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

by WB McKay

  Owen let out a heavy sigh. I imagined him scrubbing his hand over his face. "Fine. I've got some stuff to tell you, too. Where are you at?"

  "Down the street from Lost in the Mist. I need to get to the Marsh in an hour."

  "Okay. Meet you at the plaza in five minutes." He hung up without saying goodbye.

  The plaza was a short drive from Lost in the Mist, even when one needed to drive slowly to avoid ghosts. The last time I'd been hit with one of Ava's ghost charms, I hadn't left her shop under its influence. This time I saw how many ghosts roamed the streets of Arcata, and it was a lot. It made sense once I thought about it. If ghosts had been gathering since the beginning of humanity, and they didn't leave, that meant an ever growing population. The implications made my skin crawl. Nothing had changed except my perception, but I'd rather go on pretending like I wasn't walking through ghosts every day. The longer I was friends with Ava, the more difficult that became.

  I parked and waved to a ghost passing by. He smiled and waved back before continuing on his way. His clothes pegged him as from the late 1960s or early 1970s. There were a lot of downsides to being a ghost, sure, but one perpetually outdated outfit for eternity had to be near the top.

  According to Patricia, the ghost charm typically lasted about thirty minutes, though it wasn't an exact science. I'd brought a couple more that she'd pointed out for me. I wanted as many eyes and ears as I could get when I went into battle, and she'd assured me she could wrangle up some help.

  "Are you just going to sit here all day?" asked Patricia, appearing in the seat next to me.

  I jerked so hard the tops of my legs hit the underside of the steering wheel. "I thought you didn't like cars," I said with a growl.

  "I don't like moving around in them," she clarified, turning up her nose. "It's unnatural."

  "Says the ghost," I said, with a grin.

  "There's nothing unnatural about being a ghost," said Patricia, affronted. "It's a perfectly valid afterlife choice." She tipped up her nose and floated through the front end of the car.

  I hopped out and joined her, scanning the streets for anything strange. Of course, everything was strange.

  During the day, the plaza was a center for human activity. Saturday farmer's markets were bustling, but even a Wednesday afternoon saw a few humans lounging on the grass, with people walking from shop to shop. Not so at three in the morning, as it turned out, but with all the ghosts floating about, it seemed busier than ever.

  Owen sped into sight, plowing through ghosts, not bothering to park properly. The ghosts didn't react; I guessed that was normal for them.

  Owen stormed out of his car, looking none too happy. I squared my hips and crossed my arms over my chest. "Clarissa is set up at the marsh as we speak. She has the home field advantage. She's been painting glyphs everywhere in preparation. I'm going to try shifting to fly over them, and avoid them the best I can when I shift back to human to fight her, but it will be hard to avoid all the glyphs. She's also set up cameras, and—"

  "Cameras?"

  "Yeah, I baited her into that. Well, I baited her into the fight. The cameras were a side effect. They're not important to what we're doing. Her real weapons will likely be the scythe and her sword and the glyphs. And she can use pixie pockets. We don't know if she's killed anymore fae at this point, so we'll have to assume she may have more magic and be ready for it."

  "I doubt it. She hasn't had much time."

  "True, and the ghost gossip says she hasn't had time. Ava's friends have been gathering around Clarissa, watching. Even so, it's best to be on guard in case we missed something." I paused. "I'm telling you all this because I could use your help to get Ava out of the way once she's free of the pixie pocket, but I need you to trust me if I say run. I'm not calling in FAB on this because protocol will force Art to call in a team, and Clarissa wants to fight me. She'll hop on a teleportation glyph and be gone again. Their priority will be grabbing Clarissa, not Ava. I want your help, but you'll have to be on the sidelines. Understand?"

  His glare was fierce.

  "We don't have time for me to guess what your problem is," I told him. "Out with it."

  "Your plan is to go out there and get yourself killed. I guess I've got some reservations about that."

