by Mary Karlik
Andrew nodded. “Aye. There are places they can shelter. My sister needn’t know.”
Buzzard glanced at Andrew. “And you think she won’t find out?”
Andrew fired back. “No. But this is a lot to throw at her at once.”
A fairy named Shona flew from the back of the boot to Layla. “Something’s not right. Some of the fairies seem to be getting sicker. It’s odd.”
“What do you mean odd?”
The fairy led Layla to the back and knelt next to her man. “He’s getting weaker. This is not from the iron.” She turned over the palm of his hand. Spindly purple lines spidered from a dark purple spot centered in his palm.
Layla’s breath caught in her throat. “What caused this?”
Shona stroked her man’s face. “I don’t know, but it’s contagious. Poor Iona was the first to be infected.” She tipped her chin toward the fairy curled in the corner.
Layla flew above the seat. “Jack, is this a human disease?”
He unbuckled and wrenched himself between the front seats and leaned into the back to inspect the fairies. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“How far are we from our stop?” Her voice was frantic. “I think it has something to do with the car.”
Andrew spoke from the front. “Less than ten minutes.”
Jack crawled back to his seat. “I don’t know how the car could cause it.”
Buzzard accelerated. “Just in case, I’ll get us there as fast as I can.”
“No,” Layla yelled from the back. “Wait! When you sped up, they paled.”
The car slowed, and Layla saw the color improve in Iona’s face. “It has to be the car. What smell is it that these things emit?”
“Carbon monoxide,” Jack answered. “It’s a poison to humans in a confined area. It’s not contagious like a disease, but maybe it affects fairies differently.”
“That has to be it.” Layla flew around the cargo area. “The fey in the back are sicker. We need to get them fresh air and in touch with the earth as soon as we can.”
Andrew looked over the fairies. “We’re not far. We could open the windows and allow some fresh air in.”
Layla nodded. “We have to try something.”
Jack cracked his window open. “Only open them a wee bit. I don’t want to see fairies sucked out of the car.”
Even with all four windows slightly open, Layla didn’t see an improvement in the fairies’ conditions, but she didn’t see it worsen either.
When Buzzard turned off the road to a dirt track, Andrew pointed to a stone building on the left side of the road. “Let’s take them to the barn. There will be plenty of earth there.”
Buzzard stopped the car by the barn. Esme hovered next to Layla while they helped the fairies out of the boot. “I’ll see to them. Go with the humans. You’re needed there.”
“Aye.” Layla turned to Theo. “Can you help the ones who can’t fly?”
“Aye. I’ll be up as soon as these wee folk are settled.”
When the car was emptied, Buzzard drove the rest of the way to the house. The car had barely stopped when a woman stepped onto the porch. She wore coveralls and wellies. Dark hair peeked from under a knit cap. Beneath the blush of freckles scattered across her skin, her face was the color of a white fairy flax flower.
Deep worry lines creased her forehead as the men stepped from the car. She spoke to Andrew as he neared. “Is he dead?”
“No. Missing.” He hugged his sister, but her arms remained folded across her chest, and it was stiff and awkward.
When he released her, she went into the house without saying a word. Andrew motioned them in. Layla folded her wings over her shoulder and followed.
Andrew ushered them to the lounge. “I’ll expect she’s putting the kettle on. I’ll be just a minute.” He slipped through a doorway into the kitchen.
White walls, wooden beams holding up the ceiling, and a fireplace across from two huge windows that exposed a view of the front garden reminded Layla of the cottage she’d left behind. A golden, columbine-colored sofa was situated across from the telly. Adjacent to it were two bright red chairs. Next to the fireplace was a worn, floral chintz chair—a twin to the one in Andrew’s flat. Next to the chair was a small rectangle table and beneath it a basket full of books. A lap rug was folded over the back of the chair. The room was bright, warm, and welcoming.
Buzzard sat on the sofa and stared at the coffee table in front of him. “This could be a wee bit of a challenge.”
Jack stood next to the fireplace. “Amelia has been known to have a bit of a temper.”
