Chapter 28

 

 

AT ONE POINT I became aware of the sensation of movement and felt that I was being carried. My eyelids cracked open, and I could have sworn I was in Oliver’s arms. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming.

The next time I awoke, it was in a soft bed in a nearly dark room. There were quiet mechanical whirs. Warm humidity permeated the air, along with the damp-stone smell I associated with the mineral sauna.

I lay there, blinking in the darkness as the details of the battle slowly crept back into my mind. Overhead, I saw a canopy suspended by four posts on the corners of the bed. I recognized the bedroom where I’d spend the night before the battle.

With stiff movements, I pushed up to my elbows. I had to pee like nobody’s business. My ankle had been bound and splinted, and it hurt to walk on it, but it had already healed considerably.

When I limped out of the on-suite bathroom, someone was standing in the bedroom.

“Emmaline!” I barked. “Don’t be such a damn creeper!”

She rushed to my side, pulling my arm across her shoulders. “You’re not supposed be up,” she said with a fretting tone. “They’re going to kill me for letting you walk around.”

“It was that or piss the bed,” I said sourly.

Since my blood was flowing and some of the fog of sleep had burned away, every fiber of my being hurt. The worst of it was centered on the left side of my lower back, where my rock armor had split under Darion’s blow. It was like a line of burning needles driven bone-deep.

“Did he die?” I asked, letting her ease me back onto the bed.

“No,” she said. “But he’s not going into battle anytime soon.”

I let out a long breath as I settled back into the pillows and then winced at the pressure on my injury. I shifted to my side. Fatigue still sat heavy in my bones.

“I should go let the others know you’re awake,” she said.

I mumbled something unintelligible and then gratefully sank into sleep.

The next time I woke, the curtains had been pulled back, and pale morning light glowed in the window. I moved under the covers, testing the pain of my injuries. I still felt like shit, but a little less so than before.

The bedroom door pushed open a few inches, and Oliver’s face appeared.

“I thought I heard you moving,” he said. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes searching my face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I survived a plane crash.”

His head bobbed. “Sounds about right. Want food?”

Right then I realized my stomach felt as if it were trying to eat itself.

“For the love of Oberon, yes. Bring me all the food.”

He left and came back with a tray piled with sandwiches. Just as I dug in, another head poked through the doorway.

“Okay if I come in?” Maxen asked.

I flipped my fingers, beckoning him inside, but didn’t stop shoving food in my face.

I swallowed. “Is King Periclase backing off now, or am I going to have to kick more Duergar ass?” I asked.

He grinned and then inclined his head in a little bow. “The High Court dropped Periclase’s petition on you, and even better, Nicole was able to demonstrate rock armor this morning to prove she has New Garg blood.”

I let out a relieved breath. “Periclase could still be her father, though.”

“Yes, but anyone able to form rock armor has enough New Garg blood to swear to the Stone Order,” Maxen said. “It makes it possible for her to stay.”

“What about the other stuff, Periclase trying to absorb the Stone Order into his kingdom?”

“That is still an issue of debate,” he said. His expression sobered. “But no one knows where King Oberon is.”

I glanced between Maxen and my father. “What do you mean?”

“He’s gone. Oberon’s nowhere to be found in Faerie.”

I frowned. “So, what, everything going through the High Court just stalls?”

Maxen held up his palms. “Titania is apparently refusing to deal with it. She says it’s his mess and she’s not going to do his work for him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fricking Fae.”

“That’s not your problem, in any case,” Maxen said. He drew a breath but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he turned to Oliver. “Would you mind giving me a moment alone with Petra?”

My brows shot up. Oliver looked a little taken aback, too, but he rose and left, closing the door behind him.

Maxen took Oliver’s place on the edge of the bed. “The conflict with the Duergar isn’t going to go away just because Oberon’s decided to disappear. Marisol is going to be pushing harder to establish us as a kingdom, but it’s going to take even more work if Oberon isn’t here to make a ruling. After your victory, it would be very good for the Stone Order if you stayed here.”

I frowned. “Why should my presence make any difference?”

“We need to look as unified as possible as a people,” Maxen said. “Having our champion cut and run to the other side of the hedge as soon as the battle’s over doesn’t look very good.”

A small flare of anger lit in my chest. I put my sandwich down. “Seriously, Maxen? After what I just did, you’re telling me I owe more?”