  "Okay, first of all, I'm no martyr, so get that out of your head right now. I wouldn't have called you for help if I thought I was going off to some heroic end. Second of all, I can handle myself. I'm a better fighter than Clarissa. She knows it. She thinks she has the upper hand because she's up to things I don't know about. But I know she's at the marsh, I know she's spraying out glyphs over everything and I know she's going into this fight pissed off and cocky. We can do this. We just have to be smarter than her."

  "Yes," he said. "We can."

  "And I'm the more experienced of the two of us, and if I say get the hell out of my way, you're going to do it."

  "Okay."

  He looked like he meant it, and honestly, it surprised me. I wouldn't have listened. Damn. He impressed me in the most unexpected ways. "Good."

  "He's always been cute like that," Patricia said, startling me. I'd forgotten she was there.

  Owen searched the space where Patricia stood. "What is it?"

  "Patricia." I explained to Owen. "I told you I was at Lost in the Mist. I found some charms. This is Ava's friend. She's been working with others to keep an eye on what Clarissa is up to out on the marsh."

  He nodded in Patricia's general direction. "Nice to meet you."

  "I've always liked him," commented Patricia.

  "What's she saying?" asked Owen.

  "Let's stay on task here, okay?" I was trying not to feel rushed, but I felt the weight of time on my shoulders. I believed Clarissa would wait awhile if I was late to the marsh, but I knew every minute we stood there was a minute Ava was in danger. "You said you had things to tell me. What have you been doing?" I swallowed, aware that I was reminding both of us of him flying off on his own earlier.

  "Talked to people," he said. "They wouldn't help. I don't know what I expected. Mostly chased my own tail, but I did do some research that should help us here. I don't think we need to worry about dodging Clarissa's glyphs. We can turn them around on her."

  "What?"

  "See," said Patricia. "This is why I like him."

  "It's pretty awesome, actually. I'm torn between telling every fae in the world and keeping this knowledge to myself. Obviously anyone else out there who knows is working to keep it quiet, or else everyone would be doing this, wouldn't they? Clarissa really stumbled on something here. Of course I can't be sure that we can repossess them, but I don't see any reason why we couldn't—not with how she's using them."

  "Hello, 911?" I put my hand to my ear like it was a fake phone. "Yes, my friend here has a bad case of gibberish."

  "Right, okay, I can start at the beginning." His nostrils flared as he sucked in all the air he could hold.

  "Good idea, I bet you were running low on oxygen after that ramble of yours."

  His lips quirked, and then he dove right in. "Glyphs are fae—ancient fae—and used to be a respected art. Clarissa is not fae, or at least she didn't used to be, I can't speak for what she is now, but anyhow, she had to manipulate the glyphs to get her results. Clarissa perverted them so they would work for a witch. See, Clarissa draws the glyphs on the ground or an object, and at that point, they're simply human paintings. But what do witches do?"

  "Manipulate magic."

  "Yes!" He gestured to the ground, like he could see a glyph painted at his feet. "What they do is largely just moving magic from one place to another. So they will pull elements, or the magic of life—however you want to think of it—from somewhere like a nearby tree or animal or a fire and they will use that for something else. They typically use their own bodies as the conduit for moving that magic around, which comes with a price. It wears on their human bodies over time, like waves passing over rocks."

  "Why would they do th
at?"

  "To have magic."

  "Okay, so they pull from something nearby and filter that into the glyphs to activate them?"

  "Yes."

  "And fae glyphs don't work like that," I said.

  "Correct. Fae glyphs are active when we draw them."

  "Clarissa has those glyph bombs," I said. "Charms are always active and ready to go, but her glyph bombs have to be activated at the time."

  "Correct," he said. "Fae charms are imbued with magic, drawn from the fae at the time of their creation. They take a lot more magic and are draining to create, which is why only the stronger fae can make them, and they're still seen as something of worth in society."

  "I'm understanding now." And if I had more questions, we didn't have time for my curiosity. "So how do we make the witch glyphs fae?"

  "Clarissa twisted the glyphs to work with witch magic. I don't see why we couldn't do it back."

  "So, like, we draw them differently?"

