That means she doesn’t really want to hurt anyone—that’s good for us.
“Fae and shifters don’t stay in the same island sector,” I tried explaining gently.
The brunette snarled again, and a flare of magic swirled up into the blonde fae’s hand.
Okay. Wrong tack.
“What are your names?” Clark tried.
The women didn’t answer.
“Evangeline Gray and Mara Blackwood,” Trumbull supplied, gesturing first to the fae and then to the shifter.
”You can’t keep us apart,” Mara insisted, her eyes flashing orange. “It was part of our plea-bargain that we wouldn’t be separated.”
Trumbull took a step toward the guards’ cage, the office that held all the controls to allow him to shut down the facility.
Almost casually, Evangeline tossed a lightning bolt toward his feet, too. “Don’t do it,” she commanded.
Trumbull shook his head, but he stopped. From where I stood slightly behind him, though, I could see him pushing buttons on his walkie-talkie.
He was sending out some kind of message to the rest of the guards on the island.
If we don’t get this under control, it’s going to go sideways—fast and ugly. It was like Mara read my mind. As soon as the thought flickered through my brain, her head whipped around and she pinned me with those glowing orange eyes of hers.
Then she and Evangeline moved as if they were one organism—or at least as if they could read each other’s minds, too.
With a puff of pinkish-purple sparkles, Evangeline used her magic to boost herself up the nearest wall, running lightly straight up as if she had forsaken gravity altogether, until she reached the ceiling, holding her hands first out and then down toward Mara, who lifted her own arms to follow Evangeline’s progress.
At the same time, Mara shifted, flowing into her wolf form more easily than any shifter I had ever seen before. By the time Evangeline reached the ceiling, Mara was pulling her front paws out of the shackles that had held her and dropping to all fours.
It took Trumbull that long to figure out what was going on. He fumbled for his weapon, but before he could get it drawn, Evangeline pulled her knees to her chest, floating in the air by the ceiling for a microsecond. When she punched out with her legs, I felt the percussive force of the magic she sent with them. It rocked past me, blowing me backward even as it exploded the wall outward.
Trumbull, Clark, and I all flew back, landing on our asses and fetching up against the back wall with a series of resounding thumps.
I cracked my head against the wall behind me, and stars floated in front of my face—but not enough to obscure the glorious sight of Mara leaping over the rubble and out the hole her partner had created in the wall.
Evangeline floated out behind her and wrapped her arms around her friend’s neck, digging her fingers into Mara’s ruff.
With another swirl of bright magic, the two flashed away, faster than Mara could run on her own.
I reached up to feel the lump on the back of my head, wincing as my fingers made contact with the egg-sized bump.
Beside me, Trumbull spoke urgently into his walkie-talkie, barking out commands and instructions.
As alpha, I should have been angry that one of my pack members had so blatantly refused to work with me.
But as I pulled myself to my feet, my inner wolf lolled his tongue in lupine laughter.
There was definitely something satisfying about seeing my mate best the system.
Even if she didn’t know yet that she was my mate.
I indicated Trumbull with a nod that I would head back to the yard. He waved us away impatiently.
Strolling back down the long hallway, I made eye contact with Clark.
He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth quirked up in something that was almost a grin.
Oh, yeah. He definitely felt it, too.
Those two women couldn’t get very far. They almost certainly couldn’t escape the island—not even with the magical ability they had shown so far. But even if they could, they’d be picked up eventually and brought back.
No, one way or another, we would be seeing them again.
And I couldn’t wait to see what they did next.
The End
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USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and New York Times bestselling author Margo Bond Collins is a former college English professor who, tired of explaining the difference between “hanged” and “hung,” turned to writing romance novels instead. (Sometimes her heroines kill monsters, too.
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The Hunters’ Academy, Year 1
The Hunters’ Academy, Year 2
Abducted
Bokerah Brumley
About ABDUCTED
Magically challenged Zenith Calhoun and her best friend, Samantha, live in a shack and survive on stolen bits of food. Together, they survive on Unseen Street, in a world adjacent to the mortal realm. But, Paden, the captain of the peacekeepers, has much more nefarious plans for Zenith and Sam.
A Blackened Apple
Unseen Street
Zenith Calhoun made her way down the alley, toward the open-air market, her stomach growling so loudly she thought she might earn a snicker or two from the group of vampire younglings at the corner. None of them said anything.
Twilight tinted the sky above the red-brick buildings. Cracks spiderwebbed across the deteriorating asphalt, and purple Fae grasses grew up through the gaps. The grit of the city scraped against her shoe soles. Yeasty smells of fresh breads and spiced meats tickled her nose and made her stomach twist. She hadn’t had anything to eat all that day or supper the night before.
Zenith’s ears twitched, but she didn’t slow her forward motion. If the rumors were true, magical hybrids had been disappearing all over the city, but she couldn’t stop.