“I know it seems unfair to ask, to pressure you like this, but this is life in Faerie. As a people, we have to give everything we have, or the New Gargoyles don’t stand a chance of establishing our independence.”

My mouth worked, but I didn’t respond.

“I know you’re out of money, Petra. And I know you’re on probation with the Guild,” Maxen said quietly. “Do you really have a choice?”

I looked off to the side. That stung.

“There’s always a choice,” I said, my voice hard. “And the thing is, even as champion, I’d have no freedom here. I’d have to quit hunting vamps. Do you understand how that would feel like a betrayal of my mother? And Marisol would tell me what to do and when to do it, and I’d have to obey her every order.”

He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “That’s Faerie. That’s the plight of our people. And here’s the thing, something that Oliver doesn’t even know yet. Marisol is going to start calling in New Gargs at the fall equinox, all the changelings and all the Order-sworn who live on the other side of the hedge. You’re going to be in the first group summoned. You can wait until then if you want to, but you will be called back to the fortress, and you’ll have to stay for as long as she wants you here. If you do it by choice before you’re forced, you’ll be rewarded for it. If not, you won’t be happy with the result.”

“Or I refuse the call,” I said sullenly.

“You wouldn’t.”

He was right. Refusing such an order from my sovereign meant more or less giving up my magic and all my ties to Faerie. I’d be permanently exiled from this side of the hedge.

My anger flared again, but I tamped it down, keeping tight control.

I pierced him with a cold look. “You’re practically blackmailing me, you and your mother. Not only that, you’re doing it while I’m sitting here, unable to walk under my own power, with my wounds still fresh from the arena.”

He blinked, his eyes tightening, but didn’t argue. He also didn’t apologize.

“I can’t help the timing,” he said finally.

“That’s all you have to say?”

He stood slowly. I could tell he wasn’t happy, but I was all out of sympathy for Maxen and his mother.

“Finish your business on the other side of the hedge,” he said. “Then come home.”

He turned and left.

I started to reach for my sandwich, but when I saw my own hands trembling with unspent anger, I curled my fingers into fists.

In less than a month, Marisol would summon me here and take away my freedom for as long as she wanted to. She’d force me to quit hunting vamps. And really, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. I’d have to figure out a way to ride it out. To get released from her call. But for the moment, I was too weak to do much of anything but lie there and feel pissed.

I had other visitors into the day and evening, but their congratulations were tainted by my exchange with Maxen.

As the evening gave way to night, I was surprised to see Nicole come through the door.

After asking about my injuries, we fell into awkward silence.

“Someone said you’re going to be leaving?” she asked after a moment.

“I live on the other side of the hedge,” I said. “I’d planned to return there, but it looks like I may not get to stay.”

“Are they putting you under house arrest, too?” she asked wryly.

She was standing next to the bed, and she fidgeted, moving her feet around in different turned-out positions.

“In a manner of speaking,” I said. I eyed her movements. Something about them was plucking at my memory. “Congrats on the stone armor, by the way.”

She pushed her fingers though her hair in a gesture that was eerily similar to a gesture I often made. “Oh yeah, your tip helped a lot. Now I don’t have to worry about going back to the Duergar, at least.”

“Periclase will probably still argue that he’s your father, but you’re right. You can stay if you want to, now that you’ve shown you have sufficient New Garg blood.” I looked up at her, suddenly realizing why her fidgeting seemed to have a form to it. “Were you a dancer?”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Ten years in the San Francisco Ballet. Now I’m an instructor. Or I was. You know, before I came here. I’ve probably lost my job by now.”

I let out a short laugh. “We might have more in common than I thought.”

“You have a background in dance?”

“Oh, Oberon, no. I’d look like an ox in a tutu. But I’m on the verge of losing my job, too.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do when the time comes?” I asked. I knew it was still early in the homecoming process, but I was curious about where her mind was on the matter.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll go back,” she said. “Probably have to find a new apartment and a new job, but . . .” She looked around the room and shivered a little, stuffing her hands into the front pocket of her jeans. “This is all just so strange.”

Pretty sure. Probably.

I hid a smile. She was going to stay. I’d bet money on it, if I had any to put down. It would be hard for her, but I could see it in her eyes. She knew this—Faerie—was the thing she’d been missing her whole life. The secret that had been whispering through her mind, but she couldn’t quite hear.

