Lost Magic (Stolen Magic Book 3)

by Jayne Hawke

  The Last Call was an understated, high-end sort of place. The cocktails started at twenty pounds and peaked at over a hundred. I’d been there once before and found it to be boring. Sure, the drinks were good, possibly even worth the sky-high prices. The atmosphere, however, was dry and stuffy. The conversations were all muted, stilted, and clearly working on more layers than a torte. No one spoke freely there. It was all polite fictions and outright code.

  To my surprise, when I got there it was closing for the night. The wait staff in their deep red waistcoats were tidying up for the night while the final pair of puka stepped out into the cool air. Looking around, I tried to spot the fixer. He was supposed to be tall, dark, wore nice suits, and to have startling green eyes. In a city with more fae than a lot of people liked, that wasn’t as unusual as I might have hoped.

  A guy caught my attention. There was a graceful ease to his movements, a confidence born of the knowledge that nothing could touch him. Most fae were predators, but there were levels, a hierarchy. He looked like he might just be at the top of it. Perfect.

  I casually wandered after him, trying to weigh up exactly how I should approach this. My temptation was just to outright ask him. But then, the fae can be very uptight, especially those associated with the courts. It could be better to try some small talk and ease into it. I hated small talk. This shit was why I didn’t handle anything political. I hated the obnoxious dances and layers you had to break through.

  He turned into a dark alley. It was weird that someone like him would opt to try and take a short cut. Surely he would have parked nearby. He was planning on jumping me. Well, this wasn’t quite how I’d wanted it to go down, but if it cut through the small talk I was game.

  “So, asking for a friend, why are you in town and who are you working for?” I asked in my brightest voice.

  I got the impression he wasn’t feeling talkative a heartbeat later when his fist crashed into my temple hard enough it probably counted as trepanation. A roundhouse to my chin half a second after that finished my trip to the alley wall, where I struggled not to crumble to the ground. It was looking like I might have overestimated the ease with which this favour could be accomplished.

  I drew my sword, drawing on the life energy in it to raise myself a step or two above my normal speed in the brief moments I had before he realized this wasn’t over and renewed his assault. I couldn’t kill him, not if I wanted to get Kate’s info on phoenixes, but he’d survive a missing arm or two. Knowing the fae, he’d probably regrow them in time for his next appointment.

  Right on cue, he tried a quick leg kick. I blocked with the edge of my sword, the blade leaving a pretty razor cut through his expensive trousers, a line of blood just visible beneath. It wasn’t much, but it should have been enough to make him reassess. In reality, he followed it up with two body blows and then grabbed me by the throat, pinning me against the wall. His arrogance was quickly his undoing. My sword was still in my hand, my arm still free between us. A quick flick of the blade later his femoral artery was making a mess of the pavement beneath us. I swept through the slice and brought the sword up between us, pressing the point through the front of the trousers and preparing to relieve him of his cock.

  “Now, I’ll ask again. Why. Are you. In town?”

  Apparently fae aren’t as attached to their cocks as humans. Risking the rod removal, he grabbed my sword by the blade and yanked it away. The shock of his complete disregard for the threat loosened my grip enough that he could throw the weapon clear, the clanging of my advantage skidding along the ground a timpani of sudden tidal shift.

  He backed off, blood loss and agony finally enough to make him pause the assault. His stance was still perfect, his eyes still bright and focused even as blood pooled at his feet. This called for hilarious measures. Drawing out the spell I’d been working on (and waiting for a perfect chance to test) from the artifact that I’d finally settled on calling the Genie in the Bottle, I cast it at his feet and backed quickly away. It went instantly into effect, turning every earthen object in a ten-foot sphere into sand. The narrow walls of the alley came down in an instant, red sand pouring down into two piles taller than either of us, the collapsing grit meeting in the middle to bury the fae up to his neck, a conveniently interrogatable package waiting for my care and attention. I walked delicately over to my sword, picked it up in a languorous bend, and then walked back to the struggling fae with a barely suppressed giggle on my lips.

  “Third time’s the charm, sparkletits,” I said, climbing up the pile of sand to stand over him.

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  I kicked sand in his face and said nothing.

  “You’re why I’m here, and if you didn’t already know you’d have no reason to be in my way.”

  I kicked sand in his face again and again said nothing.

  “Will o’ wisps? Ringing any bells yet, bitch?”

  I kicked sand in his face a third time, and he finally clarified.

  “I am in town because you have been eating will o’ wisps and they are intelligent creatures that deserve protection from second-rate spellslinger assholes. When I get out of this sand, I am going to take your life very slowly.”

  “Wait, eating wisps? That’s like accusing me of eating a cloud, they’re not even corporeal. I couldn’t eat a wisp even if I could catch one, and if I did I’m extremely sure they would taste like shit. I really thought you people were smarter than that.”

  With that, I turned on my heel and walked away. I had the information I needed, even if it was spectacularly stupid.