Sam’s hunger drove Zenith almost as much as her own. She meant to keep Sam alive until they could figure out how to beat Sam’s sleep problems. The end of the business day was always the best time to hit the market. Shopkeepers busied themselves counting their money for the day and packing up their wares.
Footsteps echoed about half a block behind her, the bipedal sounds too light to be anything larger than a mortal child. Perhaps one of the scamps that frequented the thoroughfares leading to the bazaar. The hurry-scurry increased the closer she got to the hub of business.
Farg, a giant of an ogre, sat at the threshold of the market, eyeing every shopper, his arms crossed. He made his living as the thief crusher, and he took his job seriously. When he glanced at Zenith, she waved. Other than the slightest crinkle of his hairy, warty upper lip, he didn’t react. She adjusted her jacket and slipped by him without stopping.
Once inside the souk, Zenith didn’t dawdle. A family of hum-fairies zoomed past her head, each one giggling lik
e mad, probably on their way to portal to new homes. Trolls hawked spittoons, magic lamps, and the magic moss that grew upon their ancestor stone, but she needed food not spell ingredients. Her best option would be the Stygian apples at the farthest booth to the back. One would fill their stomachs for days. Each bite, once swallowed, grew bigger on the inside.
Stealing wasn’t the quickest way to have a good sort of long-term life, but it was the only way she knew how to get a thing the moment she needed a thing. Resources weren’t easily available for an orphaned blue feet, especially one already branded as shoplifter. Nobody liked half-breeds, and she had years of reputation to overcome.
Zenith jogged by aisles upon aisles of exotic items only available on Unseen Street. Gypsies used fortune-telling conch shells to share futures. The local matchmaker wandered the aisles, handing out her card and promising a happily ever after to any magical creature who listened.
Zenith paused at the aquatics. Lounging in livestock watering tanks, beautiful mer women assembled seaweed cigars on planks from ancient ships. The smokes would dry overnight and be ready for sale the next day. Their scales shimmered in the diminishing light. One of the selkies waved a flipper, but her water horse customer stomped his foot.
Zenith’s stomach grumbled, and she went on her way once more. A moment later, she reached the shadow section. She darted by the fruit bins, pausing only long enough to bump into the bin filled with the Stygian fruit.
An armful spilled over the ground, and she bent to pick them up. Each one sparkled bright white except for the bottom. The bottom half of each apple looked as though it had been dipped in black and then rolled in stars. They came from a planet near a black hole, and they held so much more energy than any other fruit in the souk.
Zenith batted one of the superfoods across the aisle and beneath another vendor’s bin. Then, as the plump shop owner, Mother Hubbard, came around the corner, Zenith swiped a different blackened apple and tucked it into her jacket pocket, careful to make sure even Mother Hubbard’s blind dog could see the obvious movement.
As expected, when she did, Mother Hubbard shrieked for the peacekeepers, and a cadre of five Fae officers appeared beside the small shop. Law-loving Fae made the best peacekeepers. They could snap themselves from place to place and had invented the only handcuffs that could hold magical beings. Each of the officers had two or three sets of the cuffs hanging from their belts. They’d materialized sooner than expected.
Zenith grimaced. Farg must have warned them when she entered. She must be losing grace with the old ogre. She sighed. It would make surviving more difficult.
Paden, the leader of the Fae squad, wore a long, silvery plume, sticking straight out of the top of his helmet. Rumor had it that the silvery feather came from one of the wings of the brave leader of an elite band of Fae warriors called the Scíath Sciathán.
The feather moved in an invisible wind. Paden’s mouth tightened, and he hooked his thumbs behind his belt and glared at Zenith. She’d met him under similar circumstances before. If he was worth two shakes of salt, he recognized Zenith, too.
“How can we help you, ma’am?” Paden asked, keeping his gaze trained on Zenith.
Zenith pulled the one Stygian apple from her jacket pocket and replaced it on the appropriate bin. “If I had a coin to buy, I would have, Mother Hubbard.”
The elderly woman crossed her arms and glared at Zenith. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? I wasn’t spit out of Hades yesterday, girl.”
Paden tapped the blustering shopkeeper on the shoulder. “Please explain the situation, ma’am.”
Mother Hubbard pointed a long, gnarled finger toward Zenith. “She stole a blackhole fruit, sir. As you know, those are worth thirty times more than a normal love apple and require great cost to retrieve.” She sniffed. “I want her hand chopped off for stealing from my stock.”
The lead Fae raised an eyebrow. “Now, Mother Hubbard, you know we don’t cut off hands for theft of food. Theft of food usually indicates hunger, and the mayor is lenient.” He turned to Zenith. “Nevertheless, I will conduct a search of the offender.”
Zenith feigned irritation, barely hiding the grin that threatened to bloom on her face. They’d been through it all before. She raised her hands. “Knock yourself out, officer.”