If I could just come around to some of that acceptance about staying here, my life would be a hell of a lot easier.

I spent the next two days resting and healing, and by the third day, I’d had enough sitting around on my ass to last the rest of my life.

In spite of the protests of people around me, I gathered my things, hopped on Vincenzo, and made my way back to Boise.

Lochlyn had sent me notes while I was recuperating. She’d packed up all of our things, and she’d taken her stuff and moved out of our apartment. She was couch surfing with some of her nightclub friends until she found a job. My stuff was still at our old place, which I discovered had been padlocked.

I drew Mort, punched a little magic into the sword, and jabbed it into the lock. Fortunately, our landlord was a human normal with no magic ability, and he was too cheap to pay for a magic-resistant lock. The mechanism popped open, and I pulled it off and dropped it on the ground.

Inside, the place was empty except for the thrift-store furniture in my room and a couple of boxes that Lochlyn had packed for me, which I knew contained only clothes and a few toiletries. It struck me that I didn’t really keep any personal things with me on this side of the hedge. Anything from my childhood was back in my tiny quarters in the fortress. Had some part of me expected I’d someday have to return to there? Maybe. But I’d always felt that getting criminal vampires off the streets was more important than Faerie politics. It was my way of paying homage to the mother I never had a chance to know, whose difficult, young life had been cut short by a vamp. I might be able to save some other kid from losing a parent the way I had.

I had no way to move the furniture, and it wasn’t valuable anyway, so I left it. The two boxes got bungeed to the top of Vincenzo’s cargo box.

Just as I was about to swing my leg over the seat and start up my scooter, there was a discontented yowl behind me. I turned to see Emerald sitting a couple of feet away, the end of her tail twitching and her green eyes flashing at me. I put the kickstand down and went over to her.

Squatting within arm’s reach, but not too close, I reached out a hand. “Hey Emmy. I’m all out of treats, girl. Sorry about that.” She moved close enough to poke her head under my outstretched hand, and I scratched her ears. “I’ve got to take off, but I hope I’ll be back.”

I straightened, and she scampered off around the corner of the building. That was the thing about cats—they didn’t truly need you, so your comings and goings didn’t really concern them much.

I’d only gone about two blocks when my cell phone rang. It was Gus, so I answered.

“It wasn’t him.” My boss made a noisy, nasally sigh.

“What wasn’t who?”

“The ashes in the box,” my boss said. “They aren’t Van Zant’s remains.”

My jaw tightened. Bryna had somehow played me. How in the hell had she gotten around the promise? You couldn’t lie your way through a Faerie oath. It wasn’t possible.

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” Gus said. “You lost your other assignment, the object-find. But I pulled some strings. If you can bring the vamp in alive before midnight, you’ll get the full bounty.”

My pulse jumped at the challenge.

“Thanks, boss. I’m on it,” I said. I hung up and stuffed my phone back in its pocket.

My mind kicked into gear and I sped up, heading to the doorway in the parking garage downtown. I knew where to look for the vamp, and I thought I even knew how Bryna had slithered her way out of our agreement. Van Zant had most likely tricked her, faking his death. Bryna had believed the remains she gave me were his.

I took Vincenzo through the doorway and emerged in the MonsterFit lobby near the Las Vegas Strip. Van Zant was likely hiding out, from Bryna and maybe from others, too. Plus, it was mid-afternoon and still broad daylight. Even daywalking vamps usually preferred to stay out of the peak sunlight hours. My mark was most likely holing up in a place where he felt comfortable and safe.

I parked near the Millennium Hotel, but instead of going through the main lobby, I went through one of the casino entrances. The place had a high-stakes poker game, and knowing Van Zant’s reputation as a player, he wouldn’t be able to resist. I glamoured myself into my Penelope persona and found a human bartender to chat with, a young guy who was all too happy to show off what he knew about the high-money tables in the back rooms. I nursed watered-down cocktails and spent the next hour learning where the game was held, where the players came in, and what time they usually started rolling in. Then I spent another hour scoping the place and confirming what the bartender had told me. It took some sweet-talking and maneuvering on my part, but I managed to gain access to one of the back hallways where I suspected Van Zant would go from his penthouse elevator to the high-stakes room.

In the end, Van Zant practically walked right into my arms.

