Shimmer

by Sharon Ashwood

  Randall shifted his stance, spreading his feet apart, and cracked his knuckles. “Sure, I’ll teach you a lesson.”

  Alana nearly rolled her eyes. This had to stop. She hitched her bag so the strap sat securely across her body, then stepped into view. “Howdy boys, I do believe my ears are burning.”

  Randall’s eyes went round with surprise. Then he pulled a gun. It figured he’d take the lazy way out rather than train with knives like every other fae warrior.

  Henry grabbed for the weapon. Alana watched in horror as the two men wrestled over the firearm, sure someone was going to be shot. Meanwhile, Corby spun to make his escape, but Ronan blocked his path. As the genie had promised, he’d gone ahead of Henry and now cut off that escape route.

  Alana caught up to Randall, immediately kicking the gun out of his hand. The weapon flew harmlessly away, but the impact loosened Henry’s grip on the man. Randall tried to bolt, but Alana delivered an elbow square to his chest. He reeled back, almost falling into Henry’s arms, before the coach socked him in the jaw. Randall dropped like a stone.

  Alana picked up the gun, then handed it to Henry. “He’s all yours.”

  Henry nodded, not meeting her eyes, but squeezed her hand as he took the weapon. He aimed the gun at Randall’s head.

  Just then, an unholy screech tore the area. The first thing Alana saw was the surveillance bug streaking through the air as if every bat and bird had declared it lunch. Then she caught sight of Corby. He’d been trying to get past Ronan, but the genie was too quick—so the crusty old bookseller was coming apart. Literally.

  First, a seam opened from the crown of his head down the entire midline of his body. Then, like the covers of a book, the two halves of Corby folded back. A black mass spilled out. It began unfurling, plumping and filling out as each piece found room. It grew taller than Corby—at least twice his size—and rose on two scaled legs. Twin blades, curved and sharp and shining black, pushed out, growing longer and longer.

  “What is that thing?” Alana asked in horror as she backed away.

  They had to stop it, but how? There was nothing left of Corby now—not the Corby she knew. In its place was a dark and shaggy heap of—feathers?

  11

  With blinding speed, Corby snapped at Ronan, his great beak clacking. It closed on smoke. A second later, Ronan was at Alana’s side, his body poised and ready to fight. Then the thing hunched, swinging its head around to find its prey. Alana had never screamed in her life, but this time she came close. That beak could slice a limb in two.

  The black eyes were Corby’s, with all the man’s sharp intelligence. And now, they were filled with an equal measure of malice. It was an expression she’d never expected to see on a bird, even a crow ten feet tall.

  But damn it, that was still her former boss. She stabbed a finger his way. “You traitor!”

  The bird stretched its black wings and cawed, a raucous, ear-splitting torture that had them covering their ears. Corby struck again, his beak grazing Alana’s arm as it pecked for the bag holding the lamp.

  Henry fired the gun, and black feathers sprayed around them. With a ragged shriek, Corby sprang into the air, flapping wildly. Henry shot again, daring Corby to getting any closer. With a final filthy glare, the bird straightened his course and headed north.

  The shield around them dissolved. Someone across the street stopped, pointing at Randall’s downed form. Alana cursed. That was all they needed—helpful bystanders.

  “Corby went for the lamp,” Alana said to Ronan. “He knows we have it—he probably smelled it in my bag. We have to stop him before he reports back to his mirror.”

  Ronan had gone pale. She knew no one needed to tell him what could go wrong if that happened. “He’s going in the direction of his shop.”

  “How do we catch him?”

  Ronan paused, thoughts chasing across his face. “Hang on a moment.” He ran into the coffee shop.

  Henry looked from Alana to Ronan, then pressed the gun into Alana’s hand. “If you’re going after Corby, take this. You don’t want to get close to that thing.”

  “What about you?” Alana asked, surveying the street for more onlookers.

  “I’ll call my student to come help me with this fool.” Henry gave Randall a casual kick.

