Reaped from Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 2)

by WB McKay

  Contents

  Copyright

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  A Note From the Author

  Thank you

  www.McKayManor.com

  Copyright © 2016 Robert McKay

  Copyright © 2016 Faith McKay

  Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs

  All rights reserved.

  REAPED FROM FAERIE

  (Stolen Magic, #2)

  WB McKay

  CHAPTER ONE

  Vegetables. Fresh, delicious fruits and vegetables everywhere I looked. It was the way every Saturday morning should start. I strolled from stand to stand of the Arcata Farmer's Market, comparing prices and quality so I could get the best deal. I had my eye on strawberries. They had been in season long enough that they weren't prohibitively expensive this week.

  Perhaps following the direction of my gaze, a group of pixies flew to the strawberries. They promptly licked the first three they touched. I cringed. This was a human market, the only fae around were me and these assholes, and they were using glamour to stay invisible from human eyes. Unlike mine. Before I could discourage them from further shenanigans, one of them smiled wickedly and waved his hand, creating a swirling light, signifying an open pixie pocket. Two of her buddies chucked a few of the strawberries inside.

  Troublemakers. Every pixie I'd ever met had been a troublemaker of the worst kind—the kind that didn't like me. They were frequent fliers at the Magical Object Division. They loved hiding treasures in magical pocket universes only they could access. If that treasure happened to be something that could take out a city block? All fun and games to a pixie. A long day at work for Sophie Morrigan.

  I deliberately turned my back, so as not to encourage them further. Maybe I could pull a basket from the back of the stand, or buy strawberries at one of the other tables. If the pixies didn't get there first.

  One of them zipped in front of my face, and before I knew it, the swarm surrounded me. I ducked and darted around the nearest humans, who assisted my escape by pulling away from the weird lady swatting at empty air. I could have told them I saw a bee—that was a perfectly acceptable human response—but it wasn't like the humans would ever be my friends or anything. Not that I had a lot of luck making fae friends, either. Still, I was trying. Really. Truly. I was working on it. Or thinking about working on it. It was on the agenda, for sure.

  Safely on the other side of the market, I resumed my relaxing stroll, only to freeze my steps the moment my phone chirped. I considered ignoring it. It was my day off… but there could have been an emergency at work. At least that's what I told myself. The truth was that I could never resist the siren call of my phone, so much so that I looked into the possibility of magical tampering. Dangerous magical objects were my job, after all. Hammond, my boss at the MOD, assured me he had done the legwork several years back to make sure that cell phone companies weren't doing anything funny to keep people so transfixed by these little machines. Maybe brain chemistry was to blame, or a primal need for connection, or maybe it was simply a bad habit. Whatever it was, nothing could stop me from swiping the slider on the screen. I don't know why the message from Owen surprised me, it should have seemed old hat by now.

  Owen: What are you up to?

  Me: It's Saturday.

  He'd asked me the same question for the last three Saturdays, so I was starting to get annoyed. He knew what I was doing. There was no reason to ask.

  Owen: Farmer's Market day. Find any good salad mix lately?

  I shuddered. Now I knew he was teasing me and my mouth quirked up at the corner. I hadn't eaten a salad since I'd killed the maethe with him a few weeks ago in Faerie. Watching her turn into a rotting pile of vegetable matter had put me off salads. I had a hard enough time with the broccoli Phoebe insisted I eat so I didn't get scurvy. For being a tree spirit tied to a redwood, she sure did delight in eating something that looked like miniature trees.

  Me: That's not funny. :P

  The pixies were back, and they tugged at my fingers. The little bastards wanted my phone. No doubt to hide it away in a pixie pocket where I'd never be able to get it back.

  "I will eat you!" I hissed. The father walking by picked up his son as he hurried past. The pixies cackled. Maybe they wanted me to freak the humans out. I was about to stash my phone in my pocket, hoping that "out of sight, out of mind" worked on pesky pixies, when another text came in.