The vamp and his entourage were in great spirits as they strolled toward the game. I’d been leaning against the wall, the credit-card-sized bounty certificate hidden in my hand. I pushed away from the wall, putting on a lazy smile, and strolled toward Van Zant and his crew. Several of them took notice of me, looking me up and down.

Van Zant looked scrawnier than I remembered him from the attack on the dark street in the Duergar realm, when I’d cut off his hand. In fact, he didn’t look like much at all. I suddenly realized this was not the creature of my childhood nightmares. He was just some playboy poker player who thought he could make it big gambling and selling vamp blood.

“Are you professional poker players?” I asked in a sultry voice. “Because I think that’s sooo hot.”

“Yeah, beautiful,” one of them said. “You wanna be my good luck charm?”

My eyes flicked over to Van Zant. He still sported a bandaged stump on one arm, where I’d removed his hand. “I’ve got my eye on that one,” I crooned.

I felt the shiver of his glamour in the air as he tried to turn his charms on me, obviously not realizing I was Fae.

The group parted so I could move closer to my mark, and I pretended to be drawn in by Van Zant’s mesmerization glamour. My smile widened as our eyes met. I got close to him, looking deeply into his dark eyes. Then I lifted my hand, flashing the bounty card in his face.

He looked down in confusion as the certificate lit up with yellow-orange magic that expanded toward him. It rapidly surrounded him in a cloud, and by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. His identity was confirmed.

The magical mist blurred, shrank, and coalesced around his wrists, securing him in cuffs.

I gave him a flirtatious wink. “Gotcha.”

Van Zant’s entourage backed away and then split, some of them hurrying back the way they’d come, and others sidling around me and then zipping toward the poker room.

I pulled out my phone, which I’d hidden in my bra, to contact the Guild and arrange transport of the apprehended mark. I let my Penelope glamour dissolve away.

“How’s that hand regenerating, Van Zant?” I asked as I raised my phone to my ear.

He sneered, his dark eyes flashing with fury.

Back in Boise, I completed the paperwork while Van Zant was processed and then stood outside the Guild in the dark with my phone, refreshing my bank balance every few seconds.

The bounty money showed up at ten minutes to midnight. I stared at the number for a few seconds, reveling in the satisfaction of it, before stuffing my phone back into its pouch.

They money had come too late to keep the apartment, and it wouldn’t have been enough to sustain me and Lochlyn for more than a couple of weeks, anyway, with what I already owed on Vincenzo’s repairs and back payments on rent and utilities. In spite of the exception Gus had swung allowing me another shot at Van Zant, I was still on probation with the Guild for failing to complete the object-find assignment. That meant no real cash flow for at least a few weeks.

I saw the writing on the wall, and it said in big block letters that I was going to have to spend some time at the fortress.

It was okay. I already had the start of my nest egg that would fund my move back out of Faerie. In the meantime, there was work to be done on behalf of the New Gargs, and in my new role as the Order’s champion, I had some clout. It was an important time for my people, and for the near future, I’d focus on doing some good for them—for us.

I revved Vincenzo and sped toward the doorway that would take me to San Francisco and my home-for-now in the stone fortress.

 

Next in the Blood of Stone Series:

STONE BLOOD LEGACY

 

Before Petra Maguire and the New Gargoyles, there was Ella Grey.

Don’t miss the Ella Grey Series, the urban fantasy story set in the Earthly realm that brings us to the Cataclysm and begins a new era of magic!

 

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~ ~ ~

 

BOOKS BY JAYNE FAITH

 

Ella Grey Series (complete)

urban fantasy

Stone Cold Magic

Dark Harvest Magic

Demon Born Magic

Blood Storm Magic

 

Shattered Magic Novels

urban fantasy

Blood of Stone

Stone Blood Legacy

Rise of the Stone Court

 

Sapient Salvation Series (complete)

dystopian romance

The Selection

The Awakening

The Divining

The Claiming

 

Love Across Stars Novels

science fiction romance

The Seas of Time

The Laws of Attraction

 

Magic Currents (dystopian fairy tale)

 

~ ~ ~

Preview of Stone Cold Magic

Chapter 1

 

IT WAS A pleasant summer night, but I walked with my fists stuffed deep in the pockets of my lightweight jacket and my head bent as if leaning into a stiff, chilly wind. I paused at the end of 12th Street where the mid-century bungalow houses stopped and the little shops began. Murky shapes feathered the edges of my peripheral vision, moving in a slow, curling dance like wisps of campfire smoke. There were moments, even long stretches, when the phantom shapes faded into the background of my awareness. But every time I noticed them anew, my insides chilled and gave a little lurch.

