by Mary Karlik
Buzzard caught up with Layla. “You want to tell a man who has no idea that magic exists that his brother has been transformed into a dragon while fighting to save fairies? And how do you think that will go over?”
She bit back. “To be clear, Ian’s a shifter not a dragon. There is a difference. We have to tell Andrew about the fairies anyway.”
Theo pulled the van door open. “I agree. More than likely he’ll find out the dragon bit eventually.”
Buzzard let out a long sigh. “I suppose it would be too simple to say he was missing in action.”
When the van came to a full stop, anxiety ripped through Layla. It was one thing to bravely insist on telling Ian’s brother the truth, but now that they were parked near his flat, her stomach was a mess of knots. She didn’t know Andrew. And could anybody really guess how a man without magic knowledge would react to discovering that his brother was a dragon-shifter?
Buzzard called from the front seat. “We’re here. Layla, did you get that scepter taken care of?”
“Aye. It’s wrapped in the blanket and warded. If anybody finds it, they won’t be able to take it from the van until the ward is lifted.”
“Good. Then let’s go. Mind you hide your wings until we’re inside.”
As the group filed out of the van to the tiny flat, Layla kept her wings wrapped around her shoulders. Buzzard led the group up the steps to the second floor and banged on the door until it was jerked open.
The red-faced man who stood in the doorway was a younger version of Ian. Only instead of dark hair that hung to the middle of his back, this man had dark ginger hair that hung to his collar and a neatly trimmed beard.
Andrew looked from Buzzard to Theo to Layla, and his face drained of color. His muscles bunched his shoulders into an almost stooped position. He knew it was bad. Before anybody spoke, he knew it was bad. “Where’s Ian?”
Buzzard stood in the center of the doorway. “Can we come in?”
Andrew backed away and allowed the group to enter.
His flat wasn’t much different than Ian’s. The kitchen was smaller, and instead of sleekly designed furniture, Andrew’s lounge contained a tattered chintz armchair that clashed horribly with a threadbare striped couch and worn leather recliner. The coffee table was centered in front of the couch and covered with books.
Once everyone was inside, Andrew turned toward the kitchen. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
Theo moved ahead of him. “I’ll do it.”
“Okay.” Andrew’s eyes were so wide the whites were visible around the dark blue iris. He folded his arms and unfolded them. “If you’re all here and Ian is not, this is bad news. You might as well get on with it.”
Buzzard sat on the couch. “Have a seat, Andrew.”
“I’d rather stand. Thank you.” But he sat in the chintz chair anyway. “Is he dead?” His voice was sandpaper dry.
Layla answered. “No. I guarantee he’s alive.”
He snapped his gaze to her. “And who are you?”
“This is Layla,” Buzzard said. “A new member of the team.”
Andrew looked at the faces before him. “If Ian’s alive but you’re here without him, then I assume he’s either injured or missing.”
Buzzard took a deep breath and shifted his eyes to Layla as he exhaled. “Aye. He’s missing, but it’s complicated.”
Andrew followed Buzzard’s gaze. “What does that mean?”
Buzzard nodded, and Layla opened her wings wide.
Andrew jumped from his seat and backed away. “What the … what kind of sick joke is this?”
Theo answered from behind the counter. “She’s real. The fairy is real.”
Andrew kept his eyes trained on Layla and moved behind the chair. “So you’re telling me Ian has been kidnapped by fairies?”
“Erm. It’s a bit more complicated than that.” Buzzard pulled a flask from his coat pocket and held it out. “You might want something a little more than tea for this explanation.”
Andrew brushed the offer away, made his way back to the chair, and sat on the edge. “How does it get more complicated than … fairies? Just who has Ian?”
Layla folded her wings and sat on the couch next to Buzzard. “Ian was fighting a dragon when he was sucked into the magic realm.”
Buzzard held the flask out again.
Andrew took it and swigged from the bottle and sat it on the coffee table. “My brother fought a dragon. I assume you’re not talking about a gang member, and you don't mean it metaphorically.”
