by N. M. Howell
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About the Author
Also By N.M. Howell
Portal
N.M. Howell
Edited by
Gail Reiman
Dungeon Media Corp.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.
Copyright © 2017 Dungeon Media Corp.
All rights reserved.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About the Author
Also By N.M. Howell
1
Raina’s muscles tensed with every mile as the commuter train neared the city. It grew around her, above her, a vast geometric wilderness that both soared skyward and hemmed in. She gazed out the window, bleak gray sky, granite, and concrete, until her eyes caught a bright symbol enlarging as she was moved closer.
Red and glowing, a glyph took up almost the entire space of a billboard. Her guts clenched. The Dark Fae symbol read: Kill the Light. Beneath, in several human languages was the conversely translated legend: Solidarity. The passenger cars went dark as the ground swallowed them up. Raina now stared at her reflection. Big sunglasses, black hoodie, face covered with so much foundation it looked like a mask.
But a mask was what she needed.
Squealing and hissing, the train slowed to a stop in the bowels of Penn Station. Raina disembarked. She considered heading out of the catacombs of the rail station, onto the street, and hailing a cab. It was still a long way to Chinatown. But the subway fee was only three dollars. Five years ago, it wouldn’t have been a consideration, but now?
Penn Station was a low-ceilinged bunker compared to the soaring spaces of Grand Central Terminal. But that was too close to the park, too close to the ruins of the portal. Raina couldn’t face seeing it. Not yet. She headed for 34th Street and the southbound A Train--just like any other New Yorker. While she felt eyes on her, quick glances showed that no one paid attention to the tiny, slender girl in black hoodie and cargo pants. Her boots added some height, perhaps making her appear closer to human.
Warm air rushed down the tunnel, a harbinger of the approaching train. A strand of hair blew out from beneath her hood. Like all of her kind, her hair was transparent. Before the destruction of the portal, it had been a cascade of platinum and gold, reflecting surrounding colors, and the warm glow that once emanated from her skin. It took a lot of work to dye. In the speeding windows of the train, the swirling strands now resembled, and felt like, burned hay.
Raina shivered as humans closed around her, awaiting the subway, hands clenching, shifting her weight. She felt she might get swept up in the throng as she might by a strong wave. Even in the crush, she felt so alone. Was this the way humans felt all the time?
The A Train stopped, passengers poised behind the doors. Raina caught another reflection. Her breath froze in her lungs. A man in a transit police uniform stood behind her. No, not a man. His eyes and hair were pitch black, his complexion the colors of a bruise. Dark Fae.
Unbidden, her left hand clutched her right forearm. Raina sought a tingle, a pulse. Five years before, she’d been branded with a glyph of service when she’d accepted the position of chief spokesfae of Human-Fae media relations. It was a condition of the five-year contract. Were the Dark Fae tracking her even after the glowing symbols had faded from her skin? But she felt nothing.
In the rush of passengers on and off the train, she lost sight of him. Like the wave she feared, she was practically forced onto the subway train. Gathering her wits, she found a seat on the side opposite the door, staring out the windows for a sign of the uniformed Fae. Passengers all sat, the subway not crowded at this hour.
The train didn’t move.
Her eyes swept the departing passengers, the ones lingering, the homeless who shuffled between garbage cans for recyclables. The Dark Fae had been wearing a transit uniform. Had he stopped the train? Were they coming for her?
With a gasp and a groan, the subway lurched and clattered down the tracks. Raina was able to suck in a slow breath. Still, she scanned the platform, even as the train picked up speed. Finally, they were swallowed by the tunnel.
Raina hugged herself, felt herself shaking, felt an icy trickle along her spine as she settled back in the seat. But her relief was short-lived.
Across from her, an advertisement above the window caught her eye. An acidic surge roiled her insides causing her muscles to clench and her breath to leave her. The photo depicted the ruins of the portal to the Light Fae realm, humans gathered around the cyclopean structure with cameras, smiling and pointing. Visit the University and Museum of Fae Metaphysics, the ad read, along with a phone number and website.
It brought it all back to her in vivid detail. Five years ago today, Raina’s greatest triumph followed by her greatest terror. On the night following her promotion and appointment, the Dark Fae had attacked, destroying the only connection to her realm, her race, her family. She herself had been violently confronted, and forced to flee the city.
And now, what, they had made it some kind of sick tourist attraction?
