Fairy Magic (2 page)

She sat back down on her barstool. The sparks died on her fingers, her magic spent for now. Her magic had a habit of being unreliable, which was why she always carried at least a knife on her body. When she was on the job, she also carried a sword. And sometimes her crossbow too. She hadn’t expected to need any of those things here. Clearly, she’d vastly underestimated the local male population.

The neighboring barstool screeched against the floor. “Hey, darling, can I buy you a drink?”

Naomi turned to face her next suitor. Her eyes widened when she saw him, a man with soft dark hair and lovely olive skin. He winked at her with devilish pleasure.

“I remember you,” she said.

“Of course you do. How could you forget this handsome face?”

She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Xanthus.”

He set his hand over his cheek where she’d kissed it. “I will treasure your kiss forever.”

She grinned at him. “Of course you will.”

“I’ll never wash this spot,” he promised with solemn silliness.

“You’d better. It will get all dirty and stinky.”

“A small price to pay to keep your kiss with me forever.”

She snorted. “How are you?”

The wicked spark in his eyes died down. “Well. Thanks to you.”

The night of Bloody Friday, Naomi and her friends had rescued some mixed-magic supernaturals—and then ended up caught in the middle of the bloodbath. Xanthus, a vampire-mage, was one of those hybrids.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she told him, setting her hand on his arm.

“I am feeling
much
better.” His smooth gaze slid down her body like a river of silk.

Xanthus was a good-looking man. There was no denying that. And he looked like he knew how to have fun. Usually, Naomi would be game for a little fun with him. There were just two problems standing in their way of a blissful night of distractions. Firstly, she was working. Secondly, he was a bloodsucker, albeit only half vampire. But half or not, vampires had some really weird ideas about sex. Plus, the last guy she’d slept with had turned out to be a psycho who betrayed her family to a demon-dealing dark fairy, so she was going to be a bit pickier from now on out. Ok, so maybe that was three reasons.

“I’m glad to hear your injuries aren’t interfering with your lifestyle,” she said. “Have you seen this couple?”

He glanced down at the photo. “No. Sorry. Friends of yours?”

“I’ve never met them actually. They are a hybrid couple that has been missing since last Friday.”

“Ah, so you’re here to work.”

“Yes,” she said, giving him a sweet smirk.

Ok, maybe she wasn’t going to sleep with him, but it sure was fun to flirt. His hand twitched, as though it was taking every shred of self-control not to touch her. God, she loved to watch self-assured men squirm.

“Naomi, you tempt me terribly,” Xanthus said, his voice a soft rasp. He slid a pale ivory business card with gold text across the bar to her. “If you ever need a break from saving the world, give me a call.” He rose smoothly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my date is ready to go.”

She laughed. “You were hitting on me while on a date with another woman?”

“Of course.” He winked at her. “I had to try in case you wanted to join us.”

He blew her a kiss, then strode over to a woman in a tiny red dress that vaguely resembled a dishcloth—except a dishcloth had considerably more fabric. Naomi sat at the bar for a few more minutes, slowly stirring her drink while allowing the music to melt into her soul. She was just about to resume her search for answers when a quintet of humans in faded tops and tattered jeans stormed into the bar, their gunfire splintering the melody.

CHAPTER TWO

Fairy Magic

SUPERNATURALS WEREN’T SUPPOSED to kill humans, not even if those humans were doing their utmost to stain the walls with supernatural blood. That mandate came directly from the Magic Council that ruled the supernatural community. The Council thought telling their people not to fight would keep the fragile peace. They might have been right—well, except they didn’t know their own people very well.

Supernaturals were pretty frustrated right now. Feeling like their hands were tied behind their backs while the humans played out their Van Helsing fantasies wasn’t helping matters. And with each passing week, the problem was getting worse. The humans were growing bolder and the supernaturals more volatile. That there was a recipe for another bloodbath. It wasn’t a question of
if
; it was a matter of
when
. And where.

See, the thing was supernaturals just didn’t solve their problems like humans did. They were decidedly more medieval. Differences of opinion were resolved in duels of steel and magic. They didn’t pull any punches and rarely played fair. Sitting back while someone attacked them grated on the very fabric of their nature. Truth be told, it grated on Naomi’s nature too.

