Hidden by Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 3) 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

  EPILOGUE

  A Note From the Author

  Wolf Magic

  Chapter One: Wolf Magic

  Thank you

  www.McKayManor.com

  Copyright © 2017 Robert McKay

  Copyright © 2017 Faith McKay

  Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs

  All rights reserved.

  HIDDEN BY FAERIE

  (Stolen Magic, #3)

  WB McKay

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  Click here to get started: www.McKayManor.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  A phone call at five in the morning is never a good way to wake up. I dragged myself out of bed once I understood that my boss, Hammond, was calling me in on a case. If he was awake at five I wasn't getting out of this mess, whatever it was. I hadn't asked for details that my brain wouldn't be able to hold onto anyway.

  "Good morning," said Phoebe, sitting on the couch and drinking a cup of coffee with far too cheerful an expression on her face.

  "Nothing is good, and I'm not even sure that five o'clock counts as morning," I said, slumping into the kitchen. "You are a goddess for making coffee though."

  Her smile grew even wider. "It's vanilla, made with real vanilla beans," she chirped.

  I usually didn't drink coffee. It was a crutch I didn't want to have to rely on. "As long as it drowns out the taste of the actual coffee, I don't care if it was made with synthesized, radioactive, vanilla-flavored sludge." I poured a cup and dumped a metric ton of creamer and sugar into it. "What has you up so early?"

  "I like to watch the sunrise through the trees," she said, making it sound perfectly reasonable.

  "So you do this every morning?" I asked, my mind reeling. "On purpose?"

  Phoebe nodded vigorously and pulled herself up on her knees to face me over the back of the couch, drawing attention to her bare chest. Being a dryad, a type of spirit that was attached to a tree, she didn't believe in clothing. When there was company over, she could conjure a thin, bark-like substance that covered her red-tinted naughty bits, but around me, she didn't bother. I'd mostly gotten used to it. I'd had a lot of opportunity to normalize the behavior over the seven years I'd lived in the treehouse secured to the trunk of her redwood tree. "It's the best time of day. Just wait a little while and you'll see what I mean."

  "If I were going to stay home, I wouldn't be conscious." I took a long drink of my coffee and sighed. "I have to go in on a case."

  "Must be something big," she said, taking a sip of her own coffee.

  "I have no idea. I can't remember a thing Hammond said. I really hope he sent the details to my phone. It's probably something on the east coast if he needs me this early. Fucking time zones." I flicked blearily through my phone until I found the file he'd sent me. "It says here that the case is in...Volarus. Damn it. What the hell is going on?"

  "You don't normally work cases in Volarus, do you?" asked Phoebe, a crease forming between her eyes. "That's a high profile beat."

  "Beat? What is this, the 1920s?" I groused. The problem was, she was right. The Magical Object Division had as many branches as there were places the magical fae city spilled onto Earth. I usually handled cases that originated in my local area of Humboldt county at the northern edge of California. Sometimes the cases dragged me all over the world, but as a rule, I didn't deal with cases with strong Volarus or Faerie ties. They had their own task forces, usually filled with tenured agents. And tenured for fae usually meant several decades. My measly seven years of experience didn't count for much. I scanned the file for hints the case had anything to do with death magic, since I'd been getting a lot of those cases recently. The file was surprisingly short on details. "It doesn't say what the case is, so I have no idea why I was assigned. It just says to report to The Museum of Fae Culture and History." Wherever that was.

  "Well, if you're going to a museum in the city, you might want to put on some pants," said Phoebe, her eyes sparkling.

  My eyes flicked to my lower half and I groaned. I hadn't put on any pajama pants when I got up. I always tried to stay clothed when I walked around the house. Being a shifter who couldn't take my clothes with me when I shifted had pretty well taken any embarrassment about nudity I felt, but most people didn't feel the same way, so I bowed to the will of society. At least I was wearing underwear. I downed another swallow of the hot coffee and sighed. "I'm going to need so much more of this coffee if I don't want to make an ass of myself on a high profile case."

  "I'll put some in a thermos for you and make another pot while you get ready," said Phoebe.

  I eyed her skeptically. "What are you up to?"

  "Nothing," she said, scowling at me as she made her way into the kitchen. "Can't a roommate do something nice without being under suspicion?"

  "Maybe if you managed to go an entire week without pulling some sort of prank that stopped being funny years ago."

  "To you," she said, her smile turning sly. "To me, they're hilarious."

  "Please just don't do anything to the coffee. I need it for the sake of my career."

  "You got it, roomie," she said, pouring the last of the coffee into a giant thermos. "Go shower and all that jazz. I've got you covered here."

  She didn't lie, so the coffee would be safe, and that was all that mattered. "Fine." I downed the last of my cup and shuffled off to the bathroom. At least I could count on a prank free shower. Phoebe had agreed that some things were sacred. Showers were one of them. I was definitely coming home to some sort of prank though. She was being way too nice with the coffee.

  The caffeine kicked in by the time I reached Volarus, and my curiosity along with it.

