Magic Heist

by Mary Karlik

  The water drove him past clusters of red and yellow coral and toward the basin of the loch. Tunnel vision closed around him, and the panic that had consumed his energy moments ago was replaced with peace. He almost smiled as he floated past a golden feather star waving its yellow fingers at him as if saying goodbye.

  Above him, he caught a wisp of a glow, and he wondered if this was the light. The one people saw before they left their body. He twisted to get a clearer view just as it flashed white. He shot out of the water and into the air. He sucked in a breath and screamed as he plunged back toward the loch.

  This time when he went under, he was able to kick to the surface. When his head popped above the water, he gasped for air.

  Finn grabbed beneath his arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Aye. And you?” His lips trembled so hard from the cold he could barely speak.

  “I’m good. If the freezing water doesn’t kill us, we might survive.” Finn’s words came out in chunks as if they were frozen.

  Ian turned a circle in the water, searching for the closest shore. But they were in the middle of a large loch, and no matter which way he turned land was not close. Defeat loomed heavy in his chest. “We have to swim.”

  “Aye. But we’ll freeze slower.”

  Finn swam next to Ian as they doggy-paddled for the shore. “What made you dive into the water? Everyone knows dragons can’t swim.”

  “I didn’t know. I dropped like a stone. I shifted and was hit with a bright light. The next thing I knew I was treading water.”

  “Aye. Elves don’t have fairy magic, but what we have can be handy.”

  “Thank you.” Ian’s limbs stiffened as he paddled through the water. “I gather elves don't have get-us-to-the-shore magic.”

  “Unfortunately, no. We are fighters and healers. We can wound you and then fix you.”

  “No irony there.” Ian flipped on his back and floated. “Go on. My muscles are knackered. I need just a wee rest.”

  Finn treaded water next to him. “We do this together. Keep your legs moving.”

  Exhaustion and hypothermia were winning. Ian’s muscles cramped, and he struggled to stay afloat.

  “Come on. You can do this.” Finn’s words were like an echo in Ian’s mind.

  The dragon-spirit surged with such power that his body was forced into a rapid transformation. As soon as he was dragon, it tried to lift him from the water. And it almost made it. Everything but his spiked tail was out of the water before the magic of the water grabbed hold of that spike and reeled him in.

  Ian reversed the shift or tried to.

  The dragon battled him for more than control. It battled for form.

  The pain of stopping mid-shift was like nothing Ian had ever experienced. It was as if half of his body was growing one way, and the other half changing another way. Every muscle, bone, vessel, and cell stretched and shrank and pulled, trying to decide on a shape and size.

  Human hands jutted from a dragon torso as he struggled to stay afloat. His body was morphing back and forth and on the verge of tearing him apart.

  Finn watched with horror in his eyes. “Ian. You’re a human. Fight to get it back.”

  Ian fought, but his body was in control. Not the dragon-spirit. Not the human. But biology. The battle lasted for another agonizing few seconds before it slowly settled into human form.

  Finn grabbed him under the arm and helped him bob in the water.

  The waves sounded like they were coming from inside a tunnel, and color seemed to have been stripped from his vision. Every muscle in his body ached, and he had a metallic taste as blood dripped down the back of his throat. All he wanted to do was pass out for a day or two. But he had to stay awake to stay alive.

  Ian managed to roll on his back and float. He kept his arms and legs moving to fight the cold in the water and the fogginess in his brain. His body rose and fell with the waves, and he heard squeals in the distance. Squeals or barks?

  Barks. Definitely barks.

  “Stay with me, human. Our rescue is on the way.”

  Ian gave a thumbs up and dropped his arm back in the water.

  “Sea lions are here to help. We’re going to be okay.” Finn’s tinny voice sounded over the den of barks.

  The sea lions swam close together, forming a sort of raft, and lifted Finn and Ian up. They sluiced through the water, carrying them toward shore. In a matter of seconds, Ian felt the sea lion’s stomachs bump along the sand in the shallow water. The herd broke apart and made their way back into the loch.