Stunned, she couldn’t stop staring. The glyphs carved into the risers were now chipped and marred. The beautiful ivy that once held the graceful architecture of the structure behind the portal now threatened to pull it apart. She gaped at the fallen pillars, the crumbled spires. A broad banner hung from the ruined building, bearing the same glyph she’d seen on the billboard.
Kill the Light.
Finally, she was able to tear her eyes away. The path to her home, the conduit of her magic, was now marred by Dark Fae mockery and vio
lence. Raina fought down nausea. She didn’t know if the realm had been destroyed along with the portal, if her family yet lived. Her jaw trembled, her eyes prickling with tears that threatened to blind her.
No!
She drew a steadying breath. Raina hadn’t returned to the site of the devastation to lose it on the A Train. When word of what the enemy Fae had done reached her, Raina was determined to enroll in their so-called University of Fae Metaphysics. She needed to reconnect with the Bright Realm, replenish her magic. When the portal had fallen, she’d been cut off. The loss was indescribable, akin to losing her sight or hearing or her right hand, but so much more. She felt weaker with every passing day, her body but a wisp of its former self. With so little magic left in her, she wondered how much longer she would live.
A couple across from her gestured at the ad, and Raina listened in. Even if her magic was practically nil, her hearing was much keener than any human’s.
“We should see it while we’re here. Such a tragedy.” The woman, blonde and chubby, spoke to her husband who sported balding brown hair and thick spectacles.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have much sympathy for the Bright Fae. They always had some kind of secret, separatist agenda, you know? At least the Shadow Fae have opened up about who they are. Let the world know what they’re about, how they operate. Still, I’m not paying a few hundred bucks for some magic classes.”
“I think the terrorist attack probably changed their attitude. If the Bright Fae could be taken out, so could the Dark Fae. They probably need solidarity more than people do,” the woman said.
The bald man made a doubtful face. “Well, it’s certainly human nature to want to gather friends and allies close when you’ve been attacked. But is it Fae nature? Who can say?”
“I always thought that spokeswoman, the Fae princess, was so beautiful. I wonder what happened to her?”
“Oh, God, seriously?” The man’s brows rose above his glasses. “That dim-witted party girl? You’d think the Fae would want to be represented by someone a little more thoughtful, more serious and intelligent. Instead, they gave us a pretty face.”
Raina’s pretty face heated up. What was going on here? The two were talking like the Dark Fae were the victims, not the aggressors. And who was this human jerk to say how serious or intelligent she was? She restrained herself from getting up and giving them a piece of her mind. Raina was in the city covertly. Once again, she reminded herself she hadn’t returned to Manhattan to lose it on the A Train.
“Hold it together, chica,” she whispered to herself.
At each stop, she tensed, eyes swarming over people waiting on the platform. She saw no more Dark Fae. Not a soul paid attention to her. Of course, in New York City, she could’ve driven a chariot drawn by unicorns and not garner a second glance. Such were the ways of big cities.
Raina changed trains at Washington Square Park, only waiting a few minutes for the D Train toward City Hall. Though her eyes were everywhere, no one seemed interested in the slight girl in black. She walked among the humans to the platform and boarded the train.
At Chrystie and Grand streets, she emerged into the gloomy, windswept day. So far, she’d been in the city for less than twenty minutes. She turned to find the sway-back roofs of Chinatown in the near distance. Joining the pedestrians, she made her way toward her destination. Maintaining anonymity in the greatest city in the world proved no problem. Her magic was virtually non-existent, her skin had no glow. She felt powerless, anxious, alone. That was probably why she didn’t stand out. Raina was practically human.
2
From the subway station, she walked a block east and made a left down Bowery into Manhattan Chinatown proper. Everyone moved in a rush, the motion of vehicles and pedestrians an odd dance.
Five years, she thought to herself.
Still, the map of lower Manhattan imprinted in the back of her mind proved accurate. Putting Confucius Center at her back, she moved along Baynard Street toward Columbus Park.
Casting eyes over her shoulder, she wound her way around the blocks, checking for pursuit. Unable to detect a shadow, Raina finally reached her destination.
Kowloon Grocery sat in the middle of the block. Other shopfronts crowded the store, bright awnings in golds and reds dominating. From an alley, the smell of fishy garbage drifted on a chill, damp breeze, mingling with the pungent diesel exhaust from an idling truck and the scent of frying meat. It brought back memories, and even more so, brought home the fact that she was back in New York.