Buzzard leaned forward with his forearms on his knees. “I know it sounds crazy. I didn’t want to believe in fairies and magic either. The whole thing gives me the creeps. But Layla is proof that fairies and magic exist.”
Andrew looked around the room. “This is a trick. Ian is punking me…”
His words were cut short as Layla fairy-sized. “It’s no trick. And I have magic.” She human-sized then used her magic to lift the flask from the coffee table and send it to Andrew.
He drank from it again and sat it back down.
Buzzard nodded. “Maybe we should start from the beginning.”
He told Andrew about the investigation into Connor Davis and explained that the dolls they’d thought he was using to traffic drugs were really fairies and that Connor Davis was stealing their magic.
Andrew sat in the chair grasping the arms with each hand. “So the police are investigating this Connor Davis, but he doesn’t have Ian. How will you explain that?”
Theo brought tea from the kitchen. “Connor Davis was magic, too. He was a dragon called Fauth. He’s dead now.”
Andrew’s face paled, but he didn’t make a sound, didn’t flinch until Layla jumped in with her part of the story.
“We had rescued the fairies, but Buzzard, Ian, and I were trapped by a dragon. The dragon went after Buzzard, and as she turned, her tail caught Ian’s arm. The end of the tail is a spike covered with poison. It was a nasty gash. Jack removed as much poison as he could, but some made its way into your brother’s blood.”
“And what does that mean?” Layla heard the fear in Andrew’s voice and saw panic in his eyes.
This was the part of the story Layla didn’t want to tell. “The dragon-spirit is in Ian fighting for control.”
“And?”
Her wings fluttered behind her, reflecting the churning she felt in her belly. “And he can shift to dragon form.”
Andrew didn’t say anything. He just stared into nothing. Layla could almost see the information clicking into place in his mind.
When it did, he grabbed the flask from the table. “You’re telling me that my brother can turn into a dragon and fly about the neighborhood.” He sipped from the bottle and stood. “I’m talking to a fairy who claims my brother is a wee dragon. It’s not possible.” He walked to the kitchen and back the lounge. Layla couldn’t help but notice how similar his gestures were to his brother’s, and that made her heart squeeze. Oh Ian, I promise I will get you back.
Buzzard tracked Andrew’s movements. “Unfortunately, it is possible. It’s true. After we rescued the fairies and dealt with Connor Davis, we thought it was over. But it wasn’t. A dragon appeared in the sky. Your brother went after it.”
Andrew squeezed his eyes shut for a breath. “Of course he would. And then…?”
Layla bounced her gaze from Buzzard to Jack to Andrew. “Then a hole opened between our worlds, and it took them. It was as if they were pulled through the eye of a needle.”
Andrew glared at Layla. “Why didn’t you go after him? You’re a fairy. You’re supposed to have magic.”
Layla opened her mouth, but she couldn’t answer him. How could she tell him she’d been frozen with fear? That she may have killed Fauth, but she failed to save Ian?
Andrew rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you sure he’s in your world?”
“Aye,” Layla said.
Andrew’s eyes widened. “And he’s a dragon?”
“M
aybe. Maybe not. He can shift at will.”
“How much more bizarre can this get?” His voice had raised at least an octave. “You said you knew he was alive. Can you guarantee it? If he’s in this other world and you are here, you wouldn’t know.”
Layla worried her hands. “We do know. I know. When I healed him from the dragon poison, I had to connect my soul with his. A piece of my soul is still with him. I sense his pain, and … when he dies, so will I.”
“I see.” Andrew dropped back onto the chintz chair. “And how are the police explaining all this?”
Buzzard rubbed his palms together. “The official explanation is that he was taken by Connor Davis’s people.”
Theo poured tea in the cups and set one in front of Andrew.
Andrew’s hands shook as he poured milk into his cup. “Dragons, fairies, magic—how am I going to explain all of this to my sister? I’ll no do it over the phone.” He looked at Buzzard. “Skye is fair drive, but it would help if the fairy could come.”
