Hidden by Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 3)

by WB McKay

  "Is swift and sudden death how MOD typically handles these situations?"

  "You're not technically an agent," I told him. "Those rules don't apply to you."

  "The rules against murder?"

  "I don't know, I'd have to check. You know, you're awfully concerned about discussing rules while we're under actual attack."

  "That's interesting, isn't it? I must be getting used to this."

  "Probably a bad thing," I pointed out.

  He grunted and tossed a fireball back in the direction we'd last seen movement from.

  If he was going to stay human, we'd have to stick together. Of course, if he'd shift, we'd be less vulnerable, but I'd already wasted enough time talking with him and knew it would be a long argument. It was difficult to debate the issue when I didn't truly understand his reasons. When we'd been attacked in Faerie, he'd stayed in his human form to fight even when we'd been fighting for our lives. He'd only willingly shifted for a fight when his sister was on the line.

  "There are the two in the door of this building, one in each of those windows across the way, and at least two at various points in both directions. I haven't seen anything coming from the alley closest to us. Have you?"

  "No." Owen was extinguishing the fireballs coming at us while they were still midair. Owen, as a fae, possessed innate magic that allowed him to create or quench flames whenever he wished. Witches, being human, had learned how to manipulate the magic they found in the world around them. This wore on their bodies, but as I understood it, they did it for the glory of experiencing magic. Clarissa had been a fan of fire manipulation and carried a lighter around with her. Once she had that small flame, she could manipulate magic to make it bigger, move wind, and send it flying at me. It was a popular skill for witches. It didn't do much against dragons though. I was more concerned about the ones using wind to throw things at us, like the front door of the elves' apartment building.

  "If we make a run for the alley, and no one happens to be there, we can either navigate to better ground or fight from there if we have to. Anything's better than where we are."

  "And if someone is in the alley?"

  "We fight them first."

  "With all these witches out here still attacking us."

  "That's the plan. Unless you have another suggestion."

  "Nope, just checking."

  "Okay. Be ready." I raised my head for a peek, drawing an attack in the form of a great big rock and a vase still full of flowers. "Go, now!" Owen took off and I followed, barely avoiding the objects when they smashed into the building where I'd been.

  The ground began to move under our feet.

  "Do you feel that?" he asked.

  "Just keep going!" The sidewalk rolled beneath us. I had the strong urge to stop and hold onto something, which might have been exactly what they wanted. I was pitched to the side a few times, but stayed mostly upright.

  We turned into the alley, and my shoe caught on the unmoving pavement. I flew forward and landed hard on my face. When I looked up, Owen was crouched in front of me, hands up.

  "We don't have to fight," he said.

  "What?" I asked, and looked up to see he wasn't talking to me. The witch in the alley was almost six feet tall, but young. I put her at eighteen, tops. She looked shocked to see us.

  "He's right," I said. "Walk out the back way. They won't see you go. We won't hurt you. Just, go. You'll be okay." She looked unsure. "He's a dragon," I told her. "An actual, fire breathing dragon. We don't have time for this. You don't want to take on the both of us alone." She edged backward, her wide eyes locked on Owen. He turned away from her, narrowing his eyes at me. Let him be annoyed. "Run!" I told her, and she did.

  The entrance to the alley we'd come in through was still clear. They hadn't come for us yet. I wasn't sure why that was, but I didn't trust it to last. "We have to keep the best eye on the apartment we can." The witches were in the building. I didn't believe they could make it through the booby traps, but it would be bad if I was wrong. "Let's go for the roof." I undid my shorts. "Can you carry my clothes?" I always tried to do it myself, but sometimes I lost my denim shorts, which held my phone. This wasn't the time to risk it.

  "No." He turned away to give me privacy. "Stop taking your clothes off. You jump on my back and I'll take us up, okay?"

  We didn't have time for me to ask why, so I agreed.

  He lit up the alley as he shifted, and my head swung back and forth, expecting an attack any moment. Were they in the apartment building, working the booby traps? The suspense was killing me.

