Missing Magic

  Missing Magic

  By Karen Whiddon

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2012 by Karen Whiddon

  All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Prologue

  THE SUMMONS came with dawn, at that precise moment when the sun burst blood red over the horizon.

  Come with me.

  Prince Cenrick of Rune sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes and biting back a curse. He’d been up late, having struggled to complete his interpretation of an ancient, Runic text. He’d managed three hours sleep, at best.

  Come with me.

  Kyslandra, King Roark’s messenger, a sylph. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Cenrick saw her, hovering in the air above his bed. Drifting on a non-existent breeze, she dissipated and reformed, riding her own, otherworldly currents. Watching him, her eyes glowed scarlet in the darkness, changing to sapphire, then emerald, then gold.

  “Give me a minute,” he told her, tossing back the gossamer sheet and reaching for his robe.

  She hissed her disapproval at the delay, but waited while he dragged his robe over his head. Still groggy, he winked at her as he made his way to the crystal sink and splashed icy water on his face.

  Come with me. This time, irritation laced her whisper.

  “I’m ready.” Though he – and everyone else in the castle – knew the way to the king’s chambers, he judged it best not to annoy Kyslandra further. She’d been known to vent her ire in an earsplitting wail that turned the blood cold. That was the last thing he needed after less than three hours sleep. No thanks.

  Trudging the deserted hallways with the sylph drifting on ahead, he tried to think of what he’d possibly done to cause this early-morning summoning. He came up blank.

  Finally, they reached the massive, obsidian crystal doors of the King’s bedchamber. As Cenrick reached for the silver handle, the sylph vanished in a puff of energy.

  “Come in.” King Roark’s voice sounded tired, more exhausted than Cenrick had ever heard him.

  Entering and closing the door behind him, Cenrick was startled to note the Mage of Rune was also present. Mort looked wide awake, his lined face uncharacteristically worried. Tinth, his pet hawk – some said his familiar – perched on one shoulder.

  An air of tension, worry, and unease, made the atmosphere feel heavy. Though only early autumn, the morning air carried enough chill for them to have lit a fire in the crystal hearth.

  “Father?” Cenrick froze, an awful thought seizing him. “Is it Alrick? Has something happened to my brother?” Ever since his twin brother had bested a powerful Mage from the future and decided to permanently live among humans with his wife Carly and soon-to-be-born son, Cenrick had worried. Alrick hadn’t traveled to earth as often as Cenrick. Preferring to remain in Rune and live by the old ways, Alrick didn’t know nearly as much about humans or their customs as Cenrick.

  King Roark stroked his beard. Though his years numbered well over three hundred, he still retained a younger man’s handsome visage. He chose the snowy, white, facial hair for effect. The same went for the sparkling diamond studs he wore in his ears.

  “No, no. Of course not.” He squinted at his son. “You’ve gone across the veil often enough to know what it’s like. I don’t understand what you fear.”

  And Cenrick wanted to keep things that way. Rune was vastly different than the human world. In the many occasions he’d visited, he’d seen enough of the vicious and vie side of human nature to know exactly what some were capable of.

  Even against Fae. He would never understand why so many of his kind wanted to live there.

  Exhaling, Cenrick relaxed slightly. “Then what?”

  Mort, the Mage touched his arm. “It’s Talmick, your third cousin. He’s in trouble again.”

  “Talmick? I thought he was past all that.” Looking from one to the other, Cenrick wondered at the two older men’s solemn faces. In the past, Talmick’s scrapes had been minor. “How serious is this?”

  “Very serious.”

  “Father, I know I haven’t seen Mick in a couple of years, but you know how close we were as children. While I’ll admit he is a bit mischievous, he means no harm. Like most of our kind, he merely likes to have a bit of fun among humans.”

  Instead of lightening, King Roark’s frown deepened. “That’s what makes this so horrible. This is not one of his usual pranks.”

  Cenrick crossed his arms. “Last I heard, ever since he met Jack, he’d settled down.”

  “So I’d believed.” King Roark sighed. “I’ve summoned him, ordered him to return to Rune from the human world, but he ignores me.”

  “What’s he done this time?”

  “If Mick is not the cause of this…” For a moment the Mage appeared at a loss for words. “If Mick is not the cause of this, then he is in great danger. Several Fae have returned to Rune from the human realm, all of them Mick’s friends. They’ve been,” he swallowed. “Damaged.”

  “Damaged? I don’t understand.”

  “They are Soulless.” Taking up where the Mage left off, the King twisted his hands together. “Only their bodies returned. That which made them Fae is gone – their personality, intellect, spirit, all vanished.”

  “What of their magic?”

  “That too has disappeared.”

  “How?”

  “We don’t know. The Oracle has tried as well, and failed.”

  The Oracle had failed? Cenrick wasn’t aware such a thing could happen. She was the most powerful being in Rune. Cenrick straightened. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You must travel to the human world and find out what’s going on,” Mort said. Tinth screeched in agreement.

