Magic Heist

by Mary Karlik

  She was fascinated that there were so many magical creatures in one place—especially in the human world. Part of her wanted to mix with the elves, to pretend that she was in her own magical world. But what drew her like a moth to a flame, what she really wanted to investigate, was the yellow glow coming from the back of the pub.

  As she moved closer to the glow, she saw that it wasn’t a thing or a being. It came from a corridor—like a back alley that seemed to link the row of pubs.

  She stopped at the entrance and listened to music echoing off the walls of the buildings and caught glimpses of buskers performing in the distance. It was fantastic. It was wonderful. She couldn’t wait to bring Ian and Finn here.

  The bartender shouted from behind the beer pull. “You can’t go in if you don't pay.”

  The crowd in the pub went silent, and she felt all eyes on her.

  She squeezed the coin. “I’ll just want a wee look.”

  “You can’t go in if you don’t pay,” he repeated.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have money.” Her wings fluttered nervously.

  “And don’t try magic. The last person who tried made a mess of things.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” She craned her neck enough to see a world of booths beyond the confines of the pub. The light was so bright it made everything look as if it were bathed in gold.

  She edged closer. Wooden stalls selling a variety of wares lined both sides of the lane. And she hadn’t seen this many magical creatures in one place since she was thirteen, and her Aunt Mauve had taken her to the fairy court.

  But this place, this golden passage, was like a compressed version of what she’d seen as a child. This place was packed with gnomes, ogres, trolls, elves—even a unicorn.

  Excitement made her wings flutter all the way to the tips. They had saved hundreds of fairies from Fauth. But what about the ones who’d already been sold? Could this be the trail to those fairies? Could this lead to the wand?

  A pack of ogres shambled their way up the golden corridor. If she was to sneak across the line and fall in with them, maybe she could enter without a fee. She took a deep breath and eased toward the entrance.

  Instead of entering the passage, she walked into a wooden door. Moans echoed around her.

  The barkeep turned to her with angry green skin. “I told you, you can’t enter if you don’t pay. Now you’ve tripped the system. Do you know how hard it is to reset the system? For the next half hour or so nobody goes in and nobody goes out. Now aren’t you proud of yourself?”

  Layla winced. “Sorry.”

  “What’s a fuman doing here anyway?” A troll yelled from the bar.

  Fuman. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d been taunted by the insult in her own world. She thought she’d grown past the pain of the insult. But to hear the slur shouted with such venom brought the shame of being a half-caste to the surface.

  She closed her wings and let them fall low on her back. “I—I didn’t know.”

  “You were told though.” The bartender shouted over the crowd. “You know the rules. The wards will be lifted to reset this bloody thing. Anybody using magic will be expelled—permanently.”

  She was tempted to drop the coin in her left pocket and leave, but she wasn’t sure what the bartender meant by permanently. She was stuck in the pub for the next half hour and decided to make the best of it. Scanning the crowd for a friendly face, she settled on a group of elves playing Ronky at the back table. She’d always gotten along with elves. Maybe this lot wouldn’t be any different.

  She made her way to them. “Excuse me.”

  An elf lass wearing a giant beer mug hat looked up at her. “Yes?”

  “What’s so special about the passage?” She thumbed toward the back of the bar.

  The elf squinted at her. “How do you not know? Fifteen years the portals have been sealed, and you don’t know about the market? What rock did you crawl from under?”

  The table broke out in laughter. She stood a little taller and opened her wings. “I’ve only come to this world a few weeks ago.”

  Beer-hat-elf stood. “That’s impossible.”

  “Clearly not as I am here. There was a dark harvester who breached a portal. I followed him.”

  The elf slowly took her seat. “Maybe you had better sit.” She nodded to an elf lad wearing a chicken hat. The man stood and held his chair out for her.

  Layla took the offered seat. Beer-hat-lass leaned close. “There was a rumor of a harvester.”

