Abducted by Faerie (Stolen Magic Book 5) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Title Page

  Newsletter

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Available Now

  A Note From the Author

  Thank you

  www.McKayManor.com

  Copyright © 2017 Robert McKay

  Copyright © 2017 Faith McKay

  Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs

  All rights reserved.

  ABDUCTED BY FAERIE

  (Stolen Magic, #5)

  WB McKay

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  Click here to get started: www.McKayManor.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  I broke into the hotel room with a crowbar. I was all about the obvious joke. If they'd left the window open, I could have shifted, flown in, and saved everyone the trouble of all this property damage.

  It was their fault, is what I'm saying. Besides, I saved them money in the long run. Paying for a broken window is nothing compared to being compelled to empty their bank accounts. That's what would have happened if they put on the pair of charmed flip-flops that were my target. I'd gotten a good amount of information on this case. It included a complete description of what would happen if the object was used, a picture of the people last known to have possession, and the name of the hotel they were staying at. It would have been a job for a rookie agent if humans weren't involved.

  I climbed into the room, took three steps, and let out an undignified shriek. Not a magical one. I've got more control over my magic than that. Just a mundane scream, induced by what I thought was a hole in the floor. I'd screamed because I'd expected to tumble into the turquoise water beneath the posh resort room. Instead, I was tripped up by the unexpected support of the glass floor, tumbled over a chair that cost more than I made in a month, and landed hard on my ass.

  "Smooth, Sophie. Real smooth." I dusted myself off and limped into the bedroom, determined not to be embarrassed. How was I supposed to expect a huge glass covered hole in the floor? "Damned rich people can't just build their hotels on solid ground like everyone else? No, I need a resort over the water with a glass floor so the fish can watch me having sex."

  Maybe I didn't quite understand the purpose of the hole.

  I was wading through a closet packed with clothes when the door to the outside opened. Loud American voices echoed around the spacious room. The consonants were slurred. Drunk? It wasn't even noon yet. Take off the judgment hat and put on your thinking cap, Sophie. I just had to find the flip-flops and get out of there. With this case I didn't even have to leave behind a warrant because they weren't aware of magic. I decided to ignore the idiots in the next room and continue my search.

  You'd think that searching a closet in a hotel wouldn't take long. In any hotel I'd ever stayed in, that would be true. Apparently people who went to Barbados and stayed at luxury resorts had different expectations. These people had brought more clothes on vacation than I would ever own in my lifetime. Opening door after door, I felt like I was on a bizarre game show. What's behind door number one? Formal wear, complete with diamond necklaces and golden cuff links! What's behind door number two? Exercise clothes and a set of golf clubs! Do you want to take what's behind the first two doors or risk it all for what's behind door number three? Well, imaginary game show host, I only came for one thing and it's not behind either of those doors, so I'll take door number three. And what has she won? A pile of shoes and flip-flops so huge they could be lined up end to end and circle the globe! No wonder they hadn't put the charmed ones on yet.

  "Those were the best mimosas I've ever had in my life," said a nasally female voice. "And what was in those breakfast potatoes? I would have ordered another round if it wouldn't have taken up too much mimosa room." There was a loud slapping sound, as if the woman were smacking her bare belly.

  "Classy," I muttered to myself, tossing shoes aside. The description in the file had clearly stated they were flip-flops, but that had been the end of the details. It was the one area where the file had been lacking. I hadn't thought it would be a problem. My mistake. There was always something.

  "Did you hear that?" asked a rumbling male voice.

  Shit. I didn't need to end up dealing with the human authorities. I had to find the stupid flip-flops and get the hell out of there. I hoped I would sense the magic when I touched the right ones. Brightly colored leather and plastic flashed before my eyes in a dizzying array as heavy steps thudded into the bedroom.

  The closet was thrown open, bathing me in golden Caribbean sunlight. A broad man with thick shoulders stood there, his mouth gaping.

  I did the only thing I could think of: I rambled. I scratched at my skin and pulled at my hair. "I can't find my flip-flops. I need the flip-flops. They protect me from the faeries. If I don't have them, the faeries will take all of my tiddlywinks." I mean, I wasn't sure what my boss would do if I didn't find them, but he was a real jerk. If I assumed one could call the things on my desk tiddlywinks, I'm sure he'd take them. Lying with the truth was always a tricky thing. "Have you seen my flip-flops?"

  "Get the hell out of here!" howled the man, his face turning an impressive shade of red. "Honey, call the front desk and have them call the police. There's an addict in our closet."

  Well, at least he thought I was on drugs and not stealing from them. "I have to find my flip-flops."

  The woman came into the bedroom, a phone in her hand. She was tall and blonde, wearing a white pair of shorts and a bright pink bikini top. "Maybe we don't need to call the police," she said. "She shouldn't go to jail for a bad trip. I've done a lot worse than mess up a closet on a bad trip."

  The man started to speak, but I cut him off. "Have you seen my flip-flops?"

