It wasn’t an easy transformation.
I’d been wing-bound, and if it hadn’t been for Torn and his razor-sharp claws, I’d likely be dead. The outer layer of a cat sidhe’s claws grow fresh with each retraction and extension, so there wasn’t a strong risk of unwanted psychic visions. But having your back cut open is unpleasant, no matter which way you slice it.
I’d managed to produce my wings, pushing them out through my back and retracting them back within the confines of my skin, during the course of my training with my uncle Kade. Of course, Torn had missed most of that while he languished in my uncle’s secret dungeon. He was in for a surprise.
I took a deep breath, and pushed my wings out between the large muscles of my back. The delicate edges were deceptively sharp, and they cut easily through my skin with very little bloodshed. I focused, one wing at a time, carefully unfurling the thin, translucent wings that marked me as my father’s daughter.
I rolled my shoulders, making my wings flutter, and pulled a glamour around me—a cloak that shimmered like the air above a bonfire. If I was embracing my wisp heritage, I might as well accept my mother’s gifts as well. My glamour gave me the appearance of Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness. Go big, or go home, as Jinx would say.
Father Michael gasped, and Torn swore an oath. I blinked, opening my eyes, and smiled.
“I’ll take the roof,” I said. I opened my hand, a tiny ball of flame spinning above my palm. “Unless you have a better idea?”
For the first time since I’d met him, Torn was speechless. I took a running leap and, with a snap of my wings, I was airborne.
“Safe travels, Princess,” Torn said, his voice a whisper against the rushing wind and the blood pounding in my ears. I wasn’t even sure if he’d said the words, or if it had been my imagination.
I whispered my reply, something I’d heard Jenna utter a dozen times, and aimed for the Emporium, determined to bring our kids home.
“Happy hunting.”
Chapter 30
I heard shouting at street level, coming from the front of the building where Torn was creating a distraction. Father Michael would be lurking nearby, waiting to get Arachne and Sparky to safety. I also hoped that with Arachne’s help, we’d be able to free Humphrey from Kaye’s control. Nobody deserved to be enslaved to a revenge-crazed witch, no matter what he may have been forced to do in her service.
I heard a growling rumble, and shuddered, jerking in the air as my wings fought to keep me upright. Humphrey may be a victim, but at the moment he was a potentially deadly threat—just like the glowing sigils below me.
Thank Mab, my second sight revealed the tracery of spells that stood between me and the storeroom skylight. The Emporium’s rooftop was covered in an interlocking web of mystical markings. I had no doubt that each glowing mark represented a terrifyingly painful means of death.
Unlike the surrounding buildings, there were no signs of birds, rodents, or insects. No wasp nests beneath the eaves, and no bird’s nests, or pigeons on the roof. Even the dust, soot, and grime that you’d expect to see on such an old building were missing.
I tugged at my gloves, sweat trickling down my back. If Arachne didn’t do something to take down those spells, I’d never make it through that skylight alive. Another rumbling growl came from the front of the building, and I frowned.
We were running out of time.
“Come on, kid,” I whispered.
I held my breath, and waited. My eyes darted from side to side and up and down, scanning the rooftop for a break in the Emporium’s magical defenses.
Three interwoven glowing sigils flickered and disappeared. I blinked, and let out a grunt of surprise. Arachne had done it. The spells were down, for now.
I ducked my head, and with a twitch of my wings, I dove straight at the skylight. I kept my eyes focused on that spot, ready to pull myself back at a moment’s notice if those glowing sigils began to flicker into existence.
As I grew closer to the rooftop, threatening magic tingled gratingly along my nerves. My body screamed out for me to retreat, but I forced myself further downward. Finally, after seconds that felt like days, I set down lightly on the edge of the skylight. I stepped gingerly, painfully aware of the sun’s position.
Not only was it growing late, bringing us closer to Kaye’s spell and the Wild Hunt’s attack, but I knew that if I allowed a shadow to fall on the storeroom at an inopportune time, it could mean Sparky’s life. If Kaye felt threatened, and believed Arachne guilty of betrayal, she wouldn’t hesitate to lash out.