  “But most importantly,” King Roark stepped forward, worry darkening his gaze. “You must not place yourself in danger. As of yet the Oracle has been able to heal the others.”

  Horrified, Cenrick swallowed. “You’re saying there’s a possibility they might remain… husks?”

  Neither the King nor the Mage answered. Not good.

  “I wanted you to see them,” his father continued. “But there is not enough time. This is an urgent matter. We must stop this threat before any others are harmed.”

  Cenrick looked from one to the other. “And Mick?”

  “We think it best if you do not let him know of your arrival, at least until you’ve ascertained the situation.”

  “I understand.”

  The King nodded. “Go with Mort. He will prepare you for the journey across the veil.”

  Chapter One

  MURPHY’S LAW? Dee Bishop wrapped her hands around a steaming mug of coffee and took a deep sip, welcoming the heat as it seared her mouth and throat. They ought to rename it Bishop’s Law, after her. The way her life had been going lately, the name was particularly apt.

  She squinted as the cuckoo clock – her latest garage sale find – chimed six times. As in six o’clock. In the morning. Who in their right mind was up on a Saturday morning at such an ungodly hour? She ought to be curled up in her bed, still asleep.

  But sleep didn’t come easily these days. Not since she’d been called into the Police Chief’s office a week ago and placed on mandatory suspension.

  She had the dubious distinction of being the first female office on the South Worth Police Department to be investigated for misconduct.

  Her! The most law-abiding cop she
knew.

  Facing Police Chief Ferguson while he outlined the charges against her had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Even though they were patently false – they had to be false – she could feel her hard won respectability seeping away from her like sand from a broken hourglass.

  The disappointment in her mentor’s gray eyes had been more than she could bear, making her feel like the awkward teenager she’d once been, pretending not to care as another foster family declined to adopt her.

  Back straight, head held high, face expressionless, she’d marched from her office to her desk, retrieved her service revolver and turned it in. They hadn’t asked for her badge, not yet. That would only come if they turned the investigation over to a grand jury and she was indicted.

  Her! As one of the few female officers, she’d always been careful to do everything by the book.

  Worse yet, someone from the department leaked the story to the press. Dee made both the five o’clock news and the front page of the newspaper. Being the first female officer hired in South Worth had been a big deal in this good-ole-boy town; her disgrace was an even bigger story.

  Still, as she had growing up, she refused to cry.

  Things got worse. That night, when she’d sought out her fiancé Peter for solace, he’d unceremoniously dumped her. He’d claimed the cloud hanging over her had nothing to do with his decision, but she’d known he was lying. A respectable accountant, Peter had never been entirely comfortable with Dee’s lack of family or history. Her suspension was apparently more than he could handle.

  Still, she shed no tears, even if her nickname around the South Worth Police Department, Lucky, now seemed more of a cruel joke.

  Then, just when it seemed she’d hit rock bottom, the other shoe had dropped on her. Dropped? No, stomped was a better word.

  The one person she could count on, her best friend and the brother of her heart, Mick Morsi, had told her to stay away. On the phone, no less. He didn’t even have the courtesy to brush her off to her face.

  Finally, tears had filled her eyes as she’d stammered her disbelief.

  Had the world gone totally insane? She’d pinched herself, certain she had to be dreaming.

  Mick had always been there for her. Always. It was inconceivable that he wouldn’t be there now, when she needed him the most.

  They’d met as kids, orphans who’d been farmed out to the same foster home, and immediately become fast friends.

  Mick had taken on the role of protector, defending the younger, smaller Dee from various predators, both adult and child, and when he’d decided he wanted to make protecting children his full-time occupation, Dee had followed him into the police force.

  Mick had been on a mission, and he’d had a dream. Dee had tried to share it and they’d made a pact as officers. If they could save just one child, prevent one little girl or boy from enduring the unspeakable horrors they had endured, anything else they had to endure would be worth it.

  Now, all of that was threatened and she didn’t even know why or how.

  Mick bailing on her was the final straw. She knew Mick – he wasn’t like that. Something else had to be wrong. Something so terrible, Mick didn’t want her to know.

  With empty days looming before her, Dee decided to make it her mission to learn what the problem was. After all, she and Mick had always said there wasn’t any trouble that the two of them couldn’t handle.

  Again, she called Jack, Mick’s significant other, eve though he hadn’t answered the phone on any of her previous attempts. This time he picked up on the third ring.

  “Dee?” His normally ebullient voice sounded hoarse and congested. “Did Mick ask you to call me?”

  “No, but he’s why I’m calling.”

  “Do you know where he is?” The anxiety in Jack’s tone told her he didn’t.

  “I’m looking for him.” She explained, “I may have to go look for him tonight when he’s spinning records.”

  “He quit that job,” Jack said, shocking her. “He’s really changed, Dee. I’m worried.”

  “I’m worried too.”

  “He’s—.” A fit of coughing interrupted him, leaving him gasping for air.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve been better,” he admitted. “But we don’t need to talk about me. I was hoping you could shed some light on what’s up with Mick. Other than taking me to my doctor’s appointments, I haven’t seen much of him lately. It’s like he’s… pulling away.”