  "Look at her," said the woman, giving me a sad smile. "She's not going to hurt anyone. She's just confused."

  The man's eyes softened and he looked me over. "Maybe you're right," he said, the tension in his shoulders easing. If I had to guess, with his size and build, he was a former football player. He gave me a weak smile. "Come out here and..." he trailed off, his eyes locking on something over my shoulder, then raking over me with an intensity I'd rarely seen before. His hand went to his empty hip, probably reaching for a gun he wasn't carrying on vacation. "If she's so harmless, what is she doing with two swords?"

  I stepped forward slowly, my hands held out in front of me. "I'm not here to hurt you, Dennis," I said, drudging the name from my memory of the case file.

  He backed up, wrapping an arm protectively around his wife. Sheila, if I recalled correctly. "Just get the hell out of here. Sheila, make the call."

  "I wish I could, Dennis, but you have something that's dangerous, and I need to take it so it won't hurt you or anyone else."

  Sheila dialed frantically, but judging by the noises the phone was making
, she wasn't hitting the right buttons. Dennis was edging them around the bed. I saw his eyes dart toward the bedside table.

  Damn it. I'd bet he had a gun in there. I drew Epic from the scabbard on my back, making sure the steel scraped on the way out, causing that distinctive ring. I held the sword loosely, pointed toward the ground. "I said I don't want to hurt anyone, Dennis, but if you pull a gun out, I won't have any choice other than to defend myself. Step over to the wall."

  He stopped his backward progression, but didn't move toward the wall. "Fine. What do you want?"

  "I'm just here for a pair of flip-flops. You bought them here on the island."

  "Flip-flops? Are you kidding me?" He gestured toward the shoes that were spilling out of the closet. "Does it look like we need another pair of shoes? We haven't bought anything since we got here."

  I looked at the mess of shoes and when I looked back his hand was in the drawer. He was fast for such a large man.

  This was not going at all according to plan. I rolled across the bed and plowed into Dennis just as he turned to face me. We tumbled to the floor and the gun went off. Pain seared through my left calf and I lost track of events for a few moments.

  When my eyes focused again, I saw Dennis struggling to his feet, a minor cut on his shoulder. "Come on! All I want are some damned flip-flops!"

  "You cut me," grumbled Dennis, poking at the hole in his shirt.

  I used the bed to pull myself up. "You shot me!" I pointed at my leg.

  He looked at the gun, his brow wrinkling as if he didn't know what was going on. His eyes weren't focusing properly. He must have hit his head. Finally, a break.

  I stepped close and hit him in the head with the pommel of my sword. His eyes rolled up and he tumbled to the bed.

  There was a scrabbling noise behind me. Sheila was cowering in the corner, both her hands over her mouth.

  "Everything is okay," I cooed. "I don't want to hurt you. Dennis is fine." I slid Epic back into his scabbard and held my hands out in front of me. "I need the flip-flops, then I'll leave."

  Sheila's breathing slowed and became regular. I wasn't about to turn my back on her to search the apartment. I tried to match her breathing so I'd have something to focus on instead of yelling at her like I wanted to.

  "He lied," she said in a breathy whisper. "Don't tell him I told you."

  "Can you show me where the shoes are?"

  "I'll get them for you." She stood and walked to a large suitcase sitting in the corner of the room. "He wouldn't have ever worn them where someone might see."

  She walked back to me and handed me the largest pair of golden, sparkly flip-flops I'd ever seen. They had to be at least a size fourteen. I could feel a small shock of cool magic when my fingers touched the bottom of them.

  "He was willing to shoot me because he didn't want anyone to know he likes sparkly shoes?"

  She gave me a small, helpless shrug. "He's got a macho image. He works security. The guys would never let him live it down."

  "Humans," I huffed, and stalked out of the hotel room. There are species of fae with three heads that can be of various sexes, but humans have hangups about men wearing shoes that sparkle. Hangups worth shooting me for! And I thought the fae were violent. Sometimes I didn't understand humans at all.

  It didn't take me long to get back to the portal to Volarus. Thankfully, Sheila didn't call the hotel staff or the police.

  Between one step and another I went from a warm, sandy beach to a bustling fae city. The portal was one of the few that wasn't someplace totally weird. I stepped into an alley beside a strip club. It smelled strongly of several dozen different kinds of urine, but was otherwise as mundane as things got in Volarus. I caught an Uber with a nice satyr and was dropped off right in front of the Faerie Affairs Building.

  I waved to the driver as he pulled off. He gave me a goofy grin.

  Whoever figured out how to make Uber work in a city that didn't technically exist on Earth, but also was in a couple dozen places at once, was a magical genius I wanted to meet someday. It had only been operating for a month and I'd used it a dozen times. Taxis had never really taken off in Volarus, probably because there weren't any predictable traffic patterns, but Uber was already booming.