Aware of the repercussions, I shifted my position and reached for the window latch with a gloved hand. I bit the inside of my cheek, undid the latch, swung the skylight inward, and froze.
A beetle settled on the wooden sill, its hard legs tapping a staccato rhythm into the stillness of the room. No alarm rang out, and I dared to duck my head into the darkened room. I let my eyes adjust, my faerie enhanced night-vision giving me better sight than a human, and scanned the dark room filled with boxes and crates below.
This was the place from Arachne’s vision. I recognized the boxes she’d used as a makeshift table and chairs for her little tea party. There were still crumbs scattered around the room, likely where Sparky had danced around while munching on cookies. The box he’d used as a chair was overturned, its contents spilling out onto the concrete floor.
Had Sparky bumped into it while dancing and playing? Or was there a more sinister explanation for the overturned box? Had there been a struggle? I could make myself crazy speculating over what had knocked the box over. One thing was certain.
They were gone.
Chapter 31
My phone vibrated, and I nearly dropped it through the open skylight as I fumbled it from my jacket pocket. I swore, voice barely a whisper, and held my breath as I scanned the room below. When there was no movement except for the beetle flying in lazy circles to the crumb-covered makeshift cardboard table, I checked my phone.
I had two messages.
The first was from Jinx asking how Sparky was, and telling me to hurry my ass up and get back to the industrial park. The second was from Father Michael. He’d finally tracked down Fern Greatoak.
If he wasn’t a priest, and I wasn’t a touch-phobe who was engaged to a jealous kelpie king, I’d kiss the man. According to his message, Arachne’s mother was on her way. She was also sending out the call to the sleeper Circle members to come out of hiding, and a message had finally been received by Circle members in Branford Falls.
Help was coming. I just hoped they’d get here in time. And while I didn’t doubt that the witches would help to rescue Arachne, I couldn’t place my faith in them to risk their lives for a demon. No, Sparky was my responsibility. He was my kid, and I was going to set him free.
Power poured into me in a rushing torrent, and I had to struggle to maintain control over my magic. Faeries treasure our children, perhaps more so even than humans, because our young are such a rare, precious thing. I don’t know how it happened in such a short time, but I’d come to think of Sparky as my own child.
I suppose it had something to do with the way we’d met that fateful day in an alley that smelled of piss and fear. His life had been threatened, and I’d stood up for the little tyke. He’d loved me unconditionally ever since, and, I had to admit, the feeling was mutual. Sparky was my child, my son, and I was Ivy Granger, the daughter of Will-o’-the-Wisp and Mab the Queen of Air and Darkness. I was a princess of Faerie, and the life of my child was once again threatened.
If Kaye harmed one floppy ear on that kid’s head, I’d make a funeral pyre of the Emporium and I’d watch the woman burn.
I shook my head, blinking down at the beetle tapping against the closed door inside the room below. There’d be time for punishment later. For now, I had to make it inside the Emporium alive.
I held my breath, palmed my throwing knives, and flew silently to the floor. With hardly a thought, I folded my wings in close, though I di
dn’t retract them. I’d learned early in my visit to Faerie that wisp wings could act as an antenna, and right now I needed all my senses on high alert.
I moved silently across the room, and turned my head to listen at the door. Even with my enhanced hearing, the shop beyond the storage room was silent. Holding one blade at the ready, I held my breath, counted to three, and turned the knob.
When the plastic skeletons didn’t spring to life, and the brooms didn’t immediately try to impale me, I let out a shaky breath and risked opening the door wide enough to step out into one of the many maze-like shop aisles. The shelving was stacked high with books, wands, herbs, and other witchy accoutrements.
I was so busy eyeing the magical paraphernalia that teetered precariously above my head that I didn’t see the black creature spring toward me until its claws nearly raked my face. I ducked my head, and spun.
That was close, too close. Heart racing, my gaze darted up and down the aisle, but it was just the two of us. Midnight, Kaye’s large, black feline familiar, stared at me with unblinking green eyes.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I whispered. I smiled, and patted my pockets, searching for something the cat might like. “Want a cracker?”