  Witches shouldn't have been able to break the traps, but witches shouldn't have been able to do a lot of things I'd seen Clarissa manage. She'd discovered a long-forgotten fae practice of creating glyphs that could perform remarkable magic. As witches were prone to do, she twisted the magic so it would work for witches. She was now safely locked away in prison without communication privileges, so the secret should have been safe, but I didn't underestimate witches anymore.

  Owen crouched down. I'd seen his sister hop on his back weeks ago, so I knew to aim for his upper back, above his wings. That hadn't prepared me for how smooth his scales were or how hard it was to hold on. I gripped him tight with my thighs and said, "Let's go!", expecting his wings to catch air.

  Instead, his claws grabbed the side of the building, and I realized why he'd told me to jump on. He couldn't carry my clothes because his claws were already full. The alley was too small to stretch his wings. This must have been how he'd gotten up to look into the elves' apartment; in fact, I could see the gashes in the old brick where he'd climbed up previously.

  Before I knew what was happening, he'd pushed off the structure and tossed us five feet higher up in the air. I wrapped both of my arms around his neck, dug my feet hard into his sides, and yet still I felt myself slipping.

  I should have asked why. I should have risked carrying my clothes myself. Bad. Bad. Bad.

  He continued scaling the building this way--jumping us five feet up, grabbing the building, kicking off, and then grabbing for it again--and each and every time I thought I was going to lose my hold. If I had to shift midair I wouldn't just lose my clothes, I'd wind up tangled in my shirt and bra and fighting to get free while I fell to the alley. All while hoping witches didn't attack.

  I dug my nails into Owen's neck and jolted with surprise when we landed on the roof. I was still fine. I jumped onto the flat surface and shook out my limbs. "That was alarming."

  The alley was still empty. As I neared the front corner of the building I stooped down so the short wall at the building's edge would cover most of me. When I peeked over, I could see clearly into the windows across the street where the witches had been attacking us before. The windows stood open, but no one was inside. Fresh cracks riddled the pavement. The door that had flown at us in the beginning lay still. It was hard to tell from my vantage point, but I thought Owen's car had a few scratches.

  I got on my phone and called FAB, informing them of the witches on the road. The task force for the traps hadn't arrived yet and I wanted them informed of the situation immediately. Backup needed to arrive before them. The woman I spoke to sounded alert enough that I had to believe she would get it taken care of.

  "Owen." He'd shifted back and was walking toward me. "Stay here. Don't get close to the edge. I'm going to do surveillance. Backup is on its way." I kicked off my shoes.

  "If backup is coming why can't you stay with me?"

  I slid off my shorts, but he was too intent on arguing to be embarrassed this time. "I've gotta find them and figure out what they're doing." I pulled my bra off under my shirt. "I mean it. Stay away from the edge." I tugged off my shirt, shifted, and flew down the front of the building. The first thing I did was swoop inside and up the stairwell. The witches' magic was heavy in the doorway, but nonexistent past the first floor. The apartment door remained the same. No one was around.

  The street outside was more of the same eerie silence.
/>
  The alley was not. The eighteen-year-old girl I'd told to run was back, this time with a crew of five.

  "She said he was a dragon," the girl kept saying.

  "Sure he was," the older guy said.

  "You can't know," an older woman argued.

  He scoffed.

  They ignored me, because I was a crow and they were humans doubtful about running into a dragon. The group progressed up the alley, searching every nook and cranny for us.

  I flew back up to the roof and shifted. Owen was glowering at me from its center, not at all happy to be doing what he was told.

  "I can't stand around like this feeling useless." He began to pace, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  "You could sit instead." He stopped pacing to look at me with disgust. "The girl brought a group of five into the alley. We'll keep an eye on them, but the others are gone."