Layla wrapped her arms around her waist and lowered herself onto the red chair closest to Buzzard. “Should I worry?”
Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Don’t get me wrong. She’s all heart. She just keeps it deep inside.”
“Encased in stone,” Buzzard added.
Layla was about to tell them to stop trying to scare her when Amelia’s raised voice blasted from the kitchen. “I don’t need to know the details. Just make sure they get him back.”
“It’s not that simple. Hear what they’ve come to say.” Andrew’s voice was coaxing with a slight edge to it.
“Ten minutes and then not another word. You can stay the night. First thing in the morning, you take them back to find my brother.”
“Aye. Just hear them out.” Andrew returned to the lounge carrying a tea tray. He set the tray on the coffee table and took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa from Buzzard.
Amelia followed her brother into the lounge, and Layla was sure she felt a cool breeze enter with her.
Amelia stood with her back to the fireplace adjacent to where Buzzard sat. She folded her arms across her chest and tipped her chin at Buzzard. “You have my attention. Now, what are you so anxious to tell me about my brother’s abduction?”
Buzzard leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands. Layla had seen Ian in the same pose and wondered if it was a police thing to take that position when delivering bad news. Buzzard cleared his throat and began. “It’s a very complicated situation.”
Amelia looked at the ceiling. “You’re specialist crime investigators. How could it not be complicated? Cavorting with the mafia. I knew this would happen.”
Buzzard narrowed his gaze at Amelia. “It’s not nearly as simple as mafia.” He blew out a long breath. “We’ve treaded in the world of magic.” He rapid-fired the words as if he said them fast enough, Amelia wouldn’t quite catch on.
For an instant Amelia’s face paled and then she burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s a good one. And is Ian hiding in the barn right now? I saw the car stop there. I know Theo is there.” She fired a threatening gaze at Buzzard. “Now let’s cut to the chase, and tell me what’s really going on.”
Buzzard looked at Layla and nodded.
She knew what he wanted but hesitated. She wasn’t sure the woman wasn’t a slight bit unhinged. But Layla had magic, and if need be, she could temporarily freeze Amelia. She sucked in a deep breath, opened her wings, and shifted fairy-size.
Amelia jumped sideways. “Holy hell. What was that?”
Layla human-sized and left her wings open. “Magic.”
Amelia’s eyes grew wide but instead of her face losing color or her hands trembling, she turned beet red. She knocked the heel of her hand against Andrew’s head. “You brought a fairy into my house. You know it’s a matter of time before the bad ones follow.”
Andrew turned in his seat to face his sister. “You’ve never believed. You used to call Nanna a nutter.”
Amelia’s eyes filled with tears, and she cupped her hands over her mouth and nose as she paced around the room. The entire time she kept her eyes trained on Layla. She crossed to the opposite side of the room and back to the chintz chair. She sat, then stood, then sat.
Buzzard handed her a flask.
Unlike her brother, she didn’t hesitate to take it. She drew a long
sip and handed it back. “Andrew, how much do you remember about finding Mum and Dad?”
Buzzard and Jack shifted uncomfortably in the room.
Amelia snapped her gaze to Jack and then Buzzard. “You deal with murder every day so don’t pretend to me that talking about my parents’ murder makes you weak.” To Andrew, she repeated, “How much do you remember?”
Andrew studied his hands. “You were the first in the shop. I didn’t see more than their legs and the blood. It was more than enough to know they were dead.”
Amelia’s face softened, and a shaky smile crossed her lips. “We never talked about it. Not really. We gave our statements. The police assumed it was a random robbery gone bad—that maybe the murderer was on drugs.” She scanned the room. “That’s not what happened. Why do you think the murderer was never caught?”
Buzzard gave her a sideways look. “Are you saying it was a fairy?”
Layla’s wings stiffened. “That’s impossible. Fairy’s are incapable of killing.” Her chest tightened at the thought of what she was and what she’d done. She relaxed her wings and lowered her gaze. “At least full-blood fairies are incapable.”
