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

by S A Archer

  The fey managed to both nod and shake his head in a haphazard way, as if torn between agreeing and disagreeing and not at all sure what the right answer might be. If indeed any answer might save his life.

  “Do you even know in whose territory you’re trespassing?”

  The fey stammered, “Dr-drag-dragon.”

  “Is that an observation, or an answer?” Jonathan leered hungrily. He curled his fingers around the fey’s lower jaw, his talons pressing into the skin, but not breaking it. “You will tell me who you are and why you are here, or I will eat you. If I don’t like what I hear, I will eat you. If you lie to me, I will know, and I will,” his grip tightened fractionally, “eat you.”

  The fey opened his mouth and managed only a terrified squeak. At the threatening rumble of Jonathan’s growl, the fey began to blather as swiftly as he could articulate words. “I am Willem Phillip Brodie Mac ind Óclaich, former apprentice of Master Scribe Tiberius Laven Davort of the Illustrious Archives in Tír na nÓg. More recently, I was the Master Scribe to the All-Mother and Creatrix Danu, herself. The grand and magical realm of the fey, the Mounds, the Otherworld of legend and fact, home of the Tuatha de Dannan, has collapsed. I have pledged my loyalty and service to Lugh Samildanach, The Shining One of the Tuatha de Dannan, son of Cain, former and, most likely, future king of the Seelie Court, and Champion of the Sidhe. In him lies the fragile hope for the salvation of all the fey, and in following his command, I stand watch here until discharged of my duties or slain. For if I die today by the snap of your jaws or in six months by the agony of the Fade, I shall not fail in my oaths.” And with that, the Scribe jerked a pistol out of his jacket. He showed the dragon the profile of the gun, holding it out as if it were a talisman that should, by its very presence, drive him back.

  Jonathan snatched it away before the fey could figure out the proper manner to hold it. The fey sucked in a desperate lungful of air. Jonathan covered his mouth with his palm before Willem could commence with hysterical screaming. “You’re a Scribe?”

  Willem nodded.

  “Where is The Shining One?”

  Willem pointed toward the cliffs to the east.

  “Are there valuables in the truck?”

  The Scribe gave a pained look and then nodded again.

  “Now, you will do as I say, Scribe. You will get in your truck and you will leave.” Jonathan pointed toward the shortest route out of town, so the fey would know exactly what was expected of him. “Now.” Jonathan released him. “I will not tell you twice.”

  Willem slid along the side of the truck, keeping his back flat against the sheet metal until he climbed into the cab. Jonathan remained on the street, staring after the truck as it drove off in the direction he’d indicated. He waited a minute longer, then stepped between two of the shops that had just a narrow walkway between them. Once he was certain he was out of view, Jonathan became invisible once more. His wings flapped open and then with a mighty beat they carried him off the ground. As he flew after the truck, his form morphed back into the dragon.

  After the truck crested a hill and headed back into a valley, where it was hidden from the line of sight from the village, Jonathan swooped down. He snatched up the truck, balancing it beneath him by one claw. His invisibility covered the vehicle as he hoisted it into the air. A deep chuckle rumbled through him as he heard the muffled, terrified screams of the Scribe.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  The Glamour club was flat insane.

  Pretty much, it was like a dance club with a good helping of weirdness. Loads of people milled about. All of them some kind of fey or other, Malcolm guessed. And all of them just gushing magic about. The sounds all smashed together into a chaotic mixture of hums and music and thumping and buzzing and whooshing.

  Malcolm couldn’t even begin to figure out all the different smells it was such a mash up of scents. Like woods and dirt and perfume and food. Something sweet for one breath. Something spicy in the next. Then an odor like molded leather that made him cover his nose until he got past the troll.

  Everybody had at least a bit of something floating about them. Colors or lights or sparkles or flames. Malcolm gave Kieran another once over and noticed the distortion around him, like the heat coming off a hot engine in the summer. That shimmer. Sound waves, Malcolm guessed, on accounta Kieran said his power was sound. Everyone had something.