  Alana examined the weapon. Guns weren’t her first choice, but the bullets had hurt Corby. That was good enough for her. “Thank you,” she said, pressing Henry’s arm.

  Ronan emerged from the shop dragging a worn bit of carpet scattered with crumbs. “It’s not much, but it will do.”

  “Do for what?” Alana asked, mystified.

  “Come here,” he said. “Quickly.”

  Obediently, she ran to where he stood in the middle of the threadbare rug. She could see dents in the pile where table legs had sat. She wondered what Ronan had done to convince the cafe owner to give it up.

  “Sit,” he said, pulling her down beside him. “Hang on tight.”

  She was about to protest when she felt the earth shift beneath her. Speechless, she grabbed for the fringed edge of the carpet with her gun-free hand. When the thing shot straight upward, she finally let loose a scream.

  “Apologies.” Ronan clearly found the moment funny even though he put a comforting arm around her waist. “This one’s a bit of a beater.”

  “Ronan,” she growled between clenched teeth. Below she could see a gobsmacked Henry craning his neck while he talked on his phone.

  And then the carpet swept through the air after the monstrous crow. She clenched her teeth, trying to ignore the tiny moans of dismay coming from her throat. Scrunching her eyes closed, she hugged her shoulder bag close. Alana wouldn’t look down. She couldn’t, or she’d be sick for sure. She’d faced down all manner of monsters, but she’d done it with her feet on the ground. This was a new kind of awful.

  But not for Ronan. She could feel it along the long, hot line where her body touched his. While she was as stiff as a board, his muscles were loose, flexing easily with the movement of the air. Curiosity dared her to open her eyes, but she restricted herself to looking at him. She could only see his profile, but that was enough to know he was in his element. His eyes were closed to slits, and a faint smile played around his lips as he leaned into the wind.

  “You like this,” she said, her tone scandalized. She had to shout to be heard above the rush of wind.

  He laughed, the wild glee in it saying more than any words. Alana swallowed hard. Air fae. They had a reputation for being just a little crazy. Of course, she was the one who’d gotten herself into this mess. Blasting through the air on a scatter rug wasn’t the mark of a responsible adult.

  Alana huffed an exasperated breath, hating that she was so afraid. Well, if he could stand this, so could she. Forcing her gaze down, she shivered. She was apprehensive, but she was also frozen by the chill breeze whipping around her body. Grimly, she leaned forward an inch to get a better view.

  And forgot everything else. The city spread out below, sparkling in the morning sun. Despite their altitude, Alana’s heart skipped at the unexpected beauty of it. The city’s two bridges spanned the inlet, cars streaming across them like slithering strings of beads. Buildings thrust upward beneath them, barely recognizable from this angle. They skimmed the rooftops, dodging in and out of their massive shadows as the carpet found the quickest route.

  They were flying as the crow flew. She could see Corby ahead and below, a giant black mass moving far faster than any ordinary bird. They were pacing him, but would need to speed up to catch him before he reached the shop. Alana didn’t want to face Corby on his own ground, with all those magical toys lurking in his office safe—not to mention that blasted mirror. He’d have an arsenal on his side.

  They’d have to confront him in the air. She’d have to shoot him. Her stomach rolled at the thought. Fighting was one thing—as brutal as it was, she never set out to kill anyone. As she’d told Barleycorn, she’d only accept an honest job. But saving the
world from Shades surely counted.

  She spotted Comfy Chair’s neighborhood in the distance. “Can this thing go any faster?”

  Ronan nodded, then the carpet tilted as it caught the updraft between buildings. Alana squeaked, her death grip on the carpet fringe tightening another notch, but she didn’t slide off. Whatever magic made the thing fly apparently kept its passengers secure.

  They angled over a street, using the office buildings as visual cover while Ronan closed the distance. The excitement of the chase rolled off him like a scent. Her own pulse sped in sympathy, and she dared to release her hold of the carpet fringe to ready a two-handed grip on the gun.

