Natural Dual-Mage (Magical Mayhem 3)

“You’re a nasty little creature, aren’t you?” I asked as I carefully placed my next step, slowly drifting into the clearing. I eyed the nearest tree trunk, carpeted with moss, sprigs jutting out of it like a twisted porcupine. Dead leaves caught in those tiny branches nearly obscured a little hole at the bottom.

Breathing heavily, I stalked closer, scanning the area before narrowing my focus back to that hole. Prickles of warning rolled over my skin. Something had its focus on me—I could feel it. If it wasn’t the goblin; it was something else just as dangerous.

“Does it change size?” I called out as quietly as I could, bracing for something to run out at me. I chanced a glance up, just in case. It had been in the tree a few moments ago, after all. After seeing me, it had transformed to its goblin form and scampered down so fast that I’d nearly peed myself.

“I’ve heard the really powerful ones can, to a certain degree.”

“I saw it change shape from an old man to a hunched…goblin-like creature.”

“Wow, you nailed that description. You should be a report writer for the MLE office.”

I ignored her teasing. “It doesn’t shift into anything else, does it?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Why an old man?” I asked myself softly, scanning the area. Reagan shifted, and brush crackled under her heavy boots. “Would you find a way over here? It’s here, not there. A little help would be nice.”

“Nah. It’s more fun when the mark chases you around.”

My positive and upbeat mood withered. “How you have any friends, I do not know.”

“Me neither. It’s a mystery.”

The vile magic continued to pulse in the air around me, filling my mind with images of ancient ruins, battles waged and lost, and dusty, wind-swept plains.

The last didn’t make sense to me unless it was in a world other than this one, of which there were apparently two. The Realm, for magical folk, and the Underworld, for demons and the like. I hadn’t been to either.

A slow exhale, and I was inching closer to that hole, pulling elements out of the mass above me and winding them into a loose weave. It was an attack spell starter weave—ready to be hurled at the enemy after I stuffed in another component or two. I’d devised this approach when training with Reagan so I could get closer to matching Emery’s speed in creating rapid-fire spells.

“Don’t jump out at me,” I whispered, drawing closer to the hole as a furious tingling overcame my body. My legs started to tremble, and my Temperamental Third Eye insisted I brandish a sword and go on a killing rampage.

My Temperamental Third Eye, something much like intuition but a lot more persistent, had saved my life more than once. Even so, it had always been wonky, and after our huge battle with the Guild’s hired thugs, it was downright screwy. The thing wanted me to be like Reagan, unhinged and ready to charge into a battle at any moment.

I now actively ignored it, lest I lose my grip on reality.

“Are you hiding in there?” I whispered, feeling the expectation around me rise. Feeling danger draw closer.

I dashed forward and kicked into the hole to clear the way before blasting magic in it.

Rustling sounded behind me.

I spun and threw another spell, green flying through the empty air. A single branch waved. Neither an old man nor a goblin was perched on it.

Dancing backward, I bent to look at the hole at the base of the tree. It gaped emptily up at me.

“Why’d you pick such a small hole to accost?” Reagan called over in a voice suggesting she badly wanted a seat and some popcorn with which to watch the show.

“Because things always seem to jump out at me, and to do that around here, it would have to be in that hole. I figured I’d beat it to the punch.”

“Umhm.” This would be when she put a few more popcorn kernels into her mouth.

I pushed her from my mind and crouched, turning in a circle. The branch above me waved to a slow stop. The wind worried the leaves on the ground, creating a tiny amount of movement. Everything else was still.

“That thing might not be silent, but it is very, very quiet.” Forcing myself to remember to breathe, I scanned the mossy trunks until my eyes landed on the messy branches reaching overhead. If that thing dropped down on me, I’d lose it. I would absolutely lose it. The only thing worse than the unknown jumping out at you like a bloody jack-in-the-box was it thunking down onto your head like bird poop.

“How many groups have tried to catch this thing, did you say?” I asked, getting another starter spell ready, knowing it could see me from its hidden location. I felt its eyes digging into my back. Its magic festering within mine.

Kill. Soak. Ruin.

Soak. It wanted to dip its hat in my blood.

“Your attachment to messed-up fashion is freaking cracked, did you know that, you miserable, buck-toothed donkey?”

Much to Reagan’s dismay, I hadn’t gotten any better at swearing. I couldn’t, not with my mother around. She’d stayed in New Orleans after that last battle. Every time I thought of swearing, there she was, ready to lecture me. It wasn’t worth the hassle for an f-bomb. It really wasn’t.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to follow its magic back to the source. But it hung in the air around me, floating like fog, listless and lazy. I couldn’t get a reading.

“Two groups,” Reagan answered. “The first group was just assessing the situation. One of them lost an arm and bled out.”

“Bled out…like bled to death?”

“Yeah. Died.” She paused, probably to see if I’d ask another rush of questions, like why she hadn’t shared that chestnut before I accepted the gig. “The next group was supposedly Ireland’s best. Two guys and a girl. Tough as nails, I heard. As experienced as they come, and boasting a near-perfect capture record.”

“They couldn’t find it, or…?”

“Oh no, they didn’t find it. The Redcap found them. That’s what usually happens. People don’t see it, they go wandering by, and it springs out at them and goes to work. A couple seconds is all it needs. Or so I was told by the local MLE office.” I could imagine her waving a hand dismissively. “Stories always get bigger, and the enemy more extravagant, when someone fails.” She paused for a second, and branches creaked overhead, gently swaying in the breeze that had kicked up. Freezing air slid across my cheeks, and my nose started to run from the intense cold. “Of course, one of the bounty hunters from the last team did get torn up pretty badly…”

Her voice trailed away and I stiffened. “Did he or she die?”

“Yeah. He didn’t even get a chance to bleed out. They dragged him out as the creature scampered away with its bloody hat. The other two wouldn’t go back in. They were rattled. Said this Redcap is much more powerful than the rest of its kind.” She huffed. “But like I said, stories always get bigger to justify a failure.”

I clenched my teeth as I worked my way back toward more of the fairy stuff, the vibrant pops of color distracting among the muted greens and browns. The magic seemed thicker over here, pumping into the air in waves. The smooth trunks and bare branches didn’t harvest any ugly old men, though. No large red eyes blinked at me from the soft shadows in the overcast day. Everything looked peaceful. Serene.

“It should be here,” I whispered, frowning. I turned in a circle, my senses screaming at me. The source of the corrosive magic was in my vicinity. I could feel it.

But where was it?

“People just go wandering by, huh?” I asked quietly, my footfalls soft, my hands held out and ready. I couldn’t feel my fingers. Magic twisted and boiled above me. My upbeat mood was long gone.

“Yeah. The MLE office says no one knows how the hell they missed it. One second it was all clear, and the next they were ambushed. But there didn’t seem to be anywhere for the creature to hide.”

“Hidden in plain sight,” I said softly, trying to work out this problem.

A birdhouse on a stick, unpainted and constructed of faded wood, rose to my left, not nearly as fresh and cheery as the rest of the fairy village. Possibly it was a relic from the time before the village had been created as an attraction for the local children.