  "That's witch thinking. When she draws the glyphs, she is putting them in certain designs to control how the magic acts and filtering specific magic in at exact rates. There are so many factors that go into what she's doing, I'm not sure how many other witches would ever figure it out, or even want to deal with it if they knew. No, glyphs work differently for us. Drawing glyphs used to be natural to the fae. Like flying. The first few times we did it we weren't great at it. But I've flown so many times since then I don't even remember learning how to fly. It's just what we do. You have to think like that about the glyphs. Where Clarissa is drawing out a specific design and igniting it with magic, fae magic is intuitive. You can draw a glyph how you see it, with what it means to you, and you have a glyph that is going to be personalized to you, your intentions, and your magic."

  "Okay... "

  "For example, let's say that Clarissa has a glyph painted on the ground already. Remember: until she hits it with magic, it's a human drawing, that's all. She has drawn a rough looking circle. You look at it and you see an apple. You draw a little stem on top to make that apple clearer to you, and you connect with that image, and that image... what do you think a glyph that looked like an apple would do?"

  "Poison," I answered immediately. "Snow White's apple."

  "Sure. And what would that look like in action?"

  "Standing on it would poison someone?"

  "Then that's what would happen. Now, one of the key differences here between a fae glyph and what Clarissa has done is that Clarissa draws them and activates them when she wants to. When we draw it, there is already magic in that, so our glyphs are true glyphs from the beginning, meaning that they are active. So in the example with the apple, anytime anyone stepped on that poison apple, they'd be poisoned. Until you turned it off."

  "How would I turn it off?"

  "How do you feel you'd turn it off?"

  "Kicking it so it didn't look like an apple anymore."

  "That'd work."

  "Okay," I said. "I'm getting it. But there is something I don't understand."

  "Hit me."

  I playfully slapped his arm, but both of us were too serious and worried to smile at my attempt at humor. "If you're saying that any fae could basically do any magic they wanted to with these drawings, why haven't they always done it?"

  "Arrogance," he answered without pause. "Fae society is more interested in showy talents than a skill we could all potentially use in our own way. Also, I should stress that you can't do anything with it. It has to be keyed to you and your magic. I don't want you to overthink that though. From what I understand, your initial instinct is going to be what works for you and your magic."

  "How polite of you not to mention that my magic is keyed to death, so poison is most likely to be in my skill set." And how rude of me to just say it. He looked supremely uncomfortable, and damn, I knew I had to really like him by how bad I felt about that. "So what do you think is in your skill set?"

  "Like I said, overthinking messes it up. I'm worried I won't be able to do anything with this because I am big on overthinking how things work."

  "Hey. I'm sure you can do it." It was weird to see Owen doubting himself. I generally thought of him as cocky. "Good job researching. I think we can turn this into a real plan. And I think we can do it in the thirty minutes we have left before we need to meet Clarissa."

  Thirty minutes turned out to be more than enough time. There were too many variables to come up with anything too strict. While we knew where Clarissa was in the marsh and what she'd been up to, we were still only guessing at what she might throw at us. We came up with some ideas for counter attacks, a plan to get Ava, and that's all we needed.

  Owen's troubled expression disagreed.

  "We've got this," I assured him.

  Still with the nervous face.

  "This is what I do," I reminded him. "I'm well practiced at winging it."

  He snorted and smoke trailed out his nose. "I would think you'd get sick of the bird puns."

  "Never," I said. "What? You too good for a dragon pun? Nothing about fire or gold hoarding?"

  "I don't know," he said. "People don't usually tease me. I'm a dragon."

  "That explains so much," I said. With both of us on a good note, I turned to head back toward Ava's car, zigging and zagging to avoid the ghosts. Abruptly, when I was leaping to the side to get out of an elderly faun's way, the ghosts disappeared. I needed to save the charms for the battlefield.

