Mary Karlik - Magic Heist

THE MAGIC HARVEST SERIES

Magic Harvest

Magic Heist

THE HICKVILLE HIGH SERIES

Welcome to Hickville High

Hickville Confessions

Hickville Redemption

Hickville Confidential

Hickville Crossroads

First Published by Ink Monster, LLC in 2019

Ink Monster, LLC

4470 W Sunset Blvd

Suite 145

Los Angeles, CA 90027

www.inkmonster.net

ISBN 9781943858248

Copyright 2019 by Ink Monster LLC

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Chapter One

T he dragon-spirit within Ian stirred, and a wave of nausea swept over him. He clenched his gut and wondered if hed ever get used to feeling like a giant moth had fluttered paper wings against his internal organs. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his shirtsleeve and reminded himself the thing couldnt force a shift while he was under the protection of the holy ground. Even so, he felt its hunger for the fairies.

Which is why he stood in the alcove outside the cellar beneath the church and watched as roughly one hundred fairies danced around a glass globe. The globe was waist high to a human and inside was a glass dragon with the sword in its bellyan effigy to the battle theyd won.

It was good to see the wee folk happy, healthy, and free.

Ian blew out a long, tired breath. He was exhausted. But this was the good kind of exhaustion. The kind that happens after taking down the bad guys. The kind that follows with a few pints at the pub. But the anxiety that should have left him with the win had stuck around and twisted his gut too tight for food or drink. He had left the lads at the pub and made his way back to the church and the fairies in sanctuary beneath it.

He and his team of Specialist Crime Division officers would get the credit for taking down Connor Davis. But in the end, it was Layla, a half-human half-fairy with wild, white hair and green eyes, whod figured out how to free the fairies. It was Layla whod killed the dragon, Fauth.

Ian swallowed away the dragons hunger and eased into the room. He stayed far enough away from Layla to keep the dragon-spirit in him quiet, but close enough to feel the warmth of the bond that had been forged between their spirits during a healing ritual that had saved his life.

She was in her human-sized form clapping along to the music as the fairies danced around the dragon. Her left wing had been damaged in the fight and hung at an odd angle. Shed assured him she was fine, and it was nice to see her happyeven if behind her smile, fatigue etched her face.

Then she flicked those bright eyes at him and flashed a wide smile, and his heart threw in an extra thump, and tingles shot through him from dead center in his chest.

The feeling was probably just a side effect of that tiny piece of her soul left in him during the healingbut hed take it. He pushed off the wall and walked to her anyway. You need to rest, fairy.

Ill rest tomorrow. Tonight, I need to celebrate with my people.

Then be with them. Dance with them.

Im fine watching. Besides, half-caste dont mix with the full fairies. Her smile stayed strongeven danced a little on her lips. But in her words, he heard a lifetime of longing to belong.

She had grown up an outcast in the fairy world. And even now, after shed saved her people, she stood on the fringes of their celebration. Observing but not participating.

They gave their magic up for you, Ian said. Youre one of them now.

Her half-sister, Esme, flew to her. Hes right. Come on. Dance with us.

Go on. Get out there. He jerked his head toward the fairies.

Her wings twitched, and he saw hesitation in those green eyes, but she fairy-sized and allowed Esme to pull her into the center of the crowd. When the next cilidh dance started, she looked up at Ian and mouthed Tapadh leatThank youand he felt another jolt to his heart.

Colin MacLeod, Ians second in command, ducked through the arched doorway into the cellar. If hed left the pub to come to the church, something was up. Probably something to do with Assistant Chief Constable McIntyre and the little shop nestled in Old Town Edinburgh.

Boss. He rubbed his palm across his buzz cut hair. It was a habit that, along with his hooked nose, had earned him the nickname Buzzard. The chief is at the shop with the crime scene examiners.

We knew it was a matter of time. Ian rolled his shoulders, but it did nothing to ease the knots forming in his neck. Aye. Wed better come up with a plausible explanation for what happened. I dont think we can tell him that the shop door was blown out during a magic battle.

Ian leaned over the circle of fairies. Layla?

She flew to him and human-sized. Problem?

Maybe. Assistant Chief Constable is at the shop. Ill be back as soon as I can.

She flashed those heart-revving eyes at him again. Dont worry about us. Were not going anywhere.

Without warning, she flung her arms around him and pressed herself against him in a full body hug. Thanks for thanks for everything.

He flapped his arms in the general vicinity of her back. He knew better than to touch her wingshed been warned enough. But then he did the second worse thing he could have done. He touched a little triangle of exposed skin where her wings attached to her back. How was he supposed to know her dress didnt cover the beneath-the-wing area?

She fey-sized and shot backward. In a flash, he went from touching her to grasping air, and the change made him stumble forwardat the same she human-sized. Her face smashed into his chest.

They both backed up.

Are you hurt? He bent to inspect her face.

No. She rubbed her cheek, and he felt like he was twelve-years-old again and had accidentally touched Fiona Kennedys right boob in dance class. His face had flushed then, too. I didnt mean to Im sorry.

No. I shouldnt have surprised you. Anyway, thank you.

Its fine. It was grand. He cringed. Had he really said grand?

She nodded. Good. Well, your chief is waiting.

Right. He turned and slammed into Buzzard. Warn a man the next time youre right behind him.

Sorry. The lads are waiting at the shop.

Then lets be off. Ian jogged up the spiral steps and through the secret door leading to the church. As he walked through the nave, he glanced at a painting of St. George slaying the dragon and prayed for strength. Deep within him, rage boiled and hate swelled as the dragon-spirit gathered its power.

When he pushed through the church doors, the dragon-spirit surged, and anger flared. He swallowed hard and focused on tamping the feeling down. But by the time hed reached the kirkyard gate, kaleidoscope colors swirled before him, and he knew as soon as that iron gate clanged shut behind him, the dragon would try to take control.

He had to take control first.

Just as the ghost of Father Wilson had instructed, Ian settled an image of the painting in his mind. Filling his lungs with the crisp morning air, he imagined he was the saint holding a spear above the dragon. He closed his eyes, released his breath, and mentally drove the spear into the dragons heart. The beast fought the image, and Ian focused harder until he felt the tip of the spear drive through the dragons plated skin all the way into its heart and held it there until the beast returned to the place where it lived deep inside him.