“Maybe. But the thing I saw was no human.” Amelia poured tea in the cups and passed them around as casually as if they were talking about the weather.
Layla shook her head. “No. Maybe a shape-shifter posing as fey, but there’s no full-blood fairy that murders. It’s not possible.”
Amelia sat back in the chair and sipped her tea. “It doesn’t really matter if it was a fairy, or a demon, or a goblin, or really what creature it was because it left us orphans. And I’m telling you, it came after Nanna welcomed a fairy into our home.”
Layla narrowed her eyes at Amelia. “Welcomed a fairy? The portal between our worlds was sealed fifteen years ago. Do you remember what she did to welcome the fairy?”
“Aye. I was playing in the garden shed when I heard her chants. I always figured something like that had to be done at night during a full moon or on the solstice. But it was none of those things. It was a sunny afternoon. There was nothing significant about the day, except my nanna’s spell.”
“How long ago was this?” A sick feeling gnawed at Layla’s gut. Could she have opened the portal before it was sealed? Or worse, after it was sealed?
“It was the twelfth of October. The day before my parents were murdered—fifteen years ago,” Andrew answered. He looked at Layla. “My parents owned a shop in the village. We lived above it. I saw from the window.”
Layla looked at the siblings. “Tell us everything you remember.”
Andrew spoke. “Nanna was obsessed with fairies. As Amelia said it was a normal day except for her chanting. She didn’t have a pentagram or candles, or salt, or any of the things the movies tell you should be there. She stood in the center of the garden with her arms outstretched, chanting. It was just a sweet old lady wishing to see a fairy.”
“And what happened?” Buzzard asked.
Amelia picked up the story. “Her wish was granted. A wee fairy appeared and fluttered away. Nanna was distraught until there was sort of a red flash and a man appeared. He said he was a red cap.”
Layla’s stomach tightened into a hard knot as the pieces begin to click into place. A red cap was the vilest of all magical creatures.
Amelia continued. “I was terrified, but Nanna giggled like a school girl. He asked her not to tell that he’d come through. She agreed of course, but I thought his request was more like a threat than anything.”
Jack fixed his tea and sat in the chair next to Layla. “Did either of you tell anyone what you saw?”
Amelia shook her head. “No. Not even my baby brother.” She narrowed her eyes at Andrew. “Who never thought to tell me either.”
“I told mum that night. I thought she’d laugh and tell me to quit making up stories, but she didn’t. In fact, it made her mad, and she said she was going to talk to Nanna straight away.” Andrew rubbed the back of his neck. The gesture was so like Ian’s that it made Layla catch her breath. “I think I caused their murder.”
Amelia whipped her head to look at her brother. “You did nothing of the sort. It was that thing.” She cut her eyes to Layla. “And you know what she unleashed, don’t you?”
Chapter Seven
Ian’s pulse raged as he raced after the dragon with no idea how to actually rescue Finn. He had two moves in his dragon-fighting arsenal and neither one of them were a good option. He couldn’t shoot fire at Red from behind without hitting Finn, and body-checking the dragon would probably only anger Red and injure Finn.
Finn had managed to keep hold of his sword and was wildly jabbing at the dragon’s leg just above the claw. Black blood dripped from the point of the assault and down Finn’s arm, but Red held tight. And it was a good thing too because if Red released Finn, Ian wasn’t sure he could dive fast enough to catch Finn, and there was no way the elf would survive a fall to the ground.
Ian had to do something, but what? If it had just been him against Red, he’d at least try something. But it wasn’t, and his ineptness was liable to get Finn killed. Hopelessly, helplessly, he followed Red. Frustration burned through him and erupted in a loud, long roar. He didn’t know if he’d said anything in dragon or simply screamed, but Red dropped its left wing and circled to face Ian.
Finn’s body swung as Red turned, and for a heart-stopping, gut-wrenching, breath-stealing second, Ian was sure the elf had been released. But when Red centered itself in front of Ian, the elf still struggled like a salmon in its talons.