A dark, vengeful light gleamed in the eyes of Spitfire’s patrons tonight. Their club—their sanctuary—had been attacked, and they wanted to make the trespassers pay. The humans stood tall on the raised dance floor, insults and bullets pouring down from them like acid rain. The supernaturals had taken cover, but they were already creeping up toward the stage, their shadows shifting like a pack of predators. Pointed fangs slid down from the vampires’ mouth. Magic sizzled and snapped on the mages’ and fairies’ hands. Ghosts swayed overhead, ready to drop things on the humans. If Naomi didn’t stop them, this really would turn into another bloodbath.

What idiots had decided it would be a good idea to attack a club packed full of supernaturals on a Friday night? She had a feeling it was the same sort of crazies who had engineered the massacre in London. Crazy fanatics plus vast resources were not a stellar combination. Neither were magic and a thirst to deal damage. Tonight was turning out to be a regular salami-banana-pickle-chocolate ice cream sundae kind of night.

Naomi soldier-crawled her way to the steps, staying low to keep out of sight and out of the line of fire. Bullets streamed over her head. The front window of the club shattered, the broken bits of glass pouring down to the ground like a diamond waterfall. As all eyes turned toward the window, Naomi hurried up the staircase to the upper level gallery that overlooked the lower part of the club.

Silence sliced through Spitfire. The humans had run out of bullets. They still stood on the stage, proudly filling the silence with hateful words. So their plan seemed to consist solely of barging into a supernatural club, spewing insults and bullets. They hadn’t considered what would happen if the supernaturals took cover, biding their time until the bullets were spent. They hadn’t thought that far ahead. Maybe they weren’t criminal masterminds after all, just people with a lot of hate and no brains.

The supernaturals were closing in. The idiotic haters didn’t have much time. Their rhetoric grew faster, their tone uneven, their insults nervous. Realizing the danger was over, the supernaturals were rising up. Slowly, they stalked closer to the stage. This was about to get really ugly.

Naomi slid her legs over the metal rail and jumped down onto the dance floor. She couldn’t fly like full-blooded fairies, but she could fall slowly—at least slowly enough not to break her legs upon landing. As she dropped, fear and exhilaration twisted up inside of her chest, freezing her breath.

She landed amidst the humans, her heart pulsing hard and heavy in her ears, drowning out all else. She spun around, shooting a wave of Fairy Dust at them. The pink sparkles of magic hit the humans in the face. Their eyes rolled back, and they dropped to the floor.

“See, that’s how you do it,” she told the crowd of supernaturals. “And I didn’t even touch them.”

The front door swung open, and another five armed humans stormed into the club.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Naomi said.

But as she turned to blast the new arrivals to dreamland, the woman in front dashed forward and clocked her in the head. Naomi stumbled, but she was too stubborn to go down. She might not have had the strongest magic, but her years as a mercenary fighting monsters and beings that hit hard had at least made her resilient.

Naomi glared into G.I. Jane’s smirking face. Magic exploded from her hands in a burning wave of pink Fairy Dust that slammed into the humans, smacking them hard against the floor. A pair of vampires hopped up onto the stage, their twin crimson glares locked on the ten unconscious humans. Even as Naomi moved to block the vampires, a trio of mages slowly eased onto the stage from the other end. Dozens of other supernaturals streamed forward, cold fury burning in their eyes, the stench of vengeance staining their breath. They were going to tear the humans to pieces, and there wasn’t anything Naomi could do to stop them. Her magic worked well against humans, but she’d need more magic than she had to take out all the mages and vampires—not to mention that fairies and ghosts were immune to it altogether.

And to top off this disaster sundae, the shrill cry of police sirens had just closed in like a noose tightening around the club’s exits.

* * *

“Let’s go through this again, Ms. Garland,” Detective Marks said for the one millionth time. The human police detective was on the upper end of forty, but she looked as fit as any twenty-year-old. She was wearing a really expensive pants suit and her dark hair was smoothed back into a very professional bun.