Buzzard nodded. “About that … we’d actually all like to come.”
Andrew stirred his tea in slow motion. “All? Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but what are you not telling me?”
Theo answered. “The metals in the city are making the fairies ill.”
Andrew focused on his tea. “Fairies. The ones you rescued?”
“Aye. We have to get them away.” Theo handed a cup to Layla and Buzzard.
“You want me to take the fairies to my sister’s.” Andrew had the same are-you-mental tone that Buzzard had used.
“Aye,” Buzzard answered.
Andrew nodded. “And what about Ian?”
Layla turned toward Andrew, but he kept his gaze focused on the coffee table as if looking at her was too difficult. “I can’t open the hole between our worlds where Ian was taken, but I came here through a portal in the city. If I can find it and can open it, then we can go after him. First, I have to find safety for the fairies. They’ll die here in the city.”
Andrew shook his head. “There’s no way Amelia is going to let the fairies stay at the croft. But I’ll help you find a place for them.”
Buzzard nodded once. “Fair enough.”
Andrew glared at Layla, and as he spoke, he jabbed the coffee table with his index finger. “Then you do whatever you need to do to bring my brother home.”
“I promise.” She sounded weak, almost breathy, and that made her angry. Because she’d meant those words. If she had to fight every dragon in her world, she’d get him back.
Chapter Five
A high-pitched tinging assaulted Ian’s dragon hearing as a silver plate twirled on the stone floor like a top. The noise was bloody painful, but it kept the dragon from attacking the dozen or so elves that surrounded him with swords drawn.
If he were in human form, Ian would have taken a fighter’s stance. He would have used the adrenaline-driven pulse raging through him to prepare his muscles for battle. He would have sucked in measured breaths to give his cells a steady flow of oxygen. But he was in freaking dragon form, and the last thing he wanted was to take a battle stance, or ready muscles for a fight, or breathe fire-fueling oxygen.
Control over the dragon-spirit was slipping, and he had to get it back. He had to shift into his human form before the dragon massacred these men. He made a mental visit to St. George. But the dragon was strong and fought the image. He couldn’t shift—not yet.
But if he could keep the men from enraging the dragon, it might buy him enough time to build his strength until he could shift.
Determined to show the men that the dragon wouldn’t harm them, he wrapped his tail around his hind legs and slowly backed away. As he moved, the viridian ridges of his back made a fingers-on-chalkboard sound as they scraped against the ceiling. The elves cringed, but they didn’t advance.
When Ian reached the back wall, he dropped close to the ground.
“The dragon’s a coward.” One of the elves lunged his blade at him and laughed.
Ian didn’t care what they thought of him as long as nobody got hurt.
The dragon-spirit didn’t like the threat and let out a roar and spit flames. Ian managed to aim the fire at the ceiling, and the men backed away.
He kept his dragon body low and clamped his mouth shut. Smoke curled from his nostrils and hung in the air, but it was better than fire from his mouth.
The lass who’d first seen him peeked around one of the elf men with curious eyes. Ian winked at her and smiled as much as he could with a snout for a mouth.
The lass smiled back, and he winked again.
He shouldn’t have winked at her. He should have let the dragon scare her away. But he didn’t. He wanted to show the elves that he was friendly. He never expected that little blue-eyed lass to run to him and lock her arms around his throat as if his life depended on her.
The elves let out a roar of rustling leaves and clamored for her. But she held on and laid her cheek against his skin.
Ian spread his legs wide, flattened himself against the floor, and released a long, gravelly sigh.
The girl spoke in the leaf language, and the men yelled at her, but she shook her head and clung on.
Ian let out a kind of purr and with his front arms tried to nudge her away, but she wasn’t budging. Big tears plopped onto his scales, and she rubbed her face into his hide. The dragon-spirit calmed.