  He looked down at himself.

  Nothing.

  He raised his hands to look closer, watching for any kind of spark or color or anything.

  Still nothing.

  Kieran clapped a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder and then pointed to a table in the center of the room. “There’s Donovan with Dawn.”

  The tornado-funnel thing appeared in front of Kieran’s head. Malcolm almost fell backward at the sight of the thing. It ignored Malcolm this time and shot across the room where it hovered and swayed a foot away from Donovan. The tail of it reached all the way back to Kieran. People walked right through it like they didn’t even care. Malcolm stared at Kieran and then down the length of the tube. “What’re you doing?”

  “I’m listening in.”

  Malcolm gaped at him for a minute. “You were listening to me in the shower?”

  Kieran cut him a glance, as if he debated what he was going to say. “You were taking forever. If I’d’ve heard you having a wank or something, I’d have left you alone.” He smirked. “Probably.”

  “Say what?”

  “Just get over there.” Kieran laughed, placing a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder and propelling him forward.

  As he made his way across the club, Malcolm did his best to ignore all the crazy magic going everywhere. He scrubbed the nervous sweat from his palms onto his jeans as he slipped into a chair across from Donovan. Both Kieran and Dawn waited behind Donovan, one just to either side of him. Lined up on the table were what looked like five frosted-over snow globes, each the size of a fist, perched on wooden stands.

  Donovan began, “You’re Sidhe, Malcolm, one of the race of Noble Elves. Of all the races of fey, we are the most magical.”

  Malcolm leaned forward, sucking in every word. No one ever told him stuff about the fey before. Not his parents, who lied to him and raised him as a human. Not the goblins, who never spoke to him at all. Certainly not Rand, the ‘lesser fey’ bastard that kidnapped him. This was what Malcolm sought when he ran away from home. What he needed. Some answers. Some idea of what he was. What all this fey stuff was really about. He’d known being Sidhe made him something special, on accounta Rand hated him for it. Not knowing anything about magic, when everyone else knew all sorts of stuff, made him feel dumb.

  “The fairies are excellent with magicraft,” Donovan began. “They wove the magicraft into all the lights here in the club.” He waved around toward the lights along the ceiling that pulsed in different colors. “To make sure the fairy younglings apprentice in the correct type of magicraft, they use this method.” He indicated the snow-globe things. “These are so accurate that they can even detect magic in newborns.”

  “If you have even the slightest shred of magic, this will tell us what it is,” Dawn added.

  Malcolm glared at her for the dig. Malcolm didn’t care if she didn’t like him. He didn’t like her right back.

  Either Dawn didn’t notice or didn’t care about the glare. Donovan continued, “Let’s begin, shall we? The first fairy light reacts to elemental types of magic, like fire, water, earth, air, and metal.”

  Donovan reached out toward the first globe. Even inches away from it, the magic around his hand reacted. It reached for the globe, spiraling into it until the globe began to glow with the same brown color as the dust floating about him. When he withdrew, the light faded away.

  Taking a deep breath, Malcolm reached for the first globe. As his fingers
drew closer and closer, he watched it for any reaction at all. Even when he pressed his fingertips to the cool, glassy surface, nothing happened. He drew his hand back.

  “The second responds to ephemeral magic, such as sound, shadow, music, light, or mist.” Even as Donovan explained, Kieran reached out toward the second globe. The shimmer of vibration around him spilled into the globe, which began to glow with a white light. Kieran withdrew from it, and the globe went dark again. Slowly, Malcolm reached out for the second globe. He left his fingertips against it for a long time, just to be sure. Still nothing.

  Donovan didn’t give him time to dwell on this. “The third responds to biological magic, such as healing, blood, wounds, and fertility.” It was Dawn’s turn to reach out. The purple sparks dancing around her fingertips brightened until the prism of it tapped the globe and made it glow with the same purple hue. She pulled back and they all looked to Malcolm, who reluctantly reached out and touched it. Again, nothing. No wonder Dawn said his magic was retarded, or defective, or whatever. The magic around each of them went into the globes to make them light up. Only nothing was around Malcolm. It was obvious.