“As I said, a group of humans crashed the club,” Naomi replied, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

She was never going to get out of here. Why had these stupid haters attacked tonight of all nights, when the paranormal police were overwhelmed? The human police had answered someone’s call for help, and they were trying to think of a way to claim jurisdiction over this whole mess. Humans had attacked supernaturals in a supernatural club. The only way they could claim any jurisdiction was if they proved one of the supernaturals had done something against the humans. That’s why they were focusing on Naomi. She’d used Fairy Dust to knock out the attackers. That fell well within the boundaries of self-defense, plus she’d saved a lot of people—supernaturals and humans alike—from being torn apart by magic and steel. But she couldn’t say that. The detective would twist it into something incriminating. She was clearly competent at her job.

Naomi pressed an icepack to her head. G.I. Jane had hit like a sledgehammer. And playing the blame game with the human police sure wasn’t helping to soothe her headache.

“They unloaded their bullets on the supernaturals,” Naomi said, smiling sweetly. “Supernaturals who came here to sit back and relax with some nice music and a drink on a Friday night after a long week of work.”

“Those humans?” Detective Marks asked, pointing at the ten humans sitting outside, all handcuffed to the bicycle racks around the building. Three police officers were standing over them, debating how they were going to fit them all into the only two cars they’d brought along.

“Yes, those happy faces,” Naomi said, giving the humans a little wave.

They growled and hissed and made nasty comments. G.I. Jane pushed against her restraints, her handcuffs clinking against the metal bars. If she’d had super-strength, Naomi had no doubt she’d have torn the bike rack from the ground and hurled it at her.

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” one of the humans said.

“They have guns,” Naomi told Detective Marks.

“Those stinking supernaturals are setting us up!”

“Take a look at the inside of the club,” Naomi said to the detective. “You’ll see what I mean. The place was trashed by gunfire, not magic.”

“They sabotaged their own place.”

“They kidnapped us and brought us here.”

“We were just defending ourselves!”

“They unleashed monsters on our city tonight!”

“They can’t be allowed to get away with that!”

“Enough!” Detective Marks shouted in a powerful, practiced voice.

The humans fell instantly silent. The detective must have been a mother. Mothers had powers that mere mortals—or even supernaturals—did not. She turned that cool, calculating glare on Naomi.

“You claim they attacked you?”

“Yes,” said Naomi.

“Some of them look pretty injured themselves,” Detective Marks observed.

A few of the humans began to hold their heads and moan in pain, even those without a scratch on them, let alone a major head injury. Drama queens.

“They are playing you,” Naomi said. “This is all a big game to them. They came into a supernatural club and began shooting bullets everywhere. People could have died. They got a few scratches, probably from the glass of that window they shattered.” She gestured toward the broken window. “And now they are complaining?”

“They claim they were set up.”

Naomi smiled. “So they just
accidentally
walked into a club carrying automatic rifles? Yeah, right.”

Detective Marks rubbed her head like her brain hurt. “There have been a lot of fights between humans and supernaturals lately.”

“Initiated by gun-happy humans like these.”

Detective Marks continued. “And they claim they were carrying the guns because of the monster attacks.”

Naomi gritted her teeth. Wild monsters were having a go at taking over Munich tonight. The timing was impeccable.

“They say they took sanctuary from the monsters by running into the club,” Detective Marks said. “And then you all tried to kick them out into the street again.”

Who even made up shit like this? Wow. Naomi felt herself nodding in disbelief.

“They say you used magic against them and that they fired in self-defense.”

“Something the video feeds should clear right up,” a man in a paranormal police detective suit said as he joined them. Five other members of the paranormal police division stood behind him. Thank goodness.

Detective Marks didn’t look happy to see them. “Jordan,” she said, the name almost a sigh. Apparently, the two detectives knew each other.

Detective Jordan nodded. “Marks.”

“I’m afraid you came all the way here for nothing, Jordan,” she said, channeling her inner mother again. “According to Article 6, Section 3 of the Supernatural Decree of 1967, we have clear jurisdiction here as there are human injuries, but no supernatural ones.”