A Drop of Magic, page 12
part #1 of The Magicsmith Series
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not some half-breed with a smidgen of magic buried deep inside. I’m a full-blooded fae.”
I looked him up and down. He seemed so ordinary. But that was the whole point of faerie glamour, right? To blend in. “Do you have a visa?”
He pursed his lips. “What will you do if I say no?”
Under the rules of the peace treaty, if the PTF caught a full-blooded fae without a visa, they were within their rights to execute it. To the best of my knowledge, that hadn’t happened in years.
“I don’t know. I guess it depends on how this conversation goes.”
“I see. Well, rest assured, I do have a visa. I wasted a whole day getting it.” He sounded disgusted, and looked like he wanted to spit. “Your precious PTF protectors certainly like to drag their feet.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s bureaucracy. So why did you come to me? If you want to help catch Aiden’s killer, you should take what you know to the police.”
“Don’t you care what happened to him?”
“Of course I care, but that doesn’t make me qualified to do anything about it.”
“On the contrary,” he held up a finger, “it makes you uniquely qualified.”
I stared in confusion. Maybe he was crazy after all.
“The fae look at crime and punishment differently than humans.” He puffed a breath into his hands and rubbed them together. “In simplest terms, humans seem to believe in some universal truth and justice to which all beings can be held accountable. Fae society isn’t like that. If a person is wronged, that person is responsible for seeking their own justice by whatever means they have at their disposal, provided they do not break any of their lords’ laws in doing so.”
“What about the weak or the poor? How do they get justice?”
He shrugged. “You’ll not find many weak or poor among the fae, but those incapable of protecting themselves form groups or join the service of a stronger fae in exchange for protection. Lesser fae could bring a crime to the attention of their lord, but few are foolish enough to do so. In general, it is not in one’s best interest to come to the attention of a lord.”
“That sounds like a terrible system.”
“Be that as it may, it is the system by which we live. Aiden was kin. As such, I claim the right of vengeance.”
I crossed my arms. “How exactly were you related?”
“We were distant cousins.”
“But you care enough to hunt down his killer?”
“It is my duty.”
“So it’s got nothing to do with a certain silver box?”
The flash of surprise in his eyes told me I’d hit the mark.
“I admit, recovering the stolen artifact is part of my job, but part only. As those nearest Aiden, it falls to us to avenge him.”
“You, maybe,” I scoffed, “but I’m no faerie. Humans have professionals for that. I don’t subscribe to your vigilante system of justice.”
“That is only half true.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “You think I’m a halfer. I told you before, you’re wrong.” Despite my denial, my stomach twisted and I began to feel lightheaded. So much of what I thought I knew was in shambles.
A worried expression creased his forehead. “Perhaps you should sit while I explain the rest.”
While his concern seemed genuine, I suspected he just wanted an excuse to come in out of the rain. “Your five minutes are up.”
“But we still have so much to discuss.”
I ground my teeth. I wanted to slam the door and pretend I’d never met him, but hearing him out might be the only way for the police to get his information since he seemed dead-set against talking to them himself.
I slid the chain off the door. “Okay. You can—”
Headlights flashed across the front of the house, momentarily blinding me.
When I could see again, Maggie was running up to the porch, a bundle cradled against her chest. Mud dripped from the hem of her pants to the dark cement of the porch as she stepped up beside Malakai.
“Maggie? What’re—” I slapped a palm to my forehead. Dinner.
She shook the rain off her coat, shifting her load between arms, then grinned up at me. Her eyes slid over to my other guest, and the smile melted off her face. The box in her arms tipped, sliding trough her fingers, and I lurched through the door to grab it before it hit the ground.
“That’s the man from before.” Maggie’s chocolaty skin had blanched. Her eyes were wide and staring. “You said—”
“It’s okay, Maggie.” I glanced at Malakai, who was, thankfully, holding very still. “Turns out it was just a misunderstanding.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you go on inside. I’ll be right there.”
Maggie looked between me, Malakai, and the open door. She bit her lip, took the box out of my hands, and sidled into the house, her eyes on Malakai the whole time. She left the door open.
Sighing, I ran a hand over my hair and pitched my voice so it wouldn’t carry into the house. “You need to leave.”
“We need to talk.” He peeked through the open door. Maggie was standing at the kitchen counter next to her box, arms crossed. She frowned when she caught us looking. Malakai turned back to me. “Can’t you get rid of her?”
I shook my head. If she thought I was in trouble, any attempt to chase her off would just result in more drama. “The fastest way to get Maggie to leave is to convince her nothing is wrong.”
“But—”
I lifted one hand. “She should be out of here by ten at the latest. Come back then.”
Grumbling, he nodded once and stalked back through the rain.
I waited until his taillights disappeared in the trees, then shut the door on one storm and walked into another.
Maggie stood, hands on hips by the entrance to the kitchen. The kinky black curls that gave her a feeling of vibrant energy even when she stood still seemed to writhe around her face, and her clear, mocha complexion was creased across her forehead and around her puckered mouth. The piercing green eyes I’d envied so much in college narrowed as I approached.