  "That's good, right?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know what's going on." The wider implications of that slammed through me. There wasn't time to think about it while they were still attacking, but why were witches attacking us? In Volarus? Witches couldn't cross the border without the help of a fae. The city was glamoured so it didn't appear to human eyes. And why were they at the elves' apartment, specifically? Did this have something to do with the case I was working, or was this an unrelated event? I didn't usually believe in coincidences, but it made no sense for elves, known for being the heart of fae snob society, to be in league with witches. Witches were so far down the society ladder that most fae didn't include them at all. Clarissa's resentment over the way the fae treated her had been a source of fuel for the wrongs she'd committed.

  I'd gotten my clothes on and hadn't yet bothered with my shoes when I jogged over to the side to get a look at the witches in the alley below. Their return made me think they weren't giving up on us yet. Before I reached the edge, I was dodging a ball of fire aimed squarely at my chest. I hit the roof hard, scraping more skin off my arms. I guess I should have been more worried about the fire thing after all. "Get down!" I yelled at Owen. He had other ideas. With a dragon's roar, he ran toward the edge of the roof, leaping before he got there and shifting in the air.

  He flew toward the roof across the street and spit a wave of flames where the fireball had originated. The screams echoing through the air removed any doubt about whether they'd fled.

  I supposed I didn't have to worry about sticking to Owen's side anymore.

  The witches in the alley below stared back up at me. I waved hello. They ducked, like that made any sense when I was above them. Two witches on the roof across the alley stuck up their heads. Hopefully it was only the two of them.

  I undressed again. What I wouldn't give to be able to bring my clothes with me when I shifted. On the upside, a naked woman with swords freaked some people out, and these witches looked exactly like the types to be disturbed by such a thing. I shifted, flew across the alley, and shifted back without any of them attacking. When I arrived, I saw why. It was only the two of them, a man and a woman in their twenties, and the man continued flicking the lighter in his hand to no result. They'd panicked without a way to toss flames at me. I unsheathed both Epic and Haiku and twirled them with my wrists in an embarrassingly showy manner, but it worked. Their eyes looked about to bulge from their heads.

  I cut to the chase. "Why are you attacking?"

  The woman put her hand over the man's mouth and shook her head. He looked at me and back at her and then nodded.

  "Would you like to spend the rest of your lives in bird cages?" I asked. The woman was stoic. The man wasn't sure if he should be staring at me or her. "Why did you attack us?" I twirled Epic and placed the sword's tip less than an inch from the man's chest. "She can't save you, you know. I have no reason to hurt you. I didn't before, either. All I want to know is why you're attacking." He shook with fright. I thought he'd be tempted to talk with the threat a little more clear, but the more I watched him shake, the more I thought he was too afraid to tell me anything. I was tempted to try my wail on them--a little pain could be persuasive--or my fear aura, which might soften up the woman, but both would affect Owen as well, not to mention the innocents huddled in the buildings below. Innocent bystanders were such an irritating city problem. I looked the woman in the eye. "You attacked me. You don't think I have the right to know why?"

  Nothing, but they weren't fighting anymore, either. This could all be handled back at MOD. "Fine. You're both under arrest." This always worked better when I had the restraints to cuff them with, but they were hooked on my shorts on the opposite building. I pointed a sword at each of them and tilted my head toward the stairs they'd climbed up. "Down we go."

  They didn't put up any fight. How were a couple of humans, so clearly in over their heads, in Volarus? I hoped I'd get the chance to be in on questioning them back at the office. The curiosity was eating at me.

  Owen flew in my direction, but abruptly turned so he was flying over the alley. Screams followed, and he looked my way, rumbling with the odd laughter of his dragon form. His wings were too large to fit between the buildings, but the humans below didn't realize that. Their cries traveled up the alley. Owen lazily followed above.

  The humans and I reached the stairs, but they were dragging their feet. Getting an eye full of the dragon, no doubt. I didn't rush them along because I figured it would be good for them to see what they were up against. When we got to the top of the stairs, I urged them to get moving. The guy was looking forward and shaking his head.