  “The fourth light responds to natural magic, both plants and animals.” Malcolm moved his hand over to it. The globe didn’t react. Not surprising. He’d grown up on a farm and hated every second of it. If he’d had any connection with any animals or plants, he’d have known about it.

  “The final one reacts to the more ethereal magic, such as celestial powers, the sun, moon, tides, seasons, emotions, and wisdom.” Malcolm stole a glance at Donovan, who just nodded for him to continue. Maybe his magic was something unusual. Maybe that’s why he didn’t know about it. Maybe… Just maybe this last one…

  Nothing.

  No magic came out of him. None of the globes even flickered in the least. Magic came out of everyone else. He cut a glance around the club. Magic was everywhere. Flickering and flowing.

  Malcolm looked at his hands. No magic.

  Just the bandages circling his wrists.

  He looked up at Donovan. Throat closed. Words abandoned him. Donovan tested him and Malcolm failed out big time.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Donovan considered the young Sidhe, who was as taut as an overdrawn bowstring. From beneath his messy bangs, the lad’s dark eyes watched everything with the weariness of an animal used to unaccountable beatings. He trusted nothing. Malcolm’s attention fixed back on Donovan, expectant to the point of not breathing. So tense he practically vibrated.

  “It’s worse than I feared.” Dawn leaned closer to speak with him, but the lad could still hear her. “He’s been severely damaged.”

  “It’s too early to make assumptions,” Donovan said. “That’s enough magic testing for one day, Malcolm. Kieran will show you the rest of the Glamour Club and introduce you to the other earthborns.”

  Malcolm didn’t utter a word or even nod. He just got up, crossed his arms so his bandaged wrists were tucked out of view, and trailed after Kieran. Dawn silently collected the fairy lights onto a tray and carried them away.

  Even as the earthborns left, Tiernan Kilgrave swaggered over toward Donovan. About halfway through the testing Tiernan showed up, but the younger Sidhe knew better than to interrupt. He made no secret of watching the proceedings from the booth where he waited, though. And now he strode over without waiting for an invitation. Cheeky bloke.

  “Is that him?” Tiernan dropped into the chair next to Donovan and then tilted it back on two legs to prop his feet on the table, ankles crossed. “Hard to believe someone so young kept up with that arse load of clients.”

  “I doubt Malcolm called them clients.” Donovan waved to the server to bring their drinks.

  Tiernan winked at the wood elf waitress who brought their usual preferences. As he watched the swish of her skirt as she left, Tiernan returned to his point. “Something’s bugging me. Look, your lad was jacking-up four to six humans a night, a good fifty or more going through a rotation. I should be snatching up the ones at the end of their grace period, beetling around to find a new Sidhe who’ll put out. Swoop in to save the day, so to speak.”

  “You’re such a humanitarian,” Donovan retorted with a snort.

  “Hey, man, don’t be a hater. I run an honest service, a very lucrative one at that. I don’t enchant anyone. Some other bonehead Sidhe does that. My point is that these humans aren’t surfacing. That’s seriously whacked.”

  “The Changeling may have moved his operation.”

  “Bang on. Could be your lad wasn’t the only Sidhe he nabbed to whore out.”

  Donovan’s hard glare leveled at Tiernan. “I need to know who this Changeling is and where he’s gone.”

  “Too right. I’m on it.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  That sense of having a safety net lasted all of two days.

  London had almost convinced herself that she could settle into something of a routine. She’d taken on a good case, the first one since Rico cursed her, and she’d solved it. She made her rent with cash enough for food and expenses for the month. Things almost seemed to be looking up, as much as it could for a cursed human.

  Then she’d gone back to the Fairy Circle Shop. She’d wanted to get the arrangements set up for her next dose. The first hint of anxiety was beginning to set in, the tremble in her hands that was becoming too familiar.