  Ian crawled on his hands and knees until he was out of the water. Waves crashed on the shore as he fell face first in the sand.

  “Wake up, man.” Finn shook him.

  His hearing returned to normal, hopefully his vision had too. Ian managed to pry his eyes open. A pair of dark brown boots were centimeters from his nose. He rolled his gaze up the boots to Finn standing over him.

  “We have to keep moving.” Finn dropped the plaid next to him. “You dropped this not far from here. Your shirt was shredded when you went dragon.”

  “Thank you.” Ian’s throat burned from the salt water, and his body felt like it had been battered from the inside out as he sat up and fixed the plaid into a kilt.

  Finn rubbed his hand over the hilt of his sword as he waited for Ian to finish fastening the fabric.

  “How’d you manage to keep your sword?”

  Finn pulled it from the scabbard. “I sheathed it as soon as I went under water. While you were resting there on the beach, I went looking for my bow and arrows.” He held his bow up. “Found them and your plaid.” Finn’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. He rubbed his thumb over the end as he spoke. “You know how a dragon thinks. What do they want with me?”

  Ian dug his toes into the warm sand. “I don’t know. Unless they know you’re close to Layla.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe they were trying to draw you out.” Finn’s gaze followed Ian’s to his sword. “Is there another question you have for me?”

  “Layla has the same habit. Her thumb goes to the stone on the end of her sword like a tongue to a sore tooth. She said the words written on the blade were in Elven.”

  He moved his hand away from the sword as if he were suddenly aware of the gesture. “Aye. I gave it to her. It’s Elven forged. Why?”

  “The stone on the end is a dragon’s eye.”

  Finn nodded. “Those stones are common.”

  “During the fairy rescue, we were in a tunnel protected by a ward. Part of the spell took away light. But the dragon’s eye stone lit up. It guided us. We wouldn’t have saved the fairies without it.”

  “I bought that sword from a troll who’d won it in a card game. I was convinced it was magical. I spent hours repeating that nursery rhyme on the blade. My mum threatened me if I didn’t stop. That’s when I gave it to Layla.”

  Ian rubbed his cheek with the flat of his hand. “Is it common for the stone to light up?”

  “No. I’ve never heard of it doing so.”

  Ian glanced at the sword again. “Could the dragons have taken you because of the sword?”

  Finn shook his head. “I doubt it. I gave that sword to Layla years ago. Why come after it now?”

  “I don’t know. I just get a sense that Red grabbing you is connected to Layla.” Ian glanced at the forest. “Since you found my plaid, I assume we’re not far off the path to the Dark Forest.”

  “Aye.” Finn tilted his head toward the trees. “We’re in the thick of it.” He picked up a shell and drew a map in the sand. “We know Old Dorach is near the dragon’s den. The den is not far by the shore. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough beach to take the shore route. The currents are too strong to swim.”

  Ian looked toward the sky.

  Finn held his hand up. “Before you say anything, it would be suicide for you to try. The dragons would attack as soon as you got close. And you’re not exactly deft at dragon battle.”

  “Aye. True. What’s the al
ternative?”

  Finn jabbed the shell into the sand and pointed. “We’re going over that wee hill and back down to the water.”

  The wee hill was rugged, steep, and covered with sharp cliffs. Ian’s body was sore, his muscles screamed with every movement, and the last thing he wanted to do was go over that hill. “Well if that’s all—and just what awaits us besides climbing over impossible terrain?”

  “We’ll have to cross the dub-reòthadh. The black frost.” There was no longer sarcasm in Finn’s voice. His tone was serious with an edge of fear.

  “Layla spoke of the black frost. She said it was a place where only those with a heart full of hate and blackness would go.”

  “Aye. I’m not sure it’s much safer than taking our chances with the dragons or the currents.”

  Dread mixed with fear in Ian’s gut. He didn’t know much about the black frost, but he knew about a creature of the frost. It was Fauth’s henchman. It harvested magic for the dragon and had tried to take Layla’s magic. Ian opened his mouth to speak, but his throat had gone dry, and his lips made a smacking sound. He licked them and tried again. “The Dark Harvester was a creature of the black frost.”