“What the bloody hell is going on, Alex? Who is that guy? You told me to ring the police if I saw him again. You were all freaked out. And now you’re what, friends?”
Stepping up to the counter, I flipped open the top of Maggie’s box. A glass dome greeted me, the cake inside only slightly squished where it had pressed against one side, smearing its chocolate icing.
“He’s . . . an admirer.” I lifted the cake out of the box and set it on the counter. Beneath it were some board games, a deck of cards, and a stack of movies. She’d come prepared.
Maggie’s mouth screwed to one side. “I know you’re not much for social interactions, but since when did a man showing interest warrant a call to the police?”
“I overreacted. When he first introduced himself he . . . came on a little strong.”
She motioned to the front door. “What changed?”
I shrugged. Pulling the night’s entertainment out of the box. “He’s forward, but I don’t think he’s dangerous. Anyway, he’s gone now. Girls’ night, remember?”
She drummed her fingers on the counter, still frowning. “I just want to make sure you’re not doing anything reckless. Losing Aiden like that was quite the bloody shock.”
I clenched my fists. “I didn’t lose him, Maggie. He was murdered.”
Pressing her lips tight, she set one long, thin hand on my shoulder. Then her eyes shifted behind me, growing large, and her hand fell away. “Who is that?”
Fear spiked through me. I whipped around.
Cat blinked big green eyes. His tail swished like a streamer in a lazy summer breeze.
I collapsed against the counter and waved a hand at the furry intruder. “That’s Cat.”
“You got a cat?” Maggie pushed past me and knelt beside him. “You?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Not on purpose.”
“But he’s staying, right?” She glared at me, Cat half-pulled into her lap.
“Looks that way.”
“Good.” She gave him a scritch behind the ears. “It’s about time you got some company up here.”
I’d had more than enough company lately.
“How about some tea?” she asked, straightening. Tea was Maggie’s answer for everything from flu to food poisoning, broken heart to boredom. Stepping into the kitchen, she looked around, sniffed the air, and frowned. “I take it you didn’t make any dinner?”
My stomach twisted with guilt. “I—”
“Forgot I was coming.” She sighed. “Honestly, Alex, if I didn’t like you so much . . .”
I gave her a sheepish grin. “But you do.”
She smiled back. “I’ll make the tea. You find something for us to eat.”
Cocking my head to one side, I pointed at the cake. “Found it.”
MAGGIE WRAPPED her arms around me for a goodbye hug, and I stole a glance at the clock over her shoulder. 10:15. Malakai could show up any minute.
“Truthfully luv, you’re sure you’re all right?” The worry in Maggie’s voice drove needles into my heart, but Maggie had a nice, normal life. I couldn’t drag her into the madness mine had become. I wouldn’t risk anyone else.
I nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe you should come stay with me and Charlie for a while?”
I choked on a laugh. She and Charlie rented a small, two-story row house with barely enough space to keep from tripping over each other. I couldn’t imagine how they’d managed not to strangle each other yet, and I wasn’t about to join the mix. “Not gonna happen, Mags.”
“Then hurry up and find someone to marry so I can stop worrying.”
“Marriage isn’t everyone’s idea of happily ever after.”
She raised her hands. “I know, and you’ve always been one to do things your own way. But I worry.”
I gave her another hug. “I love you too.”
Lifting her box, now with an empty cake holder, I stole another glance at the clock. 10:20. “Let’s get you home before Charlie starts to worry.”
The rain had petered off to a light mist, but my driveway was a river of mud. We slogged to her CRV and loaded the box in the back. A gust of wind tugged a strand of hair into my face and I pushed it back with a growl. “I love the rain, but it makes my hair so frizzy.”
She tipped her head, pointing at her own wild mane. “Really? You’re gonna complain to me about frizz?”
We both laughed as she climbed into her seat.
“See you ′round, Mags.”
“I’d better. You pull another disappearing act on me and we’re gonna have words.”
I waved her off into the night.
Malakai didn’t show up as I tromped back to the porch, or when I closed the door. He wasn’t there when I looked out the window half an hour later after cleaning and putting away the dishes Maggie and I had used. Finally, I set my coffee maker so I’d have something to drink in the morning.
I pulled an afghan off the back of the couch and snuggled under it, tucking it under my legs. Damp still clung to my hair, and the chill of true night was setting in.
Cat jumped onto the cushion beside me, butting his head into my thigh.
Yawning, I scratched him behind the ears, and a long, low purr filled the silence.
I draped my hand over his vibrating side and let my head relax against the backrest.
Damn faerie better hurry up.
I BLINKED.
Watery light cast pale shadows across the living room curtains. The thick aroma of coffee drifted to me, and I blinked again. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. When I swallowed, the stale taste made me grimace. Every muscle in my body felt welded in place, and I groaned as I pushed away from the couch.