Midnight hissed, hackles lifting, and I spun to see what had scared the cat. A beetle landed on a shelf, and I frowned. I was sick of this damn hex. The sooner I got Arachne to lift it, the better.
I turned to soothe the cat, but Midnight was gone.
“Damn,” I muttered.
Had Kaye been looking out through Midnight’s eyes? Was the cat reporting back to Kaye now? If so, there was no time to lose.
I slid forward, rushing as fast as I could without tripping or knocking something over. It was harder than it should have been, a sign that the near-sentient shop was on high alert. The Emporium had been layered in protective magic for so many decades, the building itself often seemed to have a life of its own.
Everywhere I ran, masks leered and normally inanimate objects reached out to ensnare me while others rolled underfoot to trip me or block my path. More than once, an entire section of hardcover spell books and shelving toppled, trying to capture me beneath the heavy remnants of long dead trees. Thank Mab for fae reflexes, or I would have been trapped beneath a mountain of malevolent books and shelving—a tomb of arcane tomes.
I shook off the urge to giggle, and leapt over the final barrier in the ridiculous obstacle course. So much for stealth. It was unlikely that Kaye was unaware of my approach now. Even if Midnight hadn’t reported my break-in, I’d made enough noise running the gauntlet of animated shop wares to raise the dead.
Heart in my throat, I slipped through the beaded curtain and into the hallway leading to Kaye’s spell kitchen. The kitchen door was on my left, and Kaye’s office was further down on the right. The silence of the hallway, after the incessant marching of books and whirlwind of crashing objects in the outer shop, was oppressive.
Blood pounded in my ears, and I took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t work. There’s no training, no magic ability or power that prepares you for facing a friend’s ultimate betrayal. Nothing that can prepare you for seeing harm come to a child you love. So no one can blame me for the pitiful sound that escaped my lips as I crossed the threshold into Kaye’s kitchen.
Surprisingly, there was no physical pain upon entry. Apparently, I was still keyed into the kitchen wards as a friend. But that wasn’t much comfort. Not with the disturbing tableau, like a scene from a nightmare, frozen before me.
Sparky was laid out on a table beside the center of the spell circle, his tiny form curled onto its side as if he were merely resting. But even I could see that wasn’t the case. All the hoping in the world couldn’t erase the dark, black-tinged red liquid that oozed from his neck and wrists. He was being bled and, from the volume of blood, it had been going on for some time.
As I lurched further into the room and closer to the table, Kaye’s head swung in my direction, but Sparky didn’t so much as twitch. Not a good sign. The kid was full of energy and unbridled joy. Even in sleep, he was always moving, always sucking his thumb, rolling in his cocoon of blankets, or giggling. But he was silent now.
A tear rolled down my cheek, and my body lit with fire as my wisp power raged within me, begging for release.
“Where is the piece of Herne?” Kaye asked. “Give it to me, girl. This is no time for sentimentality, especially for Hell spawn.”
She waved me forward, tattooed hands twitching eagerly. It was then that I noticed Kaye wasn’t the one holding the ritual dagger. Arachne held the athame, its blade tainted with blood. My body shook, anger and betrayal and grief raging war beneath my skin.
I could end this now. With a single thought, I could burn us all and erase the pain. I blinked, and shook my head.
“How could you?” I asked, voice ragged.
“Oh, Goddess,” Arachne said, choking out a sob. “It’s not what you think. It’s not what it looks like, Ivy. I swear.”
“Funny,” I said, lips drawing into a hard line and voice going cold. “It looks like you’re bleeding my son.”
“N-n-no,” she said. “Really. He’s fine…he’s just…sleeping.”
Her wide eyes darted wildly between me and Kaye as she held the dagger out in front of her. Not that the weapon would do much good against a powerful witch or faerie. The only thing that stayed my hand was Arachne’s sudden movement to place herself between Sparky and Kaye. Was there a chance, even a shred of hope that she was trying to protect him?
“Sleeping?” Kaye asked, her voice rising into a shriek.