I tried to convince myself that the shadows framing my sight were meaningless. More than once, I’d sternly told myself they were just misfires of my optic nerves, artifacts of having been clinically dead for eighteen minutes. My brain had been deprived of oxygen, and there were bound to be some lingering effects. Hell, what were a few blurry dark shapes when I could have suffered serious brain damage—or not come back at all? But none of my internal cajoling had worked particularly well. Ever since I’d opened my eyes on a gurney with a sheet pulled up over my head, the shadows had been there. And as much as I wished it were otherwise, I couldn’t help feeling that the smoky shapes were alive. They lurked, an ever-present reminder that sure, I may have cheated death. But I’d brought something back with me.

It was odd, knowing I’d been dead, queued up for the morgue, and yet somehow escaped the cold clutch of the grave to walk away from the hospital and return to my little apartment and the usual rhythms of life. I was like one of those drowning victims you sometimes hear about on the news, a still body with no pulse pulled from icy water and then miraculously revived. I knew I was lucky. I was beyond fortunate to be alive. Except something wasn’t right.

I shivered and tucked my chin to my chest. Nope, not right at all.

With the dancing shadows framing my sight came horrific nightmares, jerky, unfocused visions of death that plagued my dreams when I slept and my thoughts when I woke. In the two weeks since the accident that had temporarily killed me, I’d become so sleep deprived—and, frankly, creeped out by the dreams—I’d finally decided I had to do something. I’d waited to see if my head would clear, hoping that during my forced medical leave I’d get back to normal. But it hadn’t happened, and I couldn’t wait any longer. Tomorrow was my first day back at my job as a Demon Patrol officer, and I needed to be fresh and clear-headed.

That was what brought me to where I stood—the hope of finding relief. The particular segment of 12th Street before me was known locally as Crystal Ball Lane. It was lined with small shops offering magical cures, a place normals came furtively seeking love potions, healing charms, and money spells. Ordinarily, most normals shunned the use of such things. They believed magic was responsible for tearing the world open twenty-nine years ago and letting in the hellish chaos of demons, the vampire virus, and the zombie virus. And, well, I couldn’t blame normals for their prejudice because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Those with magical ability like me—witches, or crafters as I preferred to call us—tended to see stores such as the ones on Crystal Ball Lane with disdain. They were the equivalent of magical tourist traps for the desperate and beneath the notice of crafters. But I needed something to eradicate the nightmares, to expel whatever grave-thing was clinging to me, and I didn’t have enough magic ability to stir up a spell or a charm to help myself.

I pulled out my phone and pressed one of the side buttons, and it awoke with a cool white glow. It had vibrated against my hand three times since I’d left my parked truck a few blocks away, and each time the guilty little knot in my stomach tightened a touch more.

The device buzzed again as I held it, and a new text from Deb flashed.

Ella!! I’m an empath. You can’t trick me. Spill it, lady. What’s wrong?

There were two little frowny faces at the end.

I ruefully shoved the phone back in my pocket.

It was almost uncanny how Deb’s texts had started coming through as soon as I’d hopped in my truck to seek help on Crystal Ball Lane. I’d talked to her earlier—she’d called to see how I was feeling about heading back to work—and of course Deb being Deb she’d picked up on the fact that I was having trouble with something. I didn’t possess her intuition or empathic talent, but I could tell she had her own worries. It wasn’t any magical sixth sense on my part, just an instinct borne of many years of friendship. Her voice took on a particular tightness when she was having trouble with her husband Keith, and I’d be damned if I was going to add to her burden. So I’d insisted that I was fine, knowing she didn’t fully believe me.

I entered the first block of the shops, eyeing the neon signs that advertised Tarot readings, herbal remedies, healing crystals, and all manner of magical cures and spells. The store I was looking for, Nature’s Light, was a few blocks down. I’d checked out the website and saw the owner offered a variety of services, aura cleansing among them. I’d tried the phone number but never got an answer. Most of the businesses on the Lane kept late hours, and I hoped Nature’s Light would be no different.