Cat yawned wide enough for me to see down his throat, stretched, and padded away down the hall.
The clock was blurry, and I rubbed my dried-out eyes. Morning had snuck up while I waited.
I rolled my shoulders, frowning when a sharp pain stabbed through my neck. Then I shuffled to the window and pulled back the curtain.
Malakai’s little tan Toyota was back.
Why hadn’t he woken me?
The rain was gone, replaced by a wispy fog that clung to the trees like cobwebs.
I poured myself a mug of steaming coffee and cradled it in my hands. I still wasn’t sure what to make of Malakai’s claim that I was a halfer, but what did he have to gain from such a ridiculous lie? And even if the screwy fae justice system had him looking for Aiden’s killer, what made him think I could help? I took a sip of coffee and burnt my tongue on the scalding liquid.
Cursing, I set the mug aside. Time to find out if he was crazy or not.
Grabbing my robe, I pulled it tight to keep the damp chill off me as I tiptoed toward Malakai’s car in my mud-caked boots. Mist beaded his windshield and clouded my view as I paced around to the passenger side. Malakai was sleeping, reclined in the seat, a faded blue blanket draped across his chest and lap. The back bench was a mountain of takeout bags, soda cans, and candy wrappers. He’d probably been living out of his car for days.
I chewed my lower lip and reminded myself that I had a nice new security system and a panic button that would bring the police if I pushed it.
Sighing, I slammed my palm against his window.
Chapter 10
MY LIPS QUIRKED with a twisted sense of pleasure when Malakai jumped. I’d had enough surprises lately, it was a welcome change to get the drop on someone else. I gave him a moment to orient himself, then knocked again. Once his eyes focused on me, I motioned him to roll down the window.
“Couldn’t afford a hotel?” I asked.
He rubbed his eyes and grunted.
“Thought I told you to come back at ten.”
“I got delayed. Didn’t figure you’d appreciate a wakeup call at three a.m.”
I nodded, leaning one hip against the cold metal of his car and crossing my arms. “You still wanna talk?”
He sat up a little straighter, looking at me with big, brown eyes. “Are you going to let me in this time?”
Stepping back, I tipped my head toward the house. “Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.”
He slid out of the car, then reached back and lifted a small, canvas backpack. Catching my look, he said, “Toiletries and such. I was hoping to use your bathroom to freshen up.”
Keeping one hand in my pocket, thumb on the panic button, I let him proceed me to the front door. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, about my height but rail thin. His mousy brown hair stood up in tufts, and he walked stiffly, probably from being cramped in a car all night. I’d been on enough road trips to know how unpleasant that could be.
I pointed him to the bathroom and retrieved my now-cool-enough-to-drink coffee, then perched on the edge of a chair. When Malakai emerged, I motioned him to take a seat on the couch.
“So Mr. Malakai—”
“Kai, please.”
I frowned. “Kai. What have you got to tell me?”
“First, I’d like to apologize for our initial encounter. I don’t have much experience with humans. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I snorted. It wasn’t much of an apology, but the part about not having much experience with humans was easy to believe. I got the feeling he hadn’t been off the reservation in a long time, if ever.
“I don’t need an apology, I need answers.”
“Shall we begin with you, or Aiden?”
“Tell me what you know about Aiden. Maybe, if I decide you’re not full of shit, I’ll listen to what else you have to say.”
“Fair enough.” He laid back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, like a psych patient about to unload their problems on a shrink. “I assume you’re at least passingly familiar with the recent murders around here?”
I nodded.
“Your police haven’t been able to find a connection between the victims because they are missing a crucial piece of information. All the victims were unregistered halfers.”
“The PTF didn’t find a fae connection. And wouldn’t something like that have come out during the autopsies? Even if they were weak halfers, there should have been enough iron in the surgical tools to cause a reaction.”
“Fae are animated by magic. It’s our essence, similar to a human’s soul. It’s that magic that reacts to iron. When a halfer dies, their magic disperses. All that remains is their mortal flesh, so their corpses would seem human.”
“Then how do you know what they were?”
He shrugged. “Humans can’t tell the difference between someone with fae blood and someone without unless they perform tests, and those tests aren’t infallible. Most fae can identify someone with magic in their blood at a mere glance. We also have the benefit of more accurate genealogical records. The fae registry of halfers is considerably longer and more detailed than what the offices of the PTF hold.”
“The fae have a registry too?”
“Of sorts, but for different reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Let’s just say we like to keep tabs on our relatives. All the people killed were low-level halfers, people whose fae ancestry was weak enough or far enough removed that they probably didn’t know what they were. None of them had traits or abilities that would have brought them to the PTF’s attention.”
“But the PTF was looking at Aiden,” I argued, “and I’m pretty sure he knew what he was. It would explain a lot of his behavior.”
“True. Aiden’s grandmother told him. Her grandfather was strong enough to do a few simple tricks. She got it into her head that people would be out to get her if they knew, and apparently passed that paranoia on to her grandson.”