  "Hey, they're just stairs," I told him, trying to put him at ease. "You're under arrest. As long as you don't try anything funny, you're safe with me. Let's go."

  The guy whimpered.

  "Seriously, you're fine." I was still saying the words when the woman grabbed his arm and threw him off the roof. I reached for her, grabbing the back of her shirt, but my hold wasn't enough to stop her from going over the edge. "What are you--?" But I didn't finish the sentence, because I saw. She used the wind to slow their descent, and they fell on a pile of garbage a hobgoblin had been arranging. They rolled to their feet and took off at a run, further damaging the hobgoblin's work.

  Hobgoblins were helpful people, with a unique sense of what was most helpful. A lot of fae didn't appreciate them, especially when they were doing things like piling up garbage in the street, but their heart was usually in the right place. Of course, it was easier to feel that way about them when they weren't involved in a case. The trick was convincing them the most good they could do was to help me retrieve the item, and that got complicated with their unique ideas about what was truly for the best.

  The hobgoblin ran after the witches, screeching without words.

  I sheathed both my swords and shifted. By the time I crossed the street and entered the alley they'd ducked down I was already caught up. They turned at every opportunity, twisting through narrow alleys. They leapt over another pile of garbage arranged by a hobgoblin--this one comprised of yard waste, so it looked somewhat pretty with the artfully arranged branches--and almost lost the first hobgoblin when he stopped to speak with the one arranging the yard waste. That was, until they tried to leap over a stack of bottles that sent them sprawling. I dived, seeing an opportunity to land and arrest the witches, but they recovered and went on running, now with three hobgoblins following them. There was no point in landing until they cornered themselves. I regained some of my height and stayed trained right above them.

  The witches turned onto a wider, busier street. Several passerby spared disapproving looks at the fleeing humans, but shrieked when the hobgoblins ran too close. The small group of hobgoblins jerked away, barely missing a car zooming down the road.

  We turned a corner and came to a street meant for pedestrians. Tall grass, flowers, and trees lined the street. The trees were currently being pruned; tall piles of branches sat waiting to be collected.

  The witches were downright gleeful as they used magic to fling the first branch at me. I do
dged it, but just barely. I pumped my wings to get a little more air, putting me above most of the buildings, and then rode a breeze, swaying back and forth so I'd make a more difficult target.

  That was a mistake.

  I wasn't prepared for it when the woman hit me with a blast of air. Already flipped on my back and losing height, I fought to right myself when she hit me again from a new angle. I hit a wind. I'd lost my bearing. She continued to pin me against the brick with the wind. My throat clenched as I wheezed for my next breath and scrabbled for a hold. I was slowly sliding down the building's side, though I couldn't push away. The wind broke off halfway down. I pushed off as hard as I could but she hit me anew, successfully knocking the back of my head into the hard surface. This time when she let me go she didn't need to renew her efforts. I was disoriented enough that I had no hope of catching myself before I hit the ground.

  I let myself stay still and used the moment to appreciate the air going in and out of my own lungs. I was alive. That was something worth appreciating before I let myself complain about the pain I was in. And pain there was.

  Without warning, multiple sets of hands lifted me off the ground, cooing at me like a baby. "I think it's okay," said one hobgoblin.

  "She hurt her feathers, said another.

  "Feathers are like hair. She can live with broken feathers. Here, let go."

  The others took their hands off me leaving me in the hands of the one. I should have been struggling to get free, but struggling hurt too much. The hobgoblin flipped me over front to back, top to bottom, and all around against. "Her bones are okay," they announced. "Do you think we should take her for help?"

  "Put her down first and see what she does," said another.

  I voted for that plan, and luckily they listened. I got to my feet and carefully stretched out my wings. Miraculously, nothing felt broken. A few twinges here and there, sure, but I was able to hop and flap about, so I was going to be okay. The same couldn't be said for the bed of tulips I'd crumpled, or the feathers torn from my body. I'd gotten off easy, considering.