  I pulled up my second sight as I neared what appeared to be a dilapidated old house and a barren field to the humans who inhabited Arcata, California. With my second sight in place, it was easy to steer Bliss, my beloved motorcycle, into the alley and then onto a street that ran next to FAB headquarters. Normally, I would turn left and be at my office. Instead, I turned right and made my way toward the artsy section of Volarus. I didn't spend much time in the city and had looked up directions before I left. Luckily, the place was hard to miss. It was a large, old-looking building that contrasted with the modern structures towering over it. Magic thrummed in the air, probably keeping all of the buildings caught up with the latest trends in architecture. Volarus was ancient, but it always looked like a human city on the cutting edge. All the fae walking down the street carried cell phones and other high end electronics. It was a city that would fit in practically anywhere on Earth, though it was technically part of Faerie. And that was the point. Drive down one street and you could emerge in California, the next could dump you in Australia. Volarus was physically connected to dozens of places across Earth, and linked with portals to almost everywhere else.

  I parked Bliss on the sidewalk in front of the muse
um, gawking at the sheer number of black SUVs lining the street. I was late to the party, it appeared. If that was the case, then I could afford to be a little bit later. I opened the saddle bag on Bliss's left side and pulled out the thermos and a travel mug. I set them on the sidewalk and took off my helmet, hanging it on the handlebar and shaking out my black hair. I ran my fingers through it and checked it in one of Bliss's tiny mirrors. Good enough for six in the morning. I retrieved the thermos from the sidewalk and screwed off the metal cap that was supposed to be used as a cup. Something jumped into the air, flying over my shoulder and startling a yelp from me. I fumbled the thermos and it hit the ground with a clang. "Fucking Phoebe," I said with a growl. I picked up the thermos and glared at the spring loaded fake snake that rested a few feet away. I screwed off the inner cap and poured coffee into my mug. "Well, she did promise the coffee was safe."

  A helpful guard showed me into the museum once I showed him my FAB badge. He barely even gave a second glance to my irregular clothing. Many of my fellow agents wore traditional suits when they were on the job. That stuff was too heavy for me when I was in my crow form, so I wore a wide strapped black tank top and shorts that were just long enough not to be considered scandalous. Despite the cool nature of the Pacific Northwest, I never wore a coat. I ran hot, so the cold never bothered me.

  When I stepped into the main exhibit room, a wall of questioning gazes hit me so hard I almost turned around and left the room. Every one of them seemed to be asking the same thing I was asking myself: What the hell is she doing here?

  The intense scrutiny had me itching to grab for my swords. Epic was a comforting weight on my back, but grabbing him would likely result in me being blasted into next Tuesday. I settled for resting my hand on the hilt of Haiku, the smaller of my two swords, resting at my hip. "I'm Agent Sophie Morrigan," I said to the crowd when nobody stepped up to challenge me directly. I flashed my badge even though nobody could see it from that distance.

  "Sophie," called the familiar voice of Dave Hammond, my boss, and head of the Magical Object Division. "Over here."

  I scanned the room until I spotted the tall, bony man off to my right. He waved me over and the room resumed the quiet drone of an ongoing investigation. As I made my way to his side, I was assaulted by the smells of various fae magics. Magic tended to smell the same for most species of fae, but stronger fae often had a secondary scent unique to them that overlaid their main one.

  The characteristic hot metal smell of dragon washed over me, followed by the cinnamon that was Owen's alone. I stopped short when I saw him shake Hammond's hand. "What are you doing here?" I asked, ever tactful.

  Hammond answered instead. "Mr. Kinney is representing his parents' interest in the stolen scepter."

  Owen gave me a strange grin that was somewhere between his usual cockiness and embarrassment. "Hello, Sophie," he said, offering me his hand like this was a regular business meeting. I took it because it would embarrass him if I didn't, and he already looked uncomfortable enough. Surprisingly, it wasn't awkward. The quick touch of his hand was somehow both professional and familiar. I almost ruined it by not letting go at the appropriate time. I blamed my sleep fogged mind and took a sip of my coffee.

  "Hello, Owen," I replied. "What interests do your parents have in this scepter?"

  Owen tilted his gaze to the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. "They own it. It was on permanent loan to the museum."

  Hammond cut into our conversation. "The scepter was stolen shortly after midnight. The thieves were well prepared, bypassing the magical security measures in place on the scepter in mere minutes. We wouldn't have known the scepter was even missing if it weren't for the human security measures the museum had in place. As it is, we still don't know what kind of fae we're dealing with."

  "Magical residue?" I asked.

  "None, and that includes the security measures."

  So they'd wiped it. That was advanced. "All right. What is the scepter?"

  Hammond groaned and pointed to the plaque on the marble pedestal we were gathered around.

  "Scepter of Sight," I read aloud. I scanned the smaller text explaining the item's purpose. "Why is this so dangerous? It sounds like a glorified version of those glasses Clarissa used to see through glamour."

  Hammond shook his head and grunted, leaving Owen to explain. "It works on the same principle, only on a much larger scale."

  I rolled the thought through my mind for a while and said, "How much larger?"