My phone vibrated again. I felt bad about ignoring Deb, but she didn’t know the full extent of my problems, and I was hoping to eliminate them so that I could avoid telling her altogether.

She knew I’d been off since my accident. When she pressed me, I made a vague mention of insomnia. But I left out the smoky forms around the edges of my vision, the weird throbbing in my forehead. I hadn’t mentioned the dreams, either, and it was partly due to my difficulty trying to describe them, even to myself, because I couldn’t shake the sense that they weren’t mine. They were like films shot by a camera that was held by an unknown hand, images that seemed to come through the eyes of someone—or something—else. The other, as I’d begun to call it. And they weren’t just visual—they were often laden with a heavy smell, a stomach-turning mix of wet leather, sulfur, and the metallic tang of blood.

Deb had given me the name of a hedge witch and made me promise I’d make an appointment. I suspected I needed a remedy stronger than a hedge witch’s herbs, but Deb’s suggestion had prompted the idea to look up other types of services. I wasn’t convinced an aura cleansing would do the trick, either, but I had to start somewhere.

The soft sound of movement to my left brought my low-top leather boots to a scuffing halt. I sucked in a breath, and my heart thumped hard at the side of my throat. With a familiar, automatic motion, my hand instantly shifted from my pocket to my service stun gun at my hip. Some part of my mind knew that this was mostly likely perfectly normal street noise, but since my accident I’d gotten jumpy, startling so easily it was sometimes embarrassing.

As my pulse quickened, I squinted into the deeper darkness between two buildings. The center of my forehead thumped faintly, another odd post-mortem symptom that had been plaguing me on and off.

Something dark and bulky moved.

I flipped the strap on the holster with my thumb so I could draw out the gun if I needed it, and as an afterthought, I sent my senses through the bottoms of my feet and into the ground to pull up a thread of earth magic. Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have even bothered. My weak-ass abilities barely even registered on the Magic Aptitude Scale and certainly didn’t give me much in the way of protection. Crystal Ball Lane was situated along a stretch of ley line, an underground vein where magic concentrated and flowed, that enhanced my abilities by a smidgeon, but not enough to properly shield myself against attack.

Movement again.

Just as I was on the verge of calling out and demanding that the lurker show himself, a large dog crept partway into the weak pallor cast by an orange neon sign across the street. We watched each other for a beat or two. The dog’s tail waved back and forth, and he panted, his mouth stretching into a doggy smile. His eyes glowed like embers, reflecting the light of the signs nearby.

Assured that he wasn’t going to attack me, I released the magic thread. My hand relaxed on the gun.

I nodded at the dog. “Careful of the cars, big guy. Drivers can’t see you too well in the dark,” I said, as if he’d understand.

Voices ahead sent him scuttling back away from the street and my attention whipping toward the new noise. Damn, but I was jittery these days. I shook out my hands, as if trying to fling away some of my tension, and peered ahead.

A group of boys, jostling each other and laughing, had spilled out onto the sidewalk. By their heights and builds, I guessed they were around fourteen. I grimaced. A pack of kids out this late, and right around the age when their magical aptitude, if they possessed any, would be emerging? I’d bet my paycheck they were up to no good.

The jeering voice of the biggest one confirmed my suspicion and quickened my pace toward them.

The boys had circled around, trapping one of their own. The thin, small one in the middle had the hood of his sweatshirt up and was getting shoved around like a pinball.

My hand back on my stun gun, I sped up to a jog. “Hey . . . hey!”

I got closer and saw the kid they were picking on was actually a girl. Anger spiked through my chest and I yelled again, but the ring of boys was too caught up in its bullying to hear me.

When I reached the mob, I grabbed the shoulder of the nearest kid, pulling him back and breaking the circle. The boys finally looked up.

I pulled out my gun and waved it around for effect. “Go pick on someone your own size, you little apes.” I drew myself up to my full five-foot-ten-plus-boot-heel and glowered down at them.

The big boy, the tallest by a few inches, shoved his hand across his snub nose and gave me a derisive once-over. He glanced at my weapon but didn’t even blink. “We don’t have to do what you say.”