  Fifteen

  My injuries started to really kick in once I was in my car. The adrenaline was wearing off, and everything started to grow stiff and sore. Groaning, I headed home secure in the knowledge that at least I had what Kate had asked for. She had better have some really good information. The damn fixer could throw a punch.

  Elijah handed me a healing potion as I walked in through the door. He had that I told you so look on his face. At least he had the good grace to not actually say it out loud.

  “Did you get what you went there for?”

  “Yes. Apparently someone’s been trapping and eating wisps. And even better, someone told the fixer that person was me. Who would eat wisps? How do you even eat them? They’re little balls of floating gas. They clearly have some intelligence, as they love leading people astray, but that makes it worse.”

  Elijah gave me a wry smile.

  “Don’t underestimate the tastes of some of the richer, older fae.”

  I wrinkled my nose. People, normal human-ish people ate some weird things. I mean, who thought that fish eggs looked delicious? But a wisp was a ball of sentient gas. Shaking my head, I sat down in the kitchen and wolfed down the pixie dust brownies Liam handed me. Thankfully, we had enough sense to keep things like that on hand. The shifters could heal better than me, meaning they didn’t necessarily need it, so I appreciated that they did keep it around even more. Although, the fact that they felt I needed it could be mildly offensive. I chose to focus on the positive.

  “How was your night? Any breakthroughs?” I asked.

  Elijah sighed and shook his head.

  “I get the distinct feeling that Varehn is blocking us. Everyone’s gone quiet. Even my usually reliable people have either vanished or gone silent. I’m growing increasingly weary.”

  “And his thugs are becoming more of a problem,” Liam said.

  “What happened?” I asked reflexively.

  “Jess was jumped by a pair of pixies while she was out. She was fine, but the point stands. I saw a group of mercenaries tailing me earlier, too.”

  I rolled my shoulders, enjoying the pain sliding away.

  “What are our options in regard to dealing with them?” I asked.

  “We need to push back, and hard. To demonstrate that we’re not weak or easy pickings,” Elijah said.

  I held up my hand. Kate was ringing me.

  “I have your information,
which I assume is why you’re ringing,” I said.

  “About that. Someone paid me something far more valuable, so the deal’s off.”

  I felt the bizarre urge to growl, quickly followed by the need to throw my phone. Kate had never been one of my better contacts, but having Varehn pay her off right from under my nose pissed me off. Especially after I’d taken on the cursed fixer like that.

  “Fuck you,” I spat.

  She laughed.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. You should have ponied up the goods while you had the chance.”

  She hung up, and I very carefully placed my phone down on the table. I wasn’t going to destroy it just because that bitch had given the information to Varehn instead.

  “Give me what you have on the thugs, mercenaries, whatever they are. I’ll deal with them. It would seem that my contacts are useless, and I need something to punch.”

  Liam and Elijah looked at each other as I tried to quell my rage and maintain control. Anger was a useful weapon, but only when carefully wielded. That was something Castor had taught me early on. Everything would have been much easier if he were still around. Why did he have to make me choose between him and the pack?

  As much as I’d wanted to compile a list of names for the mercenaries Varehn had hired, I’d allowed Elijah to take me to bed. Heading out into the city exhausted and full of rage would end in disaster. There was already a very real chance that the lord would be pissy about the destruction of property from my little spell against the fixer. The spell had worked beautifully, though. I needed to make sure I had it in my grimoire.

  Elijah ran his fingers up and down my spine as a cheesy movie played on the TV. I had cuddled up to him, laying my head on his bare chest, trying to ground myself in the solidity of him. The betrayal by Kate wasn’t personal, but it was hitting me hard. After Castor, things felt more personal. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be grieving for him or not. The bond between us was still present. I knew he was alive somewhere. The problem was, I didn’t know if that was better or worse.

  Expecting him to come back to me after what I did was unreasonable, I knew that. That didn’t stop me from wanting it.

  Sixteen

  As much as I wanted to go out into the city and break a few noses, I needed to handle this sensibly. Varehn was trying to cut us off from information and take us out with thugs. The pack was going to continue leaning on their contacts and see what they could shake out. I needed to see exactly whom Varehn had hired and whom I needed to take out first.

  Really, I needed to focus on the biggest threat. Jess and I were all for just going after Varehn himself, but Elijah, ever the voice of reason, pointed out the risks involved there. We needed to ensure any harm we did to him was clearly in self-defence. So, that meant I needed to remove the next biggest threat.

  Liam was on one of his laptops chasing down leads from an underground firebug group. They were apparently very elusive and well hidden. He’d been cursing at his laptop and typing furiously for an hour. Thankfully, he had begun compiling a list of what he could find on those who’d shown interest in the call Varehn had put out.

  A glance down the list showed it was the usual suspects. A group of desperate, scrawny little part breeds who took on anything with some chance of money at the end. A pair of vicious witches with more aggression than real talent. There was nothing on there that posed any real threat. They’d be a pain in the ass and likely screw up a scene, but any of us could take them out without any real effort.