  "All of Volarus larger," said Owen, his gaze traveling upward as if he expected a human to drop from the ceiling. "Judging by the look on your face, you understand the implications."

  I wasn't entirely awake, but he'd made it perfectly clear. I snapped my mouth shut when I realized it was hanging open. "We're talking about complete exposure to humans."

  "Bingo," said Hammond, pinning me with his gaze. "Drink some more of that coffee so you don't embarrass me any more than you already have."

  I glared back at him and pointedly lowered my cup of coffee from the sip I was about to take. "What the hell is your problem?" I growled. It probably wasn't wise considering he was my boss and I'd barely managed to keep my job on my last big case. I'd caught Clarissa, but not before she'd wreaked havoc, ruining a market and murdering several pixies. He still wasn't happy about me destroying all the investigations that were ongoing in the black market that no longer resided in Michigan, thanks to my run in with Clarissa. But, I'd never claimed to be wise, especially not at six in the morning. "You've been up my ass since I got here. If you didn't want me, why did you call me?" Owen's sheepish look pulled another growl from my throat. "If you had anything to do with this, you can forget about that da--trip to the aquarium." I'd almost said date in front of my boss. I wasn't sure why that made me blush, but it did.

  Hammond seemed torn between ripping me a new one for the way I'd spoken to him and grinning like he knew something I didn't. "Mr. Kinney's parents requested you specifically. It sounds like someone has been talking you up, though I can't imagine why." The half-grin slid from his face. "I didn't ask for you. You're only here because no one says no to the Kinneys."

  Owen's cheeks turned red, but it wasn't with embarrassment. The hot metal and cinnamon scent of his magic filled the air. "I'll fill Sophie in from here, Agent Hammond," he said, somehow managing to make it sound like an offer of help rather than the dismissal it was.

  "Good, I've got better things to do," said Hammond, and stomped off to harangue a group of agents with cameras.

  I turned on Owen before he could hit me with his charming smile. "So, who exactly are your parents?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee. I had a feeling I was going to need it for this conversation. It had always been clear to me that Owen had issues with his parents, so I'd avoided asking. Apparently, avoidance wasn't a luxury we could afford the issue any longer.

  "Lana and David Kinney. My mother is a member of the fae council. Though everyone is officially an equal on the council, most consider Lana to be the head." His words were cold and clipped. They had the sound of a prepared speech given to an angry crowd.

  My mind whirled. I didn't get into fae politics, but the fae council was the top governing body of all fae in Volarus and on Earth. I got the feeling that if any sort of order could be imposed on Faerie, they would rule there too. If there was something the fae council wanted, they got it. And apparently, in this case, that was me. I wasn't sure whether I should be proud or terrified, so I settled into old habits and went with angry. "Why the hell didn't you tell me who your parents were?" I swatted Owen on the shoulder and he had the good sense to flinch as if I'd hurt him.

  "Everyone always knows," he said. "I was surprised you didn't, and then I liked it. I wanted you to get to know me for who I was and not who they are." His eyes focused on something that I was certain wasn't in the room. "I don't want to be in their world, but when something like this comes up, I can't exactly turn them down."

  "Well, evidently,
neither can I." There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but this wasn't the time or place. We had an investigation to get to. "Do we have a list of suspects?"

  He nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips and then disappearing with the gravity of what he said. "Only about every revelationist in Volarus," he said. At my shocked expression, he explained. "They are a secretive branch of fae who want to come out to the humans. That's why my parents have me here. They can't risk having a revelationist assigned to the case. They know I can be trusted. And by extension, they trust you."

  The fae council wanting to expose the fae to the humans? This whole thing was way above my pay grade. At the same time, I felt responsible to do everything I could to stop it. All of Earth knowing about the fae was more than terrifying; it was the worst case of any scenario. It went apocalypse, and then narrowly below that, human exposure. My mind pictured internment camps and reservations for the weaker fae. If there was one thing humans had proven over the years, it was that they feared what they didn't understand. With the fae, it wasn't entirely unwarranted. There were any number of nasty creatures among the fae, but they'd always done their best to go unnoticed by the human world. If we were all exposed, it could mean an all out war. While the powerful among the fae might believe they could squash the humans without trouble, I had my doubts. Either way, I was sure I didn't want to live in that world. The idea that things could go on much the way they were once humans were made aware was almost laughable. Certainly, everything would change.

  We had to find this scepter before it could be put to use. Life as I knew it was at stake.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The rest of the agents cleared the crime scene with an efficiency I admired, even if they continued casting annoyed glances my way while they did it. There wasn't much at the scene for me to go on. I hoped their reports offered more insight. It seemed most likely that the culprits had been fae because the museum was in Volarus and witches visiting the city were carefully monitored. The question of motive was still pressing. Perhaps it was as Owen implied and exposure was the goal, but while the scepter's magic was dangerous, it was also made almost entirely of gold and precious gems, making it priceless. Still, even if the thieves were stealing the scepter for the payday, once it was out in the world, someone was likely going to use it for its true purpose.