“K-k-kaye said to sacrifice him, to use his blood to fuel the binding spell, but I couldn’t do that,” Arachne said. “I would never do that. Dark magic is wrong.”
I wanted to believe her, but that was a difficult leap of faith considering what my eyes were telling me. I stepped closer, knife in one hand and a tiny ball of flame swirling in the other. Was there really a chance that Sparky might still be alive? If so, throwing fireballs was too damn risky, and that might be exactly why she was telling me that the kid was okay.
“But the blood,” I said, waving my hand toward Sparky’s bleeding, lifeless body.
“I slipped skullcap, a paralytic, and a sleeping draught into a batch of cookies he ate,” she said. “Then I swapped out the real ritual dagger for a fake one we sell in the shop, and filled it with a mixture of fake blood and chocolate syrup.”
A prop dagger that squirted fake blood was exactly the kind of thing they sold in the Emporium gift shop. Oberon’s eyes, could Sparky really just be sleeping off the effects of a paralytic herb?
For Kaye and Arachne’s sake, they sure as Hell better hope so.
Chapter 32
I rushed toward Sparky, my every thought focused on checking for a pulse and to see for myself that he was breathing. If Arachne was lying and Sparky had been harmed, I’d burn this place to the ground and spread the ashes in Tech Duinn.
I stumbled as a blast of cold wind knocked me into a nearby countertop. A fiery pain burst from my right hip and wing, but I didn’t have time to examine the injuries.
Kaye strode across the kitchen, hair lifting in snake-like tendrils to writhe around her head as her fingers danced to form arcane symbols in the air. The jury was still out on Arachne’s involvement, but Kaye was definitely an active threat, and she looked crazier than a pixed bugbear. She’d crossed the line from friend to foe, and an involuntary shudder trembled along my spine. I had a bad feeling that someone was going to die.
I sure as Hell didn’t want it to be me.
Panting, I pushed against the wall of wind that continued to assail us, and closed the short distance to where Arachne stood in front of Sparky. Even if Arachne had more magic knowledge than she’d let on, I doubted she could hold Kaye off for long. Too bad her mother and the other Circle members hadn’t yet arrived. We could use some backup.
If Kaye decided to do more than toy with us, we were toast.
r /> “You foolish, spoiled, ungrateful girl!” Kaye yelled.
Crap, so much for games. Kaye was escalating, fast.
I bit the inside of my cheek, teeth humming with power, and unfurled my wings to fill the remaining space between me and the table at my back. Ignoring the searing pain in my right wing, I drew more power to me and I began to weave a wall of protective flame around me, Arachne, and the table that held Sparky.
“Oh Goddess,” Arachne mumbled.
I flicked my eyes to her, and then to Sparky, before snapping my attention back to Kaye. But in that quick glance I’d seen what had Arachne worried, and it wasn’t just Kaye’s tantrum. Not only were we facing down a powerful witch, but the paralytic that Arachne had fed to Sparky had worn off. He’d started to move in his sleep. How soon until he woke up?
Even now his fingers rubbed together, sparks forming between them. He was a demon, and I’d called a wall of flame into the room. The kid hadn’t grown into his powers yet, but it was possible that he was responding to his proximity to the fire—like calling to like.
“You got any more of that sleeping draught?” I asked.
I had to shout to be heard over the howling of the unnatural wind that Kaye continued to blast us with. Judging from her scowl, we were giving Kaye more trouble than she expected, but she’d soon think of a way around our defenses, and when she did, we were as good as dead, or worse.
Arachne shook her head, keeping her eyes on Kaye. Damn. As if sunset wasn’t already a ticking time bomb, now we had to get this over with before Sparky woke up. He’d be more of a hindrance than a help in this fight, and I had a fierce desire to protect him from ever knowing what Kaye tried to do to him. No child should ever suffer that kind of trauma.
I’d grown up feeling abandoned, and thinking that I was worth less than the other, normal children. I thought that my father leaving and the distance between me and my parents meant that I was unlovable. How would it have felt to learn that a woman who had begun to be like a surrogate grandmother had then tried to kill me? I couldn’t imagine the damage that kind of revelation would have, and I wasn’t going to find out.