The dragon-sprit flared in Ian. It was bad enough that he didn’t know how to fight Red. He didn’t need the spirit to complicate things. He had to keep a clear mind to control the dragon-spirit within. He had to hold steady even if his muscles fired a thousand signals that he should flee.
Red tilted its head up, and a bone-jarring, dragon-rousing shriek cracked across the sky. As the echoes faded, Red lowered its head until the black slits in the center of its yellow eyes zeroed in on the dragon-spirit inside Ian.
The spirit’s power surged.
Red roared again, this time exposing teeth that could rip apart an elf. Or a dragon.
Ian’s heart lodged so far up in his throat he couldn’t have shot fire if he wanted to.
Then Ian saw something that sparked an idea. Red seemed completely focused on Ian. Focused to the point that Ian wasn’t sure if Red was aware that it still held Finn in its right talon. If Ian could draw Red over water and get the thing to release Finn over the loch, the elf could survive the fall. Whether he could survive the cold water was another question, but it was the best chance he had.
Ian screeched and launched over the dragon and toward the loch. Red took the bait and shot after him. Once they were over open water, Ian stopped and faced the charging dragon. He beat his wings and stretched his feet in front of him in anticipation of the attack.
Red closed in, let out a blast of fire, and charged.
Ian ducked his head and collided with the beast beneath its right wing. The impact was enough to cause Red to unclench his talon and drop Finn into the loch.
Ian pulled away from Red and dove toward the splash point where the elf entered.
Red crashed into him a few meters above the water, knocking him backward. The attack angered the spirit inside Ian. Its power surged and took control. Ian shot straight up in the air until he stalled, then nosed over, and dove for Red.
It would have been easy to tuck his human side away and let the dragon-spirit have free-reign. The spirit was faster, knew dragon warfare, and stood a much better chance of defeating Red than Ian. But then what? What if Ian couldn’t get control back? Finn would probably die, and worse, there would be no protection for Layla. Ian had to defeat Red without the help of the spirit. No matter how difficult.
He used the adrenaline coursing through him to subdue the dragon-spirit and pulled up before he smashed into Red.
Red chased him, blasting fire at his tail
.
Ian tried to out-maneuver the dragon but wasn’t skillful enough to shake him. The only option was to fight. He gained distance from Red and turned to face it. His heart pounded, and the dragon within begged to be freed. Ian had to fight the red dragon and hope for a miracle.
Red hung back and opened its wings with its feet facing out. Its stance reminded Ian of a nature documentary he’d seen on eagles. He pictured the fight scene in his head and charged Red feet first.
They locked talons of one foot and spun through the air. When the eagles had done this, the documentary announcer had called it a game of chicken. At the time, Ian had thought it was a ridiculously civil way to solve their differences.
As they whirled through the air, he realized that though there hadn’t been bloodshed, this form of battle was not child’s play. Centrifugal force pushed Ian’s wings open until he thought they might turn wrong side out like an umbrella on a windy day. The pain was blinding.
They dropped toward the water, and Red shrieked as if to demand Ian to release first. But Ian held on.
They spun faster toward the loch.
Ian’s tail skimmed the surface.
Red released him and pulled away.
Ian didn’t know the rules of battle but couldn’t believe he’d been released so easily as he plunged beneath the water.
His relief was short-lived. As soon as his dragon body was submerged, kaleidoscope colors flashed beneath him as he dropped like a weighted anchor.
The thought that he couldn’t maneuver underwater had never occurred to him. He flipped his body over to use his wings to propel him up. But the pressure of the water clamped around his body, pinning his wings to his side.
Twisting and turning, he struggled to free his wings, but it was no use. A force in the water pulled him toward the bottom. Panic consumed him as he wrestled the magic. The more he fought, the faster he plunged. His lungs burned for more air and knew he would not survive in dragon form.
He shifted to his human form and tried to kick his legs to push him toward the surface, but his legs were just as useless as his wings. Worse, as a dragon, he was impervious to the temperature changes. His human skin burned from the cold, and then numbness set in.