  But the Fairy Circle Shop was empty. Abandoned.

  For the next two days she staked it out. Besides the occasional passerby cupping their face to peer through the glass at the shadowed interior, there was no activity. Dread pooled like sickness in the pit of her gut.

  It was after sunset when someone rapped on her driver’s side window. London rolled it down and looked up at Joe’s shadowed face. “They’re gone.”

  “So I can see,” she got out of the car. “Where are they?”

  “The cave’s gone. Totally crushed.” Joe hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “I tagged it with the GPS on my phone the first time I was there, so I could find it in a pinch if I needed to.”

  “Good idea.” She folded her arms. “What happened?”

  “My best guess, raiding the All-Mother’s temple wasn’t such a hot idea. Could’ve pissed off any number of the wrong people. One of the few times we should be grateful that no one gives a shite about us. They don’t care enough to hunt us down and take revenge for our part.”

  London dragged her fingers through her hair. “Great. That’s just bloody great!” She spun and punched the heel of her hand against the hood of her car, leaving a dent. “Now what are we going to do?”

  He handed her a card with his contact information. “We keep looking. I’m going to head to Northern Ireland and see if I can find any leads up there.”

  “This is the second time I’ve been roped into doing the dirty work for a Sidhe and then got left high and dry. They are starting to get on my last nerve.” She accepted the card and stuck it in her pocket. “Selena once told me I needed to think like a vampire and quit doing deals with them. Just hunt them down and take what I need by force. Next Sidhe I find, I am seriously thinking about doing that.”

  Joe just chuckled, “Good luck with that. Any Sidhe with any kind of experience is going to be the devil’s own to subdue.”

  “Don’t laugh, I’m serious. I’m getting fed up with not being in control of my own life.”

  “I just don’t see it happening,” Joe leaned against the hood of her car. “You’d have to catch an earthborn and word on the street is that some Sidhe named Donovan is sweeping up the earthborn Sidhe and taking them to a safe house out west. You aren’t going to get past him. You aren’t likely to uncover any earthborns that he couldn’t find. So you might as well resign yourself to being someone’s hired gun.”

  “Even if I wa
s willing to resign myself to that, how can I find a Sidhe? Much less one who will take me on?”

  “Same way you found Rand. Just keep digging.” Joe glanced up at the empty Fairy Circle Shop and then up to the stars as if somewhere there might be an answer. “Tell you what, you find a Sidhe you can capture and keep drugged up like Rand’s so-called boss, give me a call. If I find a Sidhe willing to take on some cursed hired help, I’ll give you a shout.”

  “Deal.” London passed him her business card before she climbed back into her car. She waited until Joe had walked off before driving away herself. Her mind worked over the sliver of information he’d given her. A Sidhe called Donovan was rounding up the earthborn. She’d heard that name before. The Changeling that killed Rico had mentioned it.

  Forget the Sidhe anyway. All the fey. They cursed her. They cursed any human they got a notion to curse. Cursed. Enslaved. Same difference. She’d had enough of it.

  Might be a long shot. Might get her killed. But it was someplace to start. Time to get serious and quit letting the Sidhe jerk her around. Time to take control for a change.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  The last time Lugh visited the outpost in Kerry County the Sidhe still led the battle to banish the wizards from Ireland. That had been in the range of a few hundred years past. Less than a thousand, to be certain. Measurement of time lost its meaning when time stretched eternally before him. Once in a great while someone would inquire as to Lugh’s age, and in truth he did not know. There had been a celebration in the year he reached a thousand, for he’d been king of the Seelie Court on the occasion. He’d had a moment of reflection when he’d judged that he’d surpassed two thousand and failed to notice it. If pressed for his age now his most accurate answer would be that he was fairly certain he was a few thousand shy of reaching ten thousand. The Scribe Willem probably could determine Lugh’s age with a moderate amount of research. What Lugh did know was that he’d been sired within the first millennia after the All-Mother created the Mounds.