  Layla nodded. “Aye. The harvester kidnapped fey and brought them here to be sold.”

  * * *

  A lad wearing a donkey hat looked at her like he thought she was a bit unhinged. “And you followed him?”

  “He had my sister.”

  Nods of understanding greeted her from around the table. Beer-hat-lass said, “Word is the harvester was killed.”

  Her pulse sped a wee bit as she did a quick study of the faces around her. Could she trust them? They all wore ridiculous hats, but it was part of the game. And the faces beneath the hats were honest and reminded her of the elves in her world. “He was. I killed him.”

  Chicken-hat-lad sucked in a breath. “You’re a fairy. Fairies can’t kill.”

  “I’m half human. And believe me, it was self-defense. We were able to free many, but there are those who were sold. I’m looking for them.”

  The elves looked at each other. Chicken-hat-lad pulled the hat from his head and dropped it on the cards laid out on the table. “I’m out.”

  Three of the other elves dropped their hats on the table and backed away.

  Layla looked at beer-hat-lass. “You know something.”

  “Not here. When the door opens. Until then, we’re just playing a game. Having a little fun.” She tipped her chin at Layla. “I’m Gillian.” She looked at the lads who’d backed away from the table. “Sit down, you babies. We’re just playing cards.”

  While the bartender continued to work on lifting the wards to reset the door, the magicals in the bar returned to their conversations. A few people complained about not getting their drinks because of the fuman who’d tripped the door, but they left her alone.

  It took two rounds of the game before the door was opened. When the lockdown was lifted, Gillian stood. “Let’s get some air.”

  The lad who wore the chicken hat shook his head. “You need to stay clear of this mess.”

  Gillian snapped back. “And if it were elves who’d been trafficked?” She didn’t wait for the man to respond before leading Layla away from the table and out the front door.

  As soon as they were in the lane, Layla asked again, “What do you know about the fairies?”

  “You’re right. They are sold.” The elf looked around and whispered. “Some are sold on the street, but there are others who—who are auctioned. It’s a high roller game.”

  Layla’s heart ached. “How do I find them?”

  The girl shook her head. “Even if you could free them, ten more will take their places.”

  “No. We—I killed Fauth. The supply has been cut off.”

  “Fauth? That dragon was just one of many traffickers. Believe me, if anything you only made the fey more valuable.”

  Everything inside Layla went cold. One of many traffickers. They hadn’t come close to ending it. “How do I find the fairies?”

  “The golden road, the market. Beyond that, I can’t help you.” She glanced at the pub. “Be careful who you trust. Remember, there were a lot of criminals dumped here.”

  Layla nodded. “One more thing. Do you know about a silver wand? It’s said to create portals.”

  The elf’s gaze darted around the lane. “The rumor is that the Trident Elves have it. Don’t be foolish. They make Fauth look like an angel.”

  The bartender stepped out of the pub. “Hey, fairy. You have a fine to pay.”

  Gillian cut her eyes to the half-ogre walking toward them. “I’ll pay your fine. You don’t want to mess
with that one.”

  “Thank you,” Layla said. “I promise, I’ll repay you.”

  “No. This is my part to help. Word is out that Fauth’s dead. If word gets out that you killed him, there will be a lot of magicals who’ll want to see you dead, too. From this moment forward, I don’t know you.”

  The barkeep pushed his sleeves up to his elbow. “I need to collect from you one way or another.”

  Gillian said, “Relax. I’m the covering the bill.”

  “Thank you.” The words barely left Layla’s lips before the coin settled in her left pocket and sent her spinning back to … back to … hopefully Ian’s flat.

  When her stomach stopped spinning, she was in a flat, alright—but it wasn’t Ian’s. The layout wasn’t much different than Ian’s. A kitchen opened into the lounge, and there was a door that probably led to the bedroom. Two things were strikingly different from Ian’s flat. First, it was as if the contents had been scaled down a size. And second, everything in this flat was either white or gold. Everything. From the low, gold-covered sofa, to the short, white coffee table centered in front of it, to the gold countertops and range to the white refrigerator and cupboards. And it was impeccably clean.