  "All right, Patricia. You know what to do." She'd promised to do that awful cold breeze thing if she needed my attention. "Here we go."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Arcata Marsh and Wildlife Sanctuary, most commonly called the marsh, was a large wetland full of trails that meandered through long grasses. I parked at the visitor center. Clarissa waited in a separate gravel area where people parked before going for a jog or simply enjoying the bay. I thought it best to leave Belinda's car away from the scene of our battle. We didn't need a second car getting smashed.

  I walked down the paths I'd mostly seen only from the sky. The marsh was one of my favorite places to come fly in my crow form. There were an amazing variety of birds to admire, and it was easier to see them when they accepted me as one of their own. Crows were scavengers, so even the smaller birds weren't easily frightened away. The marsh was peaceful. I hated that it was about to be part of such a shitstorm.

  I came to the last bend before the open space that would serve as our battleground, staying hidden behind the bushes. Clarissa wasn't immediately visible. The night was lit by a half-moon, enough to see she wasn't in the open, but not enough to see if she stood under the few lone trees across the way. Thankfully, there was no one else around. It was early enough to avoid joggers, I hoped.

  As I surveyed the area, Clarissa stepped out from behind one of the trees I'd pegged for her hiding spot, sword in hand. I hadn't seen her weapon before, and I took a moment to watch the way she held it. She was showy enough with language and magic that I expected her to be the same with her sword, but she held it like she was used to using it. I got the impression she at least had an idea of how to fight.

  She'd set up a camera on a tripod. It was pointed at me, red light flashing.

  I walked out onto the open trail and angled toward Clarissa. She spun to face me, leveling her sword at my chest. I drew both of my swords in response. I wanted to have both hands full so I wouldn't be tempted to use one of them to hit her with a glowing ball of death.

  When I drew close enough to speak without shouting, I said, "Let your hostage go, and we can begin the fight." There was a chance she wanted to fight me enough that she'd be willing to let Ava go. I didn't think it was likely without some convincing, but I thought I'd give Clarissa the chance.

  "You aren't the one to make demands in this duel," said Clarissa, using her free hand to toss her abundant red curls over her shoulder. "I hold all the power, and we both know that." Her hand moved from her hair to a fanny pack at her waist. I had no doubt it wa
s full of glyph bombs. I didn't have a solution for those beyond not letting them touch me. I was counting on the fact that she'd only used teleportation glyphs on the ground to mean she couldn't teleport with the smaller versions. I supposed I'd find out the truth soon enough. "You should be asking if what you have to offer is worth your friend's life."

  My eyes turned to the skies. During the day, I knew the dragon's underbelly was a light blue, but in the dark of night he was nothing more than a dark spot in the sky. He circled down closer to us, and a moment later, great orange gouts of flame erupted from his huge mouth, lighting up the full length of Owen's dragon form. He was something to behold, all right, magnificent and fearsome; someone I was glad to have on my side.

  Owen swooped down fast enough to get my heart racing—it seemed impossible he'd do anything but hit the ground at that speed—but he turned at the last second, ascending with the camera and tripod gripped in one claw.

  To Clarissa's credit, she hadn't run. Yet.

  She pointed up at the sky, enraged. "That's mine!"

  Perhaps I gave her too much credit. Maybe it wasn't bravery that kept her standing on her feet when a dragon threatened her life, maybe it was delusion.

  "The girl in your pixie pocket has a dragon in the family," I shouted, to be sure she'd hear every word over the blood pounding in her ears. "If you don't produce her, alive and well, he's not going to stay out of this."

  "How will you get your friend back if you kill me?"

  "I think that's a risk the dragon is willing to take."

  "I don't believe you."

  "I went camping with that dragon once," I told her. Camping was the best word for having slept out on the ground in Faerie. "I really wished we'd had some marshmallows. I mean, is it really even camping if you don't have marshmallows? Do you like marshmallows, Clarissa?"

  "Are you trying to kill time? Do you have reinforcements on the way?"

  "I'm not trying to kill you. That's what I'm saying."

  "By way of implying that I'm to be roasted up like a burnt marshmallow."

  "Like I said, we didn't have any marshmallows. Maybe you'll be lightly toasted. I don't have a good feeling though."