  Owen: Then why are you smiling?

  My head snapped up and I found him on the other side of the market. He wore a faded pair of jeans, a dark blue button-down shirt, and a big grin.

  I rolled my eyes and waved him over, effectively swatting two of the pixies in front of my face.

  "Mean crow!" one of the pixies I'd hit whined. Huh. Maybe these bastards really did know who I was. Good. I'd like to think my reputation would be enough to scare them. I bared my teeth at the sucker, and two of his buddies flew right at my mouth, grabbing at my lips with their sharp nails.

  "What the damn hell?" I backed away, falling hard on my butt. At least I'd made it past the sidewalk to the lawn of the plaza square. "Ouch."

  The market noise wasn't enough to muffle Owen's chuckle. He loped across the grassy square in the center of the market, looking every bit like a predator on the hunt, despite the silly grin. I wondered how all the ordinary humans would react if they knew a dragon was in their midst. Probably not at all since they thought dragons were works of fiction. Sadly, they were not. They were a very real pain in my ass. Especially Owen.

  I knew it had been a mistake when I told him he should check the market out sometime. I hadn't intended it as an invitation. I was avoiding him, actually. He'd been trying way too hard to do the friend thing since he'd pulled away from that almost-kiss and said we should be friends. I'd expected never to hear from him again. Apparently, forced friendship made him feel better about rejecting my ill-planned advance. On my part, the whole thing felt endlessly uncomfortable. I didn't need somebody else in my life that felt obligated to be there.

  The pixies scattered at the sight of him.

  I got on my feet before he did anything weird, like offer me his hand or sit in the dirt next to me. "Well doesn't that just figure."

  "Excuse me?" asked Owen.

  "The big mean crow, they can't bother enough, but they spot a softhearted dragon and flee like they are on fire." If any humans overheard me, I knew they'd never piece together the truth from what I said.

  "Soft?"

  "You heard me."

  "I've always wished to get to know them, actually. They seem neat."

  "Neat? Mischievous!"

  "That's kinda what interests me."

  "Haven't you had enough mischief lately?" I asked, referencing our trip to Faerie.

  "Apparently not." He grinned. He did that a lot. Before I could come up with anything smart to say, he changed the subject. "Fancy meeting you here." He adjusted the bag he held in one arm, a head of bok choy peeking out the top.

  "You didn't have to buy any vegetables. I already know you're stalking me," I said, fighting the grin that kept trying to match his. It had to be the sparkling g
reen eyes. I'd never seen eyes that color before, and nobody else made me smile just by smiling at me.

  The grin only broadened at the accusation. "How dare you besmirch my honor? I came here seeking fresh vegetables for the new chef I hired at Smoke and Mirrors."

  I shuddered inwardly at the mention of his club. I'd only been there twice and neither experience had gone well. "New chef, huh? This one know how to make a real burger?"

  "You'll have to stop by and find out. First burger is on the house." He pulled a small card from his pocket and handed it to me.

  The card was printed with the image of a beautiful burger and said: Entitles Sophie Morrigan to one free burger and drink of her choice. Valid photo ID required.

  I was about to comment on the ID requirement when my phone went off, blaring Donna Summer's She Works Hard For The Money. "Work," I said unnecessarily, and slid the coupon into my shorts pocket. I swiped the screen and answered the call. "Morrigan."

  "Sophie, I'd like you to come in on a case," said Hammond, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He was the head of the Magical Object Division of the Faerie Affairs Bureau. You didn't get that job by being an expert coddler. He was asking me rather than telling me, and that made my stomach drop. "There is a reaper's scythe missing."

  Ugh. Another death magic case. It seemed like that was all I was getting assigned since my recent run-in with my mother, The Morrigan. Everyone had already known the goddess of battle and death was my mother, but now I was dragged in on every case that had even a minor link to death magic. It was annoying to have the mother that abandoned me constantly thrown in my face, but death magic cases always brought with them a hefty bonus. And a reaper's scythe? That was weird. And curious. "What would anyone want with a scythe?" What could be important enough to risk pissing off reapers?