  She reckoned it was the troll’s flat—but trolls weren’t known for their cleanliness. Then again, they weren’t known to wear pressed slacks and to be clean-shaven either. Who was this troll?

  She investigated the kitchen first. The drawers and cupboards were filled with gold flatware and white crockery, but there wasn’t a hint of actual food.

  Across from the gold sofa, was a gold and white sideboard. She opened the doors of the sideboard. Empty.

  The bedroom was decorated with the same gold and white, but the dressers were empty, too. It was odd. Beyond odd. It was as if he lived in a show home for the discerning troll.

  She made her way back to the lounge. The only thing that wasn’t unusual was the television that sat atop the sideboard.

  She picked up the remote and punched the On button.

  She’d expected to see things similar to what Ian watched. Instead, right there on the screen was a prime view of the Magic Market.

  She sunk into the sofa and studied the booths. One after another sold goods from the magical world. “How?”

  Gillian had said that Fauth was one of many traffickers. It seems they weren’t just dealing fairies.

  A gaggle of pixie lasses walked arm in arm down the lane followed closely by pixie lads. She thought of her sister, Esme. Sixteen and stuck in the human world without a lick of magic. She’d never get to experience the normal things she should have.

  Granted Layla was only nineteen, and she hadn’t experienced those things either, but as a half-human half-fairy mash-up, she’d never expected to. But Esme was full-blood fey. Things should have been different for her.

  A female troll bought some charms from a traveler woman. Layla focused on the trinkets hanging from the booth, and they moved closer to the screen and enlarged. When Layla backed away, the screen showed a wider view.

  Then another thought occurred to her. She moved closer to the television. All manner of magical creatures seemed to be on that golden lane, except one. There were no fairies.

  She focused on each of the booths and the items they carried. One by one, they enlarged on the screen. Just past the fourth booth, she thought she saw globes. Not just globes but fairy globes. Globes just like the ones the fey had been trapped in. Her heart fluttered up her throat. They could free more fairies. They could follow the link to the traffickers.

  She focused on the outside of the fifth booth until it was brought closer to the screen. Globes lined the shelves in the back of the booth. But they weren’t fairies. These globes held plants—herbs mostly. A mix of emotion washed over her. Relief that fairies weren’t being sold in the open market. Frustration that she hadn’t found them. And fear that they were being auctioned.

  She clicked the telly off. She may not have found the missing fairies, but she had found a viable lead—not only for the fairies but for the wand. With three days to get the wand, that was good news. And with the coin, she could take Ian and the team to the market.

  Hold on, lass. Don’t get ahead of yourself. She had to get back to Ian first.

  She set the remote on the sideboard and walked to the door. She grabbed the golden handle, pulled the door open, and took a half step and a deep breath. Because it didn’t open to the outside as she’d expected. It didn’t open to another world either. The pure white pristine door opened up to a boarded-up archway.

  “Small problem. I’ll just magic my way out.” She threw a spell to move the boards, but they didn’t budge. She stepped back and flung more power into the spell—still the door stood.

  Of course, the flat was covered with a protection spell. She could use the coin, but it would take her back to the Magic Market. She plopped back on the couch.

  She was missing something. A simple solution was just there at the edge of her thoughts. She just had to hang on to what it was long enough to work it out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ian itched to bring the dragon forward. He wanted to tear the troll apart, but that wouldn’t get him answers. “What do you mean we don’t get her?”

  The troll tipped his chin at the boarded-up arch. “That.”

  A door opened in the wood, and Layla stood just on the other side of it. But it was as if she couldn’t see them. Ian ran to her, but there was an invisible barrier. “Layla!” He yelled wildly, but she couldn’t hear. And then, the door closed.