  “Aye. Harvesters can be raised from the spirits of the frost.” Finn’s voice was as gravely as Ian’s. “Not even the dragons will go near there.”

  Ian rubbed his forehead. “There’s something that’s bothered me from the beginning. Layla said Fauth was captured, stripped of his magic, and exiled. How did he manage to create the harvester, and how did that creature manage to pass through a sealed portal?”

  Finn gazed through the forest. “He must have had help. Someone on the Fairy Council made sure that at least one portal wasn’t secure.”

  “Why would a fairy betray his own people?”

  Finn stood and wiped the map from the sand with his foot. “He wasn’t necessarily betraying fairies. More likely he was betraying humans. Humans do not have a friendly history with fairies.”

  “What about the trafficking of fairies?”

  “Fauth’s revenge for being exiled. Or maybe one of the council members isn’t quite all fairy.” He weaved through the trees and up a steep incline. After a few paces, he turned and walked backward. “Layla can understand our language, but she can’t read it. How did she manage to invoke the spell on the blade?”

  Ian winced as various twigs, sticks, and stones covering the path assaulted his bare feet. “She didn’t try to light up the stone. It just happened…”

  Ian’s words were choked off by a series of screeches cracking across the sky. Red flew above the trees flanked by two blue dragons.

  Ian started to drop his kilt to shift, but Finn stopped him. “You can’t win in a battle against three of them. This way.”

  Finn ran wildly through the trees with Ian behind him. Red, the smallest of the dragons, ducked between the trees and shot fire at them.

  The flames didn’t reach them, but Red was gaining on them. If Ian were in dragon form, he could at least protect Finn. But before he could unfasten his belt, the dragons shot to the sky and circled above them.

  Finn skidded to a stop. Ian fell to the ground to avoid running into him. His hands and knees sunk into black mud. Slowly he pulled himself out of the mire and looked up. His breath caught in his lungs as his throat closed tight. He knew why the dragons had pulled away and why Finn had stopped so suddenly. He saw what Finn saw.

  Chapter Eight

  Layla opened her mouth to answer when her breath froze in her lungs. Her throat hadn’t closed. She wasn’t choking. She just couldn’t make her muscles work. With eyes as wide as a toad, she looked around the room. Jack stood next to the fireplace, Amelia sat in the chintz chair, Andrew the red chair, Buzzard on the couch next to her. And they all stared at her like they were waiting for her to speak. That being-chased-in-a-nightmare feeling raced through her burning chest. She made little choking sounds as she struggled to exhale. Still, nobody moved.

  Then as quick as it had captured her, the paralysis left. Air whooshed from her lungs and she sucked in another deep breath. “Ian, what have you gotten into?”

  Amelia flicked her eyes between Andrew and Buzzard. “So what else have you failed to tell me?”

  Jack held out the flask again. “You’re going to need this.”

  Amelia took the flask but didn’t drink from it. “Go on.”

  Layla had barely gotten her breath back when another round of torture hit her. This time her lungs weren’t frozen—they felt like they were being ripped from her chest and her heart as if it were being pulled through a pinhole in her back.

  Layla looked at Buzzard and Jack and then Andrew, hoping one of them would finish the story. The men in turn nodded to her, but none of them had the sense to pick up where she left off.

  She closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths. When her insides returned to normal, she took the arms-on-thighs position she’d seen Buzzard use when delivering bad news. “As you now know, we were battling magical creatures. One of those creatures was a dragon.”

  Amelia unscrewed the cap of the flask. “And…?”

  “Buzzard killed the dragon but not before it took a swipe at your brother’s arm with its spiked tail.”

  “So are you telling me that it severed his arm?” She held the flask to her lips.

  “No.” Layla paused to figure out how to phrase the rest of the story.

  “His arm is covered with lovely dragon scales when he’s human.” Jack’s tone was as cheerful as the smile that stretched across his face. Then as if he realized that Amelia would probably not take the news well, he cleared his throat and took two steps away from where she sat.

  Layla shook her head at him. “Now you talk?”