  "I have no idea," replied Hammond. "But they decided it was worth killing the reaper and another woman for." His voice had grown even more gentle.

  "Hammond, I know there's something you don't want to say, so out with it," I snapped. Owen eyed me quizzically. "I don't like being jerked around." Owen chuckled and nodded, making a scribbling motion in the air as if he were taking notes.

  "The case is at Wailing Lakes. The dead woman is a banshee." The line went quiet for a moment. I was supposed to respond, I knew that, but my words were stopped by the sudden lump in my throat. Hammond rambled on. "You don't have to take this one. I probably shouldn't assign it to you since it's your family, but I don't think anyone else would have as much insight in the matter as you do."

  Insight. That might have been true, but he also meant that the other fae didn't take death magic seriously, and they held no respect for my banshee sisters. Even if it weren't for that, there was nothing to consider: this was my case. "I'll be right there." I ended the call and tucked my phone in my pocket. Owen was right in front of me, but my vision had gone blurry, so I couldn't make out his expression.

  "Sophie, what's wrong?" His hand gently brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn't realize had fallen.

  "One of my sisters was murdered," I said, choking out the words. "Fuck. I didn't even ask who it was. It could be Belinda." As much as I wanted to say it didn't matter, that I cared the same for all of my sisters, Belinda raised me. Belinda was… Belinda. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, intent on calling Hammond back to ask, but found he'd already sent me the case file. I opened it and scanned for the name. "Daphne," I said, at first relieved, then guilty. Then sad for Daphne. Then sad for Belinda, who was closer to Daphne than I was. Then sad for Daphne again, who'd been so full of life. And then again guilty, for not being sadder for Daphne, because I was still too relieved it wasn't Belinda.

  I was emotionally wrung out already, and the case hadn't even started.

  Other than Belinda, I wouldn't say I was "close" with any of my sisters, but Daphne had always been around. She hung out with Belinda, and by proxy, was around me. She was always kind to me when I went through her lane at Good Food Market, the store where she worked. She laughed easily. She was always up for doing pretty much anything. I bet if I'd ever thought to ask her, she would have liked to go surfing with me, or gone for a ride on the back of Bliss. Why hadn't I ever thought to reach out to someone like Daphne? We could have been friends.

  This is a case. This is a case. This is a case.

  But it was Daphne. Why would someone kill Daphne? For that matter, why would someone kill any of my sisters? Banshees kept to themselves, most of them living in Wailing Lakes, a community just for daughters of The Morrigan. That qualifier—daughters of The Morrigan—was used only by Belinda and myself, as most simply used "banshee community". It was fair. I am the only non-banshee daughter of The Morrigan. It was easy to forget about me in the swell of several hundred banshees, and I didn't live there anymore, anyway. I'd struck out on my own and moved into The Arbor when I was seventeen. Still, Wailing Lakes was where I'd been raised, where Belinda still lived, and would always hold a piece of me.

  "I can drive you to Wailing Lakes," said Owen, keeping pace beside me.

  I hadn't even realized I'd started walking. After I'd bounced off three patrons of the market with muttered apologies, I stopped and rubbed my eyes until they were mostly clear. "I can drive myself." I looked around and saw that I'd gone in the wrong direction and was on the opposite side of the square from Bliss, my motorcycle. Owen stayed wisely silent while I glared across the square and heaved a sigh. "Did you bring your motorcycle, or a car?"

  "Car," he said, producing a set of keys and pointing them at a car only a few spaces away. It beeped.

  "Fine," I said, and walked to the car. Through my haze I noted that it was ridiculously fancy. I would have teased him for it if I were in better shape. Instead, I settled into the soft leather seat, too distracted to truly appreciate it.