  Their flight took them over a familiar part of the downtown, all but strafing a rooftop volleyball game before swooping beneath the glassed-in walkway that stretched between two towers. She knew Ronan was using some sort of charm to hide them from human eyes. But then they streaked past the building where the Wildwood Agency had its offices. She caught a glimpse of Barleycorn standing at his window, and by the startled turn of his head, she knew they had been seen.

  She cursed, but decided to face that problem once they’d dealt with Corby. There was a break between the buildings where the street ended in a park, and she saw they’d drawn neck and neck with the crow. She finally had a clean shot. As if in response to her wishes, the carpet steadied. She aimed and fired.

  And missed. She was better with knives.

  “Argh!” she cried in frustration, but Ronan was already circling for another attempt. The park ended, and their sightline was again broken by flashing walls of glass as they sped past high-rises. He spiraled up for better visibility—only for them to see that Corby had vanished.

  They paused in the air only for a fraction of a second, then Ronan dropped into a steep dive. Alana’s breath stopped as her flesh resisted the sudden pull of gravity. It was horrifying, crushing, but when she managed to look up, she understood the move. Corby had somehow come behind them, and was hot on their tail. Alana’s vision filled with the gigantic beak opening to reveal a blue-black tongue. She swung the gun up, intending to send a bullet right down its gaping throat, and tried to ignore the ground rushing up to meet them.

  Ronan chose that moment for evasive maneuvers. The carpet pulled out of the dive with stomach-churning speed, and Alana grabbed for the carpet again. Corby flapped wildly, the huge wings thundering as he tried to slow his descent. With their quarry stalled, Ronan sent the carpet in a graceful loop—upside down—over the bird. For the second time that day, Alana screamed and clutched her bag so the lamp didn’t come tumbling out.

  And then the sky was above them once more, and Corby was ahead. Alana aimed and fired. This time, the bullet scored deeply along the crow’s flank. Black feathers sailed through the air, twirling as they fell.

  Corby strained forward, now flying for his life. The store was just one street over. They had seconds to catch up—but something new was happening. The air above Comfy Chair Books and Collectibles was growing solid. No, that wasn’t right. It was growing reflective, casting back images of the sky and buildings around them so the space above the store seemed to fold back on itself.

  “He’s using the mirror in his office,” Ronan shouted. “He’s summoned the Shimmer.”

  He was about to get away. “Faster!” she cried.

  The carpet shot forward, as if using all the genie’s strength and will. Alana crouched, making herself more aerodynamic, and sighted on the crow. The second before she pulled the trigger, Corby vanished.

  He’d been there.

  Now he wasn’t.

  The Shimmer was gone, too. The carpet whooshed over the store as if Corby and his magic had never been there. Alana snarled, a sound of frustration beyond words. They’d lost him. Now the Shades would find out about the lamp, and the Wheel only knew what they’d do to get Ronan back.

  Or what they’d do to Ronan once they had him.

  Alana sank back on her heels, hot tears of frustration tracking down her cheeks. “I wish we knew where Corby went!”

  Ronan flinched as if someone had punched him in the gut.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Her second wish was made, whether she’d planned to use it this way or not.

  The world went utterly black and cold—so very cold. Blind and freezing, she grabbed for Ronan’s hand, and was relieved to find it was there. She had a wild thought they’d followed Corby into death.

  And then they were back in the world, but instead of the city, she gazed over a rugged landscape of scrub and rock, split by a wide brown river. Ronan made a strangled noise. The thick muscles of his forearms flexed as he gripped the carpet, and it began to descend.

  Alana opened her mouth to object. A piece of her brain was still fixated on chasing Corby, but he was nowhere in sight. Maybe this was where he’d gone, but her wish hadn’t been any more specific than that. Nothing guaranteed they’d actually catch him.

  The rug landed with a bump. Ronan sprang from it, running a dozen steps to stare out at the stark landscape. Alana unfolded herself, amazed at how stiff she’d become. Magic carpets were anything but ergonomic.