The shopkeeper snorted. “See that you do.” Mother Hubbard marched away, her blind dog trailing after her and muttering about having a word with the backwards mayor about proper punishments for thieves.
The feathered Fae stepped forward and the other four uniformed Fae positioned themselves in a circle around Zenith.
Her cheeks flamed as he searched her clothes and pockets, lingering over her curves. She should be used to the searches by now, but this time seemed different. Paden’s hands warmed her hips. When he squeezed her waist, she shuddered.
The looks of those inhabitants passing by added to her embarrassment. The condescension on the faces of those she’d asked for employment time and again. All They had all refused to give her a chance, forcing her to survive by stealing food for as long as she’d been stranded by her mother on Unseen Street.
Finally, Paden stepped back. “I found nothing.”
“Of course not. I know better. You saw me put it back.”
Paden’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t have any proof to the contrary, so he nodded. “You may go on your way. Try to stay out of trouble.”
She nodded, unable to dismiss the gleam in his eyes and unwilling to move until the little troop had gone about their business. The squad moved twenty paces away and Paden pressed something on his waist. They disappeared into the air.
After Zenith was certain they’d gone, she glanced toward Mother Hubbard. The old woman bustled about inside her shop. Zenith dropped to the ground, swiped the single piece of fruit from the neighboring bin, and jogged back toward the exit.
When she passed by Farg, she positioned herself in the middle of a wave of leaving shoppers and kept her eyes on the ground. She didn’t want to confront him about tipping off the authorities. He probably was doing his job the best way he knew how.
Zenith had to get back to Sam. Sam had probably already been dozing too long as it was. The girl had nodded off almost the minute she’d climbed back into bed.
But the footsteps had returned. When Zenith paused, they stopped. At the end of the alley, Zenith spun toward the last place she’d heard the sound behind her. Empty space greeted her. She scanned the alley.
“Come out, come out, little beastie,” Zenith sang. “I won’t hurt you.”
A moment later, a boy stepped out of the shadows behind a dumpster, wrapped in layers of rags and painfully thin. When he glanced up, he had the slit eyes of a reptile. He trembled and dropped his gaze to the ground.
“Dragon shifter?” Zenith murmured. “Your kind is hard to find these days.”
He studied his scaled toes but nodded. “Most worlds are too cold, miss.”
“This one isn’t?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know how to get home, miss.” He shivered again. “Or at least some place warmer. Hum fairies are the only ones that can make their own portals.”
“I doubt that.”
“Can’t afford Fae portal geodes, and I haven’t been able to figure out any other way. Do you know of any?”
Zenith thought a moment. He’d basically listed everything she knew about inter-world travel. “Fair enough,” she said.
He peered at her.
Zenith frowned. “Are you hungry?”
He nodded.
Zenith sighed. She shouldn’t give it to him. She needed food, and Sam did, too, but she’d been a beggar runt before, and Unseen Street wasn’t the kindest of places to be alone. Sam had made a world of difference for Zenith. Even if nothing changed, the feeling of two against the world made a difference. She understood that better than most.
She crouched down. “I don’t have any meat,” she said. “But I have something else.” Sh
e tugged the blackened apple from her pocket and held it out to him.
His eyes sparkled. “You’d let me have that?” he whispered.
Zenith nodded. She could always grab another one later. Or something else. Her sleight-of-hand skills never disappeared for long.
He swiped it from her hand and sank pointed teeth into the flesh. A tangy scent filled the air. He made it through half the fruit in two bites.
“Stop right there,” a deep voice bellowed.
The dragon shifter blinked once and then collapsed into a heap. A moment later, he launched himself into the air, holding the Stygian fruit in his claws.
Zenith chuckled and turned toward the voice. “Paden,” she said. “You’ve caught me.”
His mouth twisted in a sneering smile. “So I have.”
How could she defend herself against the team of Fae officers? Paden had caught her red-handed with the stolen merchandise. The evidence might have flown away but the memory of it hadn’t. What options did she have?
Paden took a pair of handcuffs from his belt and held it out to her. “We’ll take you in for questioning. I’m sure the mayor will release you tomorrow. You might even get a free meal.”
Zenith shook her head. She couldn’t go along, no matter how easy Paden promised the process would be. She had to get back to Sam. If she didn’t, Sam would sleep too long. Without Zenith summoning it, a magical sword coalesced, connected to her right arm. Her eyes widened. That hadn’t been what she meant to do at all.
Each of the Fae peacekeepers drew their own metal weapons. The moment the blades struck the air, magic engulfed them. Their eyes glinted eerily in the magical light.
“Crap,” Zenith whispered. She wasn’t a match for five Fae. She didn’t have to be a genius to understand that.
Hexes and Handcuffs: A Limited Edition Collection of Supernatural Prison Stories Page 9