  Her heart sank. “It’s Saturday. He always stays at your place on weekends.”

  “Not anymore.” The raw anguish in his voice broke her heart. “Though he’s promised to stop by tonight for dinner.”

  Another coughing spell made her wince.

  “I’ll come by soon, I promise. I’ve got to go.”

  “All right. Back to bed for me.” He hung up.

  Since the conversation had startled her and she didn’t know what else to do, she got in her car and drove around for hours looking for Mick. She checked all of his favorite hangouts, with no success. Finally she grabbed a late lunch at Vittoro’s Italian Restaurant and headed home. As she was pulling into her parking lot, a glimmer of a plan occurring to her.

  And so, that night, as soon as the moon had risen, she’d headed over to his place, knowing he wouldn’t be home. Saturday nights, Mick worked as a D.J. at a gay bar downtown.

  She’d known he wouldn’t be home. And she still had his key – he hadn’t asked for it back. Yet.

  Parking several houses down, she strolled up the sidewalk towards his place. As a cop, she knew she’d arouse less suspicion if she acted as though she had every right to be there.

  From the street, the place appeared deserted. Not a single light illuminated any of the windows.

  “You’d think as a cop, Mick would at least have a security system,” Dee groused under her breath. This had been a running argument between them for years. Still, Mick’s distaste for alarms of all kinds would make her job as snoop a lot easier.

  She slipped around the side of the house. A light came on above the garage. Motion sensors. She froze, holding her breath.

  No movement from inside. Exhaling in a loud puff of relief, she rolled her tense neck, trying to relax. Amazing how she, who normally spent her life on the right side of the law, was entering Mick’s house uninvited. How ironic that now, since she’d been unjustly accused of all sorts of illegal activity, she actually was doing something illegal.

  Sort of.

  Mick had always told her she was welcome to drop by any time. Previously, she’d enjoyed Carte Blanc at his place. She patted her pocket and told herself it wasn’t really breaking and entering if she had a key.

  Still, she hated having to resort to dodging motion- sensor lights and scurrying like a criminal in the shadows.

  Another bulb flashed on. Cursing under her breath, Dee froze. When had Mick installed that spotlight on the side of the house? Last time she’d been out here, only a week or so ago, he’d had the usual front and back porch lights, nothing more.

  Gradually, the bulb went off, plunging her back into darkness. She had to move outside the perimeter of the sensor to keep it from flaring to life again, so she skirted the edge of the unfenced yard, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

  Next time she’d be more careful.

  Next time? As if she planned on searching Mick’s house more than once? She didn’t even know what she was looking to find, other than why he of all people, had turned against her.

  The scent of fresh cut lawn brought back memories of cookouts and Sunday afternoon walk-fests. Together, two orphans had formed the family they’d never had – and family always stuck together, didn’t they?

  Quietly, she let herself into the back door, wincing as the motion bulb flashed on.

  Heart pounding, she waited until the light clicked back off before moving. She took deep breaths, trying to steady her nerves. No matter what anyone else might say, she wasn’t
a criminal.

  Once her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the kitchen, she steeled herself to methodically search the house she knew as well as her own.

  What kind of clues she was looking for, she wasn’t certain. Anything out of the ordinary, she supposed. If she’d found something suggesting Mick had been taken over by pod people from outer space, she wouldn’t have been surprised. Not with the way her life had been going.

  Of course, she found nothing of the sort. The kitchen was neat as a pin, giving no hints. Neither the den nor the dining room yielding anything either. Out of habit she doubled back and checked the inside of the refrigerator. A half empty bottle of Chardonnay, a hunk of Brie, and a bowl of tossed salad were the only occupants.

  So like Mick.

  Smiling faintly, she made her way down the hall into the bedroom. At the doorway, she stopped cold.

  What the—?

  Unlike the rest of the house, Mick’s bedroom looked like a tornado had ripped through it. Clothes were strewn all around, on the bed, the desk and the chair, the dresser, and worse – the floor. Mick’s open closet door revealed empty hangers and shirts hanging cockeyed.

  This was wrong. Very wrong.

  Of all the things Mick was most careful with, his designer clothes ranked right up there. The man’s closet had always been a source of wonder to Dee. He’d organized the shirts by fabric and color and season. The shoes- she glanced at the closet bottom and barely suppressed a hiss – had always been arranged in boxes, by color and descending date of purchase.

  Though she loved shoes and her own collection was impressive, Mick’s organizational skills had her beat.

  Not now. Now the shoes, like the clothes, were piled willy-nilly in an unorganized heap, out of their boxes.

  The Mick she knew and loved would never have let brown leather be scuffed by black. And the suede – she shuddered. All right, her first clue that something was out of the ordinary here. But what did this mean?

  And the smell… sniffing, she followed her nose into his bathroom. The overpowering scent of Mick’s many, expensive colognes, all mixed together, made her cough and sneeze.