  She walked to Ronan’s side. It seemed they’d landed on a plain of scrubby grass. Ahead, a river valley dipped away. The surrounding rock formations were striated in shades of red and orange, reminding her a bit of the Grand Canyon. As the freezing cold from the ride left her body, she realized the temperature was sweltering.

  He suddenly turned and folded her in his arms, his grip intense, almost crushing. Alana struggled to read his mood, but couldn’t figure it out. “What’s going on?” she asked gently.

  By way of reply, he kissed her long and hard. His touch was searching, but it wasn’t the prelude to intimacy. It was deeply personal in another way.

  The moment he released her, he sank to his knees and braced his palms on the ground. She knelt beside him. “What is it?”

  He shook his head, grabbing up a handful of the rust-colored soil. It trickled through his fingers, sending up a tiny cloud of dust. “This is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

  “What?” She was getting impatient to understand.

  “My most excellent warrior, you made that wish for us both.” His eyes bright, he grinned. “This is my home.”

  12

  Well, this was new.

  If Ronan was home, they were in the faery realm. Alana hadn’t planned to hop between realities when she’d set out that morning. Or ever. Panic began bubbling deep inside. How on earth was she going to get back?

  She spun, taking in the landscape one more time. This time, she saw evidence of people in the distance—tiny pockets of activity, as if farmers were just gaining a toehold. Clusters of animal pens and brick-and-thatch houses were tucked deep into the river valley. Tilled green fields spread like a rising flush beside the water, an indication of careful irrigation. “I didn’t know so many fae stayed here rather than going into exile.”

  “Bright Wing did not go into exile. Nor did their tenants. At least, not all of them.” He pointed toward the settlements. “I see they are trying to rebuild.”

  “Are they safe?”

  “I can only assume the Shades have moved on to find more interesting victims.” His mouth set in a grim line. “They could reduce all this to ash if they chose.”

  “You mean maybe the Evil Empire’s sudden interest in the human realm is giving these folks a chance to recover?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Talk about a good news, bad news situation.” She tried to think past the mental voice screaming that she was stuck in an alien universe. “Look, we need to get out of the open. Corby will have gone straight to Shade HQ, and they’ll call out the dogs as soon as they hear we’re on this side of the Shimmer. Should I wish us back?”

  “No!” He cast her a stern look. “Don’t use your wish for that.”

  “You want to stay here?”

  “Yes, but that is not the reason.”


  She considered. “Is it bad luck to undo one wish with another?”

  His face shuttered, as if hiding an internal struggle. “It rarely works out as expected. Trust me on this.”

  Alana nodded in reluctant agreement. “Then what should we do? It’s going to be a lot harder to stop Corby now.”

  “I need to get you to safety. That means another flight, but a short one this time.”

  He sounded so protective she had to smile. “You’re the one the Shades want, not me.”

  “You’ve defied them, interfered with their plans, and attacked one of their servants.” He ran a proprietary hand down her arm, as if he were proud of what she’d done. “They will demand retribution.”

  “Good times.”

  Alana took her place on the carpet. They rose high into the cloudless sky, and she felt the full force of the bright, hot sun as they flew toward the distant mountains. The density of the little farms increased until they melded into a city built from the same yellowish brick.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Kyleen, the capital of Bright Wing’s lands.”

  “Did you live here?” she asked.

  “Not quite. Near here, though.”

  Kyleen wasn’t like anyplace Alana had ever seen. From the air, she could see the streets were laid out like the spokes of a wheel radiating from a central plaza. Oxen pulled carts along the wide thoroughfares, passing open markets and public wells. Judging from the piles of rubble across the city, very few of the major buildings still stood.

  The destruction sobered Alana. What damage could the Shades do if they reached her world? What if they learned to use human technology? Human weapons?

  The carpet changed direction, angling north to pick up a faster air current. Slowly, they gained altitude. Ronan pointed to the left. “Do you see that flat-topped mountain?”

  “Yes.” Something about its shape seemed familiar.

  “That is the Wheel, where High King Jorwarth once sat upon the throne. The kings are dead, the council scattered, but someday from the ashes will rise the flame. We have sworn it.”