  I opened my own laptop and headed over to the online job boards for wet work. They were a reasonable starting place. The boards were semi-anonymous. Sometimes those putting a hit on someone wanted the recipient to feel the fear of having a hit out on them. It was a head fuck. Other times it was strictly anonymous, and I didn’t have the computer skills to dig through the layers there.

  Given we knew that Varehn had put out an all call, I didn’t need to worry too much about trying to hunt down anonymous people. Everything should have been right there in plain sight. We were a huge deal, after all, anyone who managed to take us down would be notorious throughout the territories.

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I clicked through the dark boards trying to find the one that had our names and detailed on there. The entire website was in slate grey and blood red, a bit much for my tastes. It took me fifteen minutes of digging through people putting hits on their spouses, negotiations over prices, and ridiculous arguments over what constituted evidence and whether it was strictly necessary.

  A lot of people required evidence that the job had been completed. It made sense to me. There was, however, the argument that so much of the evidence was too easy to forge. No one would miss a few missing hairs, or some drops of blood. As much as witches could tell whether the original owner was alive or not, other witches could fake it. So, there was some possibility for something to be set up and agreed between a killer wanting to make something on top of the agreed price and a target that wanted to disappear that got them both what they wanted. It had happened before, and it would no doubt happen again.

  I couldn’t say that I particularly liked the idea of hauling someone’s head around to demonstrate I’d gone through with it. Then there were the anonymous clients. Trying to arrange the drop off for a head was far too much hassle.

  I finally found the notice for our hit. Varehn had done his homework. There was a lot of information on there. It detailed Jess’ original family, all of whom were now in France, her childhood, potential fears, and more. A knot formed in my stomach as I looked for the section on me.

  The story they’d put up there was the one that I’d created and told everyone. It had all the small details Castor had created for me to make it more authentic. On one hand, it was creepy that they’d given out so much; on the other, I was glad that it had held.

  The orders were to bring us in dead or alive. I was disappointed that Varehn was only handing out one and a half million for the entire pack. We were worth a lot more than that. We were the best in the city with solid reputations for getting the job done. I exhaled slowly and refocused on who felt they were good enough to take us down.

  Opening up a new document, I began making a list of names. That list would be added to my official shit list.

  Seventeen

  The list was long. It seemed that there were a lot of people who were quite happy to try and see us dead. A few of them had travelled from other territories. Leaning back in my chair, I looked down the list, trying to assess whom I knew and who posed the biggest threat.

  I felt pretty good about ignoring the crow shifters. They could be great for information if you could get them on side. They were not, however, combat shifters. No, it was the lone elf, the cluster of sidhe, and the kitsune that I was most concerned by. I hadn’t dealt with a kitsune before. They weren’t common in the Fae Isles.

  Liam handed me a large cup of coffee.

  “You look awful,” I said sympathetically.

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of these arsonists for hours now. I don’t know how they’re so good with their defences. I just can’t get through them.”

  “When did you last sleep?”

  He frowned at the calendar on his laptop.

  “Three days ago.”

  I raised my eyebrow at him.

  He sighed and gave me his cup of coffee.

  “You know you’re no use to anyone if you’re that tired,” I said gently.

  It was tempting to work through the night chasing something, but sleep was incredibly important. There were times when I wished I could just mainline the magical stimulants and stay up for days without any side-effects. But there were always side-effects, and they were far worse than just taking a few hours to sleep.

  Liam headed upstairs, hopefully to sleep. I was pretty sure he had another laptop up there. At the end of the day, the decision was his. I couldn’t force him to sleep. He was a grown man.

  I took a big gulp of the closest coffee and
started my search to see what I could find on kitsune. I needed to see exactly how much trouble we were in here.

  At first, kitsune didn’t sound too bad. Sure, they were mischievous, but they could also be thoughtful protectors. There were stories of them adopting households and helping to bring them prosperity. As I dug in more, I came to realise there are two types of kitsune, and I was dealing with the less pleasant version.

  The second form of kitsune is far more vengeful, and they take particular pleasure in tearing down people they deem to be arrogant. Why she might work for Varehn, in that case, I didn’t know. My reading showed that she would likely appear as a beautiful woman, but her grasp on illusion magic was second to none. That was something her type of kitsune frequently took advantage of, and it was recommended that people not accept traditional monetary payment from them. They wrapped illusions around paper, twigs, and such to make it appear to be cash. Once they were safely out of sight, the truth was revealed.

  Thankfully, I didn’t intend on taking any money from her. The magic side of things looked like it would be a pain in my ass. They tended to lean heavily on their illusion magic, although they were said to be fond of lightning and fire, too. So, I’d have to work on my water magic for the fire side of things. The illusions looked to be difficult to break or see through. I made a mental note to dig further into the spellbreaking stuff I’d looked into in the past. Maybe there was something specifically for kitsune illusions.

  I rubbed my temples as I noted their abilities as tricksters and concluded I very likely had a difficult fight on my hands. She could well have been a bigger risk than Varehn himself. I debated whether I had it in me to talk her around to our side of things. It seemed unlikely. If she saw me, or the pack, as being arrogant or felt we’d slighted her in some way we were screwed.