The old tenement rose seven stories above the street-level shops wearing a fire escape like a green exoskeleton. Derek had found an apartment for her above the grocery.
Derek.
Some time ago, the two had dated. Raina couldn’t take it seriously. Derek Wing came off as a Glow-Getter, a human attracted to the Light Fae. When Raina constantly found Derek flirting with others of her race, she figured him for a groupie and ended the relationship. The two still remained friends, and it was Derek Raina reached out to when she needed help. While she didn’t feel a romantic inclination toward him, he was one of the few humans she fully trusted. She’d known him most of her life.
Steeling herself, she walked past the fruit and vegetable carts flanking the front door and into the busy market. Various foul items hung just inside next to murky tanks filled with flopping sea life. Produce boxes lined the shelves and floor space making the narrow aisles claustrophobic. Jars of unidentifiable matter gave off an astringent odor. Part of the store was dedicated to import gifts: dolls in traditional Chinese dress, flimsy slippers, incense and candles, ubiquitous Statues of Liberty and Empire State Buildings, and racks of souvenir T-shirts. All of the store was packed, and Raina had to elbow her way toward the line at the checkout by the prepared food counter.
Lee Wing stood at the register, shouting out commands in Cantonese. His eyes roved over her several times, not pausing. Raina’s family had been friends with the Wings for decades. He had been part of a delegation, one of the first human groups to reach out to the Fae. She always imagined Lee Wing was some kind of wealthy businessman or envoy to the U.S. It was strange to see him running a grocery store in Manhattan Chinatown.
“Help you?” he asked in slightly accented English.
“Lee,” she said.
“Yes?” He drew the word out.
Raina remembered her huge sunglasses and removed them. “It’s me. Raina.”
“Ai ya,” he said under his breath, features going round. Then he came around the counter and grabbed her in a tight hug. “Derek said he had a visitor coming, but he didn’t say it was you!”
Although she couldn’t breathe in the tight embrace, she felt a wave of emotion overtaking her. For the first time since setting foot on the train, Raina finally felt she had a friend in the world.
“Come, let’s go back in the office, where we can sit and talk.” Lee took her hand and led her to a short staircase at the rear of the store. He barked orders in Cantonese, and a harried woman took his place at the register. In the line, a dozen older Chinese ladies huffed like dragons in indignation.
Bookkeeping threatened to swallow the office, and Lee moved a stack of invoices from a chair, and then from the table in front of it. Family photos stood haphazardly on the makeshift desk, threatened to be swamped by reams of forms and receipts. Peeking out from piles of legers on a shelf, a television teased the news. Raina was shocked to see frames of cell phone footage of the attack on the portal. The legend, Fifth Anniversary of the Portal Attack scrolled along the bottom.
When Lee Wing caught her expression, he hastily dug a remote from a pile of paperwork and turned the TV off.
“Of course, I should have known you were the visitor.” Lee’s features sagged. “Five years already.”
A deep empty well opened in her heart. She couldn’t find any words.
Lee sat across from her taking her hands. “It’s a tragedy what happened. I miss your people, your parents. H
ave you…?”
She pulled away. Raina could only shake her head. She hadn’t been in contact with the Fae on the other side of the portal. Didn’t know if they were in danger, or perhaps even dead. Now, with the magic gone from the glyph on her arm, she came to find out. If she could. If she could even bear it.
The dark moment of despair was shattered as Derek Wing burst into the office.
“Raina!” he shouted, and scooped her out of the chair in a suffocating hug.
He gave her a kiss on the cheek and held her at arm’s length. “Wow, I really like your new look. Kinda Goth military.”
Derek remained, as her human friends described him, ridonkulously cute. His hair was shaved close on the sides and spiked up on top. He wore a rough silk jacket over a T-shirt and jeans. While he was broad shouldered, and a head taller than his father, Lee gave him a back-hand slap to the shoulder.
“Where are your manners?” Lee said in Cantonese. “This girl has been on a long journey. It’s cold outside. Get her some soup and some tea.” The older man ended his sentence with an exasperated huff.
“Sorry, Pop, sorry!” He gave his father an apologetic look. But before he walked out the door, he gave Raina a lopsided smile that brought out his deep dimples.
Her eyes remained on the door after Derek disappeared. That mischievous look had stirred a few embers deep inside her, heat she thought had died when the portal fell. Perhaps it was simply the solitary life she’d led since. Even this smallest of connections, the resurfacing of memories, felt more pronounced than they might otherwise.
