Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(100)

Roger shifted his weight, but didn’t comment. Charity barely stopped her jaw from dropping open. Was this what Devon meant by rolling with it? She hadn’t realized Roger was capable of “rolling” with anything.

“Go ahead,” Reagan said, hefting the parcel. “Open it.”

Charity gingerly took the package, the core hard and unmoving. She peeled back the burlap, and the sun glinted on deep crimson metal. Removing the rest of the covering, she sucked in a breath.

The sword’s finely wrought handle practically glued itself to her palm, finally quelling the itch she’d felt since her power had awakened. Magic flowed out of her and into the metal, a soft hum cutting through the silence. The tip of the deep crimson blade sparked before a sheen of light flowed back over the weapon and soaked into it. She sighed, letting her eyes drift closed. The hilt in her hand felt…divine. Perfect. She didn’t even feel the need to sprint at the onlookers and cut off their heads. She was content to hold it in the sunlight, feeling the warmth on her face and in her body.

Reagan stepped back. “Welcome to magic. We have the coolest stuff.”

“The magical properties of that blade can be altered, depending on how your magic grows,” Roger said. He gestured Charity closer. “I had the maker—Dizzy—research the types of blades warrior fae used back when they roamed the Brink. He fashioned something in that vein.”

“My mother gave it some finishing touches, based on what she saw,” Penny said.

“What she…saw?” Charity asked, lowering the sword to her side. She didn’t want to let it go.

Reagan grimaced. “She’s a Seer. The worst type of magic, if you ask me.”

“Please, Charity, come inside,” Roger said, putting out his hand.

Reagan frowned and turned toward him. “Since when do you ask nicely?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, now I remember. After you get thrown through a window.”

Roger’s face closed down into a terrifying mask of rage. A thread of anxiety wormed through Charity, and Devon stiffened. Unbelievably, Reagan laughed and turned, falling in beside them.

“By the way, Devon,” she said as Devon gently nudged Charity to start walking, “I heard you had a little soiree in your backyard. I’m pissed you didn’t invite me. I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to participate, what with vampire politics and all, but man, would I have liked to see Vlad’s face when Charity barbecued him. I am so sorry I missed that.”

“The ward was poorly done if a bunch of vampires could break through.” Penny looked out toward the trees. “We can keep it roughly the same size, Roger, but I wouldn’t be opposed to adding some booby traps. Charity’s magic is fascinating. Bold and electric. It has this”—Penny closed her eyes and tilted her face upward—“lightness to it. Pureness.” She smiled and touched her middle. “It feels good. Like the pulse of life. I can see why shifters are drawn to it.”

Charity swung the sword, just to feel its weight. “What magic do you have?”

“She’s a natural dual-mage with spunk.” Reagan winked at Charity. “She stole the spunk from a nasty little goblin.”

“I didn’t steal it,” Penny replied with the annoyance of a woman who was tired of this topic. “I inherited it.”

“You ripped it out of its grubby little hands when you killed it,” Reagan shot back with an evil grin.

Penny frowned at her then shifted her focus to the driveway. “As I was saying, Charity’s magic has less finesse, but that’ll actually make it easier for the ward. I can weave elements of her ability into the traps. Now…” She put out a finger, and the rest of the group stopped next to her. “It might blow off someone’s leg. That’s the downside. But only vampires or demons will set off the trigger, so…”

“You can do that?” Charity asked, swinging her sword again.

“It’s a great big world, lady,” Reagan said. “You haven’t even scratched the surface.”





Chapter Forty-Five





Devon kept a firm hand on Charity, remembering his induction to magic and knowing Charity would need a little support. The team Roger had amassed here included what was probably the most powerful magical talent in the Brink. He didn’t even know what Reagan’s magic was, just that it had turned the tide in that battle with the mages, and he’d never seen or smelled anything like it. She and her crew collectively possessed a level of experience that was probably boggling Charity’s mind.

“Shall we step inside to speak with Karen?” Roger asked, gesturing toward the door.

Devon nudged Charity gently, watching her move that crimson sword in tiny circles. The tip sparked, and occasionally a zagging line of electric magic crisscrossed the blade.

“Who is Karen?” Charity whispered, glancing at Reagan, who nodded and stepped away. She wouldn’t be following them into the house. Thank God for small miracles. The woman was unpredictable, and anything might set Charity off right now.

Karen, Penny’s mom, an older woman with intelligent blue eyes and an impatient air, waited for them in the dining room. Alder stood at her side, his posture stiff and arms at his back. A crystal ball sat in front of her on a black velvet mat. Next to that was an old and badly worn stack of tarot cards. At the end of the setup, a martini.