  Ian whipped around to the little man. “What just happened there?”

  The troll looked up at him with a smirk. “It seems she figured out the coin.”

  Buzzard squeezed the man’s arm a little tighter. “Why couldn’t she come through the door?”

  “It’s a glamour. I have no doubt she’ll figure it out. It’s just a matter of time.” The troll smiled up at the men and swung his legs casually.

  The dragon-spirit was still weak, but Ian’s anger had stirred it. He needed to control his emotions to keep things quiet, but time was ticking away. They had to get Layla back. They had to get that wand.

  He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths until he was able to tamp down his anger and ignore the growing restlessness of the dragon-spirit. “Ah, no.” He moved close to the troll and stared into his face. “We’re finished with the nonsense. This is your flat. You’ve been inside. Now you’re going to take us.”

  For the first time, the smarmy smile fell from the troll’s face. “Actually, I haven’t been inside. Not since Fauth was killed anyway. It seems we’ll have to wait until she figures out the glamour.”

  Ian stretched his neck up and walked in a circle. “This is so frustrating.”

  “It won’t take her long to figure it out,” Jack said.

  Ian jabbed a finger toward the troll. “You’d better hope so. He continued to walk circles, but instead of letting the dragon goad him into shifting, he tried to feel Layla’s soul. If he could connect with it, maybe he could somehow send her a message to look for the glamour.

  He stood in front of the wood door and closed his eyes. He’d never been one to meditate, and this probably wasn’t the best time to learn, but he had to try. He slowed his breathing and focused on feeling that little piece of her soul embedded in his. He knew the instant he’d connected with it because he was filled with sort of a gushy toffee feeling. Like a hug from the inside out. He took a second to enjoy the sensation before repeating the word he hoped she would hear. Glamour.

  He repeated it in his mind over and over until it was a constant stream pulsing through his consciousness to her soul and hopefully to her awareness.

  Somewhere in the distance, he was aware of voices and movement, but he wouldn’t break the connection—couldn’t break it until Layla stood next to him.

  At last, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here. Now knock it off.”

  He opened his
eyes and grinned. “It worked.”

  “Aye. And now I can’t stop hearing it. So don’t even think the word.”

  And that warm, gooey feeling went away like ice had been thrown on it. “Then let’s talk about your wee adventure.”

  Layla stood in front of the troll. “It seems he was telling the truth. I found the Magic Market. It’s at the Grass Market—sort of. It’s a mirror image of the Grass Market.” She glanced at the boarded-up building. “The troll has an interesting flat. Well, an interesting telly. It focuses on the Magic Market. You can see everything.”

  Ian folded his arms and angled his head toward the little man. “Apparently the troll was telling the truth about his magic, too. He doesn’t have any.”

  “I have a name. I’m called Hamish.” He kicked his legs. “Could your men let me down now?”

  Ian nodded, and Jack and Buzzard released the troll.

  Hamish raised big, round, sad eyes to Layla. “I haven’t been inside my flat since you killed Fauth. Not that I’m complaining that he’s gone. But I miss my home. Would you mind giving me a wee spin with that coin?”

  Buzzard shook his head at the man. “Cry me a river. The fairies we rescued would love to be home, but you helped Fauth bring them here.”

  “No. All I did was carry those fairies from place A to place B. And I didn’t have a choice. He had my magic. He controlled me.”

  Layla shrugged. “It makes sense. Trolls have a reputation for petty thievery, but rarely are they violent or cruel.”

  Hamish scowled. “And there it is. I’ve heard it all my life. If you’re a troll, you’re a thief. It didn’t matter that I educated myself or dressed differently. Nobody seems to look past my species.”

  The upper edge of Layla’s wings ruffled. “I didn’t say you were a thief. But it is a reputation your species hasn’t really tried to dispel.”

  Hamish huffed. “I came to this world hoping for a new life. Even got a human job. It wasn’t great, but with my magic, it didn’t really matter.”