He took advantage of the moment, collected his strength, and managed to shift to his human form. As soon as the transformation was complete, one of the elf men grabbed the lass and took her from the room. The rest of the elves surrounded him with their swords.
“You’re lucky you didn’t harm her or you’d be nothing more than a smear on the floor.” The low, menacing tone came from the elf who’d laughed at him.
Ian remained on the floor and held his hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t have harmed her. The drink made me weak. It gave the dragon power. Believe me, I mean no harm.”
The elf pressed his sword tip against the notch in Ian’s throat. “And what was the fire display?”
“Stand down.” The order came from the back of the pack of elves. The men lowered the tips of their swords and made way for the elf who’d given the order to pass between them.
An Elvin woman with skin so pale it was almost blue stood in front of the closed door. A single plait of white-streaked ginger hair hung over one shoulder and down to her waist. Unlike the men clad in kilts, she wore a tunic, breeches, and tall boots. A silver scabbard hung from her belt, and the hilt of a sgian dubh peeked from her left boot.
With her head held regal-high, she took confident steps toward Ian. The men dropped their gazes to the ground as she passed. There was no doubt she was their leader.
When she stopped in front of Ian, he noticed that her bright blue eyes matched those of the lass, and he wondered if they were related.
She smiled and faint crinkles formed around her eyes and lips, softening her appearance. “Can we trust that you now control the dragon?”
“Aye. It was the drink that gave it power over me.” Aware that he was naked, he hugged his knees close to his torso. “I gather you are the commander. I need to talk to you and Finn.”
The woman spoke her leaf language to the others. They nodded and left her alone with Ian. She jerked the blanket from the cot and tossed it at him. “I’ve sent for him. Meanwhile, I have questions.”
Ian covered himself with the blanket and sat on the edge of the cot. “What do you want to know?”
“How is it that a human made his way into this world?”
“By accident, I assure you.” He wrapped the blanket tighter over his shoulders. “I was battling a red dragon when a hole opened between the human realm and this one. We were pulled through.”
“The worlds have been sealed for years.”
“Everybody keeps saying that, but obviously there are breaches in the portals.”
The woman righted the chair that had been kn
ocked over when Ian was in dragon form and sat. “I have heard reports of the human world appearing in ours. But the veil between them seems to be intact. If what you claim is true and the portals have been opened without a gatekeeper, it will be dangerous for both worlds.”
“Fauth managed to open a portal and used it to kidnap fairies.”
Finn entered with a tray of food and a plaid folded over his forearm. “Ma’am.” He bowed and set the tray on the table. His gaze locked on the shreds of fabric that were scattered across the floor. “Human men wear kilts, no?”
“Generally, in my world, men no longer fold themselves into a kilt, but I have seen it done—even tried it once.”
“Perhaps a kilt would make the transitions easier than shredding your clothes.” He tossed the plaid at Ian.
Ian caught the fabric and set it on the cot next to him. “It’s a brilliant solution. Thank you.”
The commander swept her arm toward the table. “Please eat while we talk.”
Ian took bread and cheese from the tray.
Finn snagged an apple. “Don’t you have magic? A conjured appearance of clothes would be easier.”
“Unfortunately, not. Layla managed a glamour for me.”
“Layla? She doesn’t have magic.” Finn’s tone was full of doubt, but his eyes wanted to believe.
“She does. It seems the protection bracelet she wore kept it from her. She lost the bracelet before she crossed to the human world.”
Finn sat on the edge of the cot next to Ian. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would anybody want to keep her magic from her?”
“She wondered the same thing when she found her power. But it seems she doesn’t just have magic. She’s a harvester.”
“A harvester?” The commander leaned forward. “Your fairy is a harvester?”
“How could that be? There’s not an evil spark in her.” Finn’s shoulders sagged, and he bent over at the waist like the news had been a physical blow to the gut.
“Aye,” Ian said. “I agree. It was only because the Dark Harvester went after her magic that she discovered her true power. She survived because she took his. Otherwise, I don't think she could have killed the harvester much less Fauth.”
