’t bring Aoife home.”

  Riley slipped a hand around her shoulder. “You’ve been amazing. Your talent is unparalleled, but we can’t free her with your music, Baby. I can tap into the ley lines and bring forth a little power, but not like you can. Not like the Sidhe. Not unless you bless me.”

  Lugh forced himself not to growl at the mention of it. He knew what the ‘druid’ was asking for, even if the man didn’t know the consequences of his request. Or did he? Had he been ‘blessed’ before?

  “Riley, you said you’d lead me to Aoife if I came here and I helped you. If I don’t bring her home now, there may not be a home to go back to.” Kaitlin pulled a folded map from her pocket and spread it open on one of the fallen stones. “Look, you said it was close to Stonehenge. A place where the ley lines would disguise her magic. Now, I read your books and I don’t see any place other than Stonehenge that meets the criteria you mentioned.”