  I didn't hear Owen slide into the driver's side or start the engine, but when I became aware of my surroundings, we were pointed toward Wailing Lakes. The drive from Arcata took about an hour.

  "Shit," I swore. "I wasn't thinking. I can't leave Bliss at the plaza for who knows how long."

  "Not a problem," he assured me. "I had her towed back to your place."

  "That was thoughtful of you. I appreciate it." It was one less thing to fret about, yet I felt no relief. There were too many things to worry about.

  "So, how has work been?" asked Owen, interrupting the negative spiral of my thoughts.

  "It's been better."

  "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

  He was still trying to take care of me. Normally I'd tell him I didn't need it, but I'm one of the fae who can't lie. He was trying to take my mind off my sisters, and I needed to think about something else more than I needed to fight with him. "Everybody's talking about me since our little trip into Faerie. I mean, they always talked, but now it's like me and The Morrigan are all they can talk about. Not to mention constantly being assigned to death magic cases like this one. It's a freaking bummer."

  "People suck," said Owen, nodding sagely.

  I managed a weak laugh. "Yeah, people suck."

  "Not me though. As people go, I'm pretty awesome."

  That time I was surprised into a real laugh. Owen was cocky as hell. "I wouldn't go so far as awesome," I replied, feeling more myself. "I think you've climbed to the heady heights of mediocrity."

  "You wound me, little bird." Owen snorted. "Or try to, anyway. Actually, I think I heard a proverb like that. In the kingdom of assholes, the decent man is king."

  I nodded and pulled myself up straight in the seat, scrubbing my hands over my face. "Pretty sure that was written on a cave wall somewhere." The truth was, Owen was being far more than decent. Good. Too good, actually. That was the norm for him, which was entirely my problem. I didn't know how to keep in mind his motivations for his nice behavior were complicated when he was sitting there looking like he did.

  Owen drove on in silence, and I pushed down my grief enough to get into case s
olving mode. I couldn't assume the motive for the murders was stealing the scythe. But why else would somebody kill a banshee, especially one that lived at Wailing Lakes? They hardly interacted with other fae. And a reaper. No one messed with reapers. Everyone would meet a reaper someday, and while I only knew so much about them, I knew enough to know you wouldn't want to piss off the people escorting you to wherever your soul went. Not that the murders mattered much to anyway—at least, they didn't matter much to the case I was working. I was tracking down the scythe. The murderers only mattered in that they affected finding the scythe. So the real question wasn't who murdered a banshee and a reaper, but who the hell stole a reaper's scythe? And why?

  CHAPTER TWO

  We turned off the highway onto an old road of crumbling pavement, off that onto a gravel road, then onto a dirt road. Glamour didn't protect Wailing Lakes like it did Volarus, the fae city, or The Arbor, my suburban community home. Only banshees lived at Wailing Lakes, and they weren't gifted with the magic of glamour. They weren't about to ask anyone else for help, either. Banshees weren't interested in interacting with other people. It was a family trait.

  It wasn't like glamour had ever proven necessary for them, anyway. Wailing Lakes relied on seclusion—and a spooky reputation. A community made entirely of what appeared to be young, dark-haired women who wanted nothing to do with the outside world and had a penchant for loud keening? For most people—humans and fae alike—that was a hard no. But for me? Just thinking about it made me long to curl up on Belinda's couch, lay my head in her lap and watch TV. That was something Daphne would never do again. She'd never have dinner at Belinda's table again, either. Damn. I hoped Belinda was dealing okay.

  My phone buzzed, and I only pulled it out because I thought it would be work. I was more than a little surprised to see Ava, somber expression with an octopus on her head, staring up at me. "I should take this," I told Owen, and in the brief time I had to decide, I quickly told him, "It's Ava." His sister and him weren't talking. I didn't know how long that had been going on for, or why. All I knew was both of them were tense when the other was mentioned. I answered my phone and tried to ignore the tension filling the car. "Hey, Ava. How are you?"