  Amelia’s face reddened, and she lowered the flask. “What do you mean, when he’s human?”

  Layla closed her eyes for a long breath. Then focusing on Amelia, she continued. “Dragon glands secrete poison during battle, particularly the tail.”

  Amelia set the flask on the table next to the chair. “You’re telling me Ian was poisoned by a dragon, and it caused scales to form on his skin and…”

  “He’s a dragon,” Buzzard cut in.

  Layla shot a look at Buzzard. “He can transform into a dragon.” She turned back to Amelia. “There is a difference.”

  Amelia stood and crossed the room to Buzzard. She jabbed a finger into the center of his chest. “You promised to keep him safe.”

  Layla butted heads with Buzzard more often than not, but there was no way she was going to let Amelia blame him for Ian’s transformation. She jumped up and opened her wings with a loud pop. “He saved his life.”

  Amelia wheeled on Layla. “You be quiet. It’s because of magic we’re in this mess.”

  Buzzard towered over Amelia but cowered as he looked down on her. “It was an accident. The dragon turned to go after me, and her tail caught Ian’s arm.” He cupped her shoulders with his hands and hunched until he was eye-level with her. “Look at me. You know Ian is like a brother. We will get him back. If I have to go through the nine circles of hell to get him, I’ll do it.”

  A blush crawled up Amelia’s neck and into her face, and for a second her breath seemed to stall. She backed away from Buzzard. “Aye. I do know. I know that all of you lads would die for each other.”

  She returned to the chintz chair and plopped onto the seat. She eyed Layla and took another swig of whisky. “What was with the theatrics a few minutes ago? How do you know Ian’s gotten into trouble?”

  Layla’s insides swirled. It was bad enough explaining that Ian had become a dragon-shifter. How would Amelia take it that he also harbored a piece of fairy soul?

  She sat up tall and looked directly in Amelia’s eyes. “Ian became very ill after the poison entered his body. Dragons heal rapidly but just the opposite was happening to him. He was dying from the plague.”

  “The plague?” Amelia was indignant. “We treat it with broad-spectrum antibiotics. The
re’s no reason anybody should die from it.”

  “I gave him IV cephalosporin, but it didn’t help.” Layla heard disappointment in Jack’s words, saw it in his eyes, but was drawn to the way he held the teacup.

  It was like a metaphor for who he was. His hands were the size of an ogre and no doubt, just as strong. But there was gentleness in the way he held that delicate cup. She wondered how a man as smart, kind, and sensitive as Jack ended up in the Specialist Crime Division.

  “If it weren’t for your skills, Ian never would have survived that gash. I just finished what you started.” Layla wanted to reach across the chair and pat his arm but she didn’t.

  Amelia’s face tensed. “What do you mean you finished what he started?”

  Layla set her teacup on the coffee table. “For some reason, the dragon poison accelerated the effects of the plague. I did a magical healing, but in order for it to work, I had to combine our souls. When they separated a piece of mine remained with his.”

  Amelia kicked her wellies off. “So is my brother married to a fairy?”

  “No. Nothing like that.” Layla felt a wee pinch in her heart because just by the way Amelia spit the word fairy, she knew that even if it were possible to marry Ian, it wouldn’t be acceptable. “I can feel his pain. He can’t feel mine because there isn’t a piece of his soul in mine.”

  Amelia pulled the cap from her head and tossed it on the table. “Sounds like every marriage I’ve known.”

  Layla just wanted to get through the rest of the story and see the fairies. “At any rate, I know when he’s hurting and if he dies, so will I.”

  “Yep. Sounds like a marriage.” Amelia stood and shrugged from her coveralls. She wore blue leggings with yellow sunflowers scattered over them and a long, cornflower blue shirt. For the first time, Layla thought she looked like the woman Ian had described.

  Amelia looked at Layla. “Do you have a name?”

  “Aye. I’m called Layla.”

  “Okay, Layla. Back to the creature that murdered my parents. I have the sense that you know what my nanna called into this world. I have two questions. What was it? Why did it kill my parents?”