Strong currents of green earth magic swirled around his hands as he curled them into fists. The kid had a decent level of magical aptitude, but he appeared to enjoy using it for the purposes of bullying and intimidation. Great. In a depressing flash, I could practically see his future—Supernatural Crimes would eventually haul him in for gross misuse of magic, or maybe something worse, and he’d either spend time in prison or get stripped of his ability. Maybe both. One side of his upper lip lifted in a sneer that was so exaggerated I might have laughed if I wasn’t so ticked off. I stared at him for a split second, surprised by how brazenly he stood his ground. Then I reached to my belt and pulled off my badge. A faint tingle of magic stirred against my palm as I tilted the charmed object so my credentials illuminated on the sidewalk:

 

Demon Patrol Officer

City of Boise, Idaho

Gabriella Grey

Badge #889475

 

One of his little henchmen sucked in a breath. “Oh shit, she’s a cop.”

Snub Nose snorted out a scoff. “Ooo, Gabriella Grey, demon police,” he mocked in a falsetto, further raising my ire. He turned to the other kid. “She ain’t real police. We ain’t breaking the law anyway, don’t be such a puss.”

I pulled out my phone. “You’re out after curfew, and that’s automatic jail time. I’m going to need the names and numbers of your parents. I’ll let them know where they can visit you in prison.” There was a curfew law, but the other part was my own little enhancement for the purposes of getting them to scatter.

One kid shuffled back a few steps and then turned and hightailed it down the sidewalk, his arms pumping hard. Others followed. After a few seconds only Snub Nose, his victim, and I were left.

He lunged at me, and I automatically jumped back, but not far enough to elude the wad of spit he hocked. It landed with a splat on the toe of my right boot.

“Little twerp,” I muttered, trying to shake the saliva off my shoe. Instead of flying off as I’d hoped, it just dribbled off the side.

With a final sneer, the ringleader jogged backward a few steps and then chased after his crew. I watched him go and allowed myself a moment of satisfaction. As I followed his progress, I caught sight of the Nature’s Light sign, illuminated by tubes of blue neon, half a block away and across the street. A card in the glass door displayed the word OPEN.

I faced the girl, leaning in with concern. “You okay?” I asked, clipping my badge back on my belt. “You shouldn’t be out alone at night.”

She was dressed in a too-big pullover sweatshirt and the hood had fallen back, exposing wispy pale blond hair escaping from the sides of her sagging ponytail. Shaking her head once, she stepped forward, and it didn’t take an empath to feel the desperation that seemed to shroud her. It gathered like two rain puddles in her soulful eyes. She took another hesitant step and then reached out as if to grasp my forearm but stopped short of touching me.

“My brother,” she said, her voice already watery as tears began to pool in her eyes, causing my chest to catch in reaction. “He’s in trouble, and I don’t know what to do. That’s why I came out here. Please, Officer Grey, you have to help me.”

I glanced down the block just in time to see the blue neon Nature’s Light sign extinguish. There was movement at the door, and a hand reached out and flipped the OPEN sign over.

Sorry! We’re CLOSED

A colorful string of curses streamed through my mind. For a second I thought about making a run for it, banging on the door before the proprietor left and offering to pay extra for an after-hours aura cleansing. Then I looked back at the girl and my heart clenched. If she’d said anything else, I probably could have resisted, told her I’d help after I’d finished my own errand. But the despair in the way she’d said “my brother” was piercingly familiar and impossible for me to brush off.

Resigned, I felt my shoulders drop. So much for my hopes of getting back to normal before I had to return to work. My aura would have to remain unclean for at least another day.

I gave her a small smile of encouragement. “Where’s your brother?”

“Upstairs.” She pointed to a metal staircase in the alley.

I nodded at her to go ahead and stifled a sigh. I’d missed my chance, and I’d just have to hope the other allowed me a decent night’s sleep. I didn’t relish the thought of finally returning to work only to drag my exhausted ass through the day.

As I went after her, I glanced back in time to see the big dog poke his head around the corner of the building to watch us. But in the next blink, he was gone.

The throbbing in my forehead intensified. It was like a finger tapping against my frontal lobe, a bass drum rhythm that never quite synced up with my own pulse, another new sensation since my accident, and it swelled and receded like a tide throughout the day. Wincing, I pushed the heel of one hand against the side of my head.

“Nathan’s out on our balcony,” the girl said. She was holding the exterior door open, waiting for me. She beckoned with an urgent movement of her fingers. “Please, hurry.”

 

Don’t miss the Ella Grey Series, the urban fantasy story set in the Earthly realm that brings us to the Cataclysm and begins a new era of magic!