  I'd shifted a couple times on my way back to Volarus. Sometimes shifting from crow to human helped heal my injuries. My leg was feeling a little better, and I was walking on it, but there was something about a gunshot wound that convinced even me to go ahead and get it looked at. By the time that was done, I was in no mood to do anything but hang out with Owen. Luckily, it was about time for him to be popping out of work for his dinner. I walked over to where my motorcycle, Bliss, was parked. Turning in the flip-flops could wait until after we ate. I stuffed the ridiculous footwear into the saddlebag.

  Owen came down the steps, angling in my direction, but he wasn't looking me in the eyes. He was staring at my forehead, where I could feel a familiar and unwelcome weight.

  "Damn it!" I stomped my foot and pulled the golden crown of feathers off my head. I pulled open my saddlebag and pulled out a bag I'd put in there for just such occasions. I stuffed the Golden Fleece into the charmed black silk and grabbed the flip-flops. I might as well turn them in now that I had to drop off the Fleece again. "I'll be right back."

  Owen headed toward the food cart across the street. "I'll order your usual," he called.

  I gave him a wave to let him know I'd heard him and stomped up the stairs. Within a couple minutes I was storming down the hallway in the basement of MOD. The other side of the basement held Owen's research lab, but the side I was headed for was home to the magical object containment division.

  Standing in the glass cube that made up the reception desk was a tall, thin, woman with her hair in a severe bun. Her dark eyes watched me carefully as I approached. When I was within reach, she pressed a button that ejected a metal drawer for me to place my retrieved item in.

  The flip-flops went in and then the woman behind the glass saw the black bag clutched in my other hand. "Not a-fucking-gain!"

  "Yes, Carol. Again." I held up the bag and dumped the crown into the drawer with a metal clank.

  Carol was torn between a smile and a grimace when she pushed the button to pull the drawer back in so she could catalog and store the items. "I'm going to find some way to contain the Fleece. I promise." She adjusted her bun, trying to figure out how I'd recognized her, then her brown eyes lit up. "Damn it. I did it again! I have to find a way to get my mouth under control."

  I chuckled. It had been three months since I'd told Carol that I could identify her, despite the thorough and constantly rotating glamours that all containment attendants wore for their safety. She had a dirty mouth that might as well have put a name tag on her chest. "I'd prefer that you put all of your energy into keeping the Fleece in there where it belongs."

  Like everything I said, that was the honest truth. What I didn't tell Carol was that it was harder to turn in every time it happened. My covetousness was the least of my worries when it came to the crown. Each time it appeared on my head, I got another flash of insight into my magic. I'd wanted better control over it since I was a kid, and now that it was within my grasp, I didn't trust it. It scared the hell out of me. I'd spent most of my life trying not to use my magic unless I absolutely had to. Now, with the Fleece, it felt like I was capable of anything. It was just too much.

  "I've got some new ideas." Carol picked up the Fleece and eyed it speculatively. "It was in custody for a week this time. I'm making progress."

  "It's more likely the Fleece just didn't feel like showing up for a week."

  She glared me.

  "I guess I've offended you." Her eyes narrowed further. "It's the Golden Fleece, Carol. Watch your ego. It's tricky for all of us."

  "That's true." She sighed. "The minute I forget to respect the danger of my job is the moment I light my own ass on fire, eh?"

  "Isn't that the truth. Well," I tapped the counter, "I appre
ciate everything you do, Carol." I figured saying something nice would help blow over my earlier offense. She seemed okay now. At least until I caught her evil smile as she pushed a mountain of paperwork through the small slot on the counter. "Well, almost everything." She let out a long peal of laughter. I scooped up the paperwork and put it under my arm. "I'll get these to you tomorrow."

  "Can I get the ones for the flip-flops first thing? You know I'm supposed to have those as soon as possible."

  She was supposed to have the paperwork immediately on any new object. That's why I had planned to turn it in later. The fact that she was letting me turn it in tomorrow was a kindness. She must really like me, rude statements and all. The paperwork for the Fleece was more of a formality, but still had to be done. And because it was a strange situation it took even more documents to record it. My hand cramped at the thought. "Of course, Carol. I don't want you getting in trouble because I'm lazy."

  Carol shook her head, her lips set in a firm line. "None of that. You've had to fill that same shit out a couple dozen times in the last three months because we can't do our jobs. It's the least I can do for you."

  "If it were possible, I'd take you out for a drink," I said, heading back down the hall.

  "If I could, I'd take you up on that," she replied, a smile lighting up her stern features.

  Outside, Owen waved to me from the World Burrito food cart. He sat at one of the small tables they put out for their customers. I crossed the street and sat across from him. My smile was both for him, and for the fabulous silver tube steaming in front of me. "Ah, French-Thai goodness, get in my mouth."

  The World Burrito cart's weird fusion burritos had become a staple of Owen's, and by extension my, diet over the last couple of months. He'd settled into a good pattern at MOD, and so had I. There had been nothing but regular old retrieval cases, and it was glorious. It was great to be able to just enjoy my life with my boyfriend. We were even planning a vacation together.

  "What's with the big smile?" asked Owen.