Realms of Mist and Ash: Fae Witch Chronicles Book 2
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
Realms of Mist and Ash: Fae Witch Chronicles Book 2
J. S. Malcom
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Getting into Faerie is risky enough. Getting out again may prove impossible.
Entering Faerie is enough of a risk, never mind trying to free a changeling. That’s never been done before, but that’s exactly what has to happen if I’m going to rescue my best friend. So when I run into a half-blood thief who offers to help, I can’t exactly say no. I mean, the guy seriously hates the fae. After all, one of them knocked up his mother.
Digging deeper into the labyrinthine fae city kingdom, we soon start to unravel a mystery I never could have imagined. Namely, how it came to be that just a few fae now control all of the magic in their world. We also learn that some of the missing humans have been spotted. Not my friend, but we must be getting closer. But when I get waylaid by fae slave traders, find myself stripped of magic and held captive in a noble house, and discover a secret that might turn the tables of magical power in Faerie, I end up with way more than I bargained for. But I also seem to have caught the eye of a stunningly handsome fae lord. Hard to resist. And who knows? Maybe he could come in handy. Because right now it’s down to me and I’m up against a ticking clock. It’s either escape or die knowing that the next stop for fae magical conquest is the human realm.
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 1
In my mind, I see Grayson burst into a cloud of fluttering black moths, rising again toward the moon. I see Julia’s eyes flicker silvery gray, and the curl of a stranger’s smile upon her lips. As they have for days now, these same scenes keep playing over and over again. I shake my head and tell myself to snap out of it. I’m around my friends, and there’s a reason I came here tonight. I need this break. I need to clear my mind to keep from going insane.
I force myself to focus on Anna, as she draws a black card from the stack. She reads it, and then pauses for dramatic effect. “Ooh, this is good.”
Lissette narrows her eyes. “Come on. Read the card.”
Of the six of us, she’s scoring lowest in our round of Cards Against Humanity, and she’s getting testy. There’s something I never would have imagined, Lissette being the competitive one. She’s usually as placid as they come.
Anna shows us the card. “How did I lose my virginity?”
Despite everything, I can’t help but smile. Thank God it’s a card game, or I’d be squirming in my seat. I’ve gotten to know my fellow witches pretty well over the past couple of weeks, but there are definitely some things I haven’t yet explained. For example, that I spent my teenage years sharing someone else’s body.
I glance at my cards, then place one face down on the table. I wait as the others do the same.
Anna collects the cards and reads the question again. “How did I lose my virginity? Hmm, let’s see...” She reads one of our offered cards. “A tribe of warrior women.” She reads another card. “Former president, George W. Bush.” Then, another, which causes her to snort. “Centaurs.” She reads the next card. “Teaching a robot to love.” She holds just one card now, which just so happens to be mine. “Not wearing pants.”
Everyone bursts out laughing.
“Straight and to the point,” Jerome says.
“Not to mention a requirement,” Bobby says.
“I don’t know,” Wendy says. “I guess that would depend on how you define wearing pants.”
She has a point, definitely.
“That was a close round,” Anna says. “I have to hand it to whoever played the centaurs card.”
“That was me,” Jerome says.
“Of course,” Bobby says, shooting him a look.
Jerome arches his eyebrows. “Hey, I have never once ogled a horse man in your presence.”
Bobby stares back at him deadpan. “Please tell me you’re not ogling horsemen while not in my presence.”
“What about George W. Bush?” Wendy says.
“Clearly your card, then,” Anna says. “Sorry. By the way, the visuals are cringe worthy.” She does a little drum roll on the table with her forefingers. “And the winner is... ‘Not wearing pants.’”
I smile at my win, but it isn’t really heartfelt. Trying to distract myself isn’t going to work. In three days, the last hour has been the only one during which I haven’t felt tormented, frustrated and helpless. I've barely slept since discovering that Julia is now among the “missing,” one more person who physically appears to remain among us, while her essence—the part making her what she actually is—has been somehow replaced. Whether it's the one who called himself Grayson now looking out through her eyes, or some other creature, I can't say. Nor do I have the first idea what to do, other than to keep looking for a way back to that other realm. So far, all efforts have failed.
Either way, an hour appears to be all I can manage for fooling myself. I need to get moving, even if that means having no idea of where to go. I straighten my cards and push them toward center of kitchen table. “Guys, I'm sorry, but I think I'm good for tonight.”
My announcement is met with groans of disappointment. After all, we pretty much just got started.
“Actually, me too,” Wendy says. “In fact, I just imagined one of you saying that. Feel like doing something else?”
Leave it to Wendy to both mistake my meaning and think she somehow manifested my mood shift, bless her pronoia-addled heart.
I try again. “Actually, I was thinking I might—”
“Oh, I know,” Jerome says. “We could try that spell I found last week.”
Bobby's eyes light up. “Oh, right! The reverse medium spell! We've been dying to try it.”
Jerome nods,
while taking a sip of his beer. “It's supposed to work better if there's at least four people.”
Lissette perches forward. “What on earth is a reverse medium spell?” A bit of southern drawl sounds in her voice as she uses the old-fashioned phrase. I almost expect her to add an “I do declare,” but Jerome continues.
“Just what it sounds like,” he says. “You use it to call a reverse medium.”
Lissette lifts an eyebrow, letting him know he's pushing his luck with a girl who was just losing at cards.
“By which, I mean a medium who channels the living to the dead,” Jerome explains.
“That's a thing?” As a veil witch, I can't help being interested, even if part of me doesn't want to be.
Jerome grins. “I guess so. According to what I read, it's more effective if someone on the other side is concerned about someone here. Hence the recommendation that you try it with a few people present. Apparently, that increases your likelihood of success.”
“Sounds kind of necro,” Anna says, giving me a cautious glance.
As an elemental witch, Anna is more comfortable keeping her magic firmly grounded in the earth. At the same time, she's always careful not to offend those more naturally attuned to the necromantic arts. Veil witches and necromancers are not the same thing, but we often wander the same territories.
“Sounds like fun,” Wendy says. “What do we have to do?”
Only in a room full of witches would someone describe digging up a dead psychic as “fun.”
“It sounded easy.” Jerome gets up and lifts his jacket from where he left it hanging on the back of his chair. He digs through the pockets. “Remember the city coven fundraiser last week?”
Anna snorts. “You mean the garage sale?”
“Hey, it was a collective charity event,” Wendy says. “All proceeds went to support the homeless shelter.”
“As in a big garage sale,” Anna says. “With good intentions, I’ll give you that. Anyway, what about it?”
Jerome produces a plastic bag from his jacket pocket. The stuff within it is all jumbled together, but I think I spot a necklace, a golf ball, an old iPod, and a yo-yo.
Lissette stares at the bag too. “There’s a spell requiring an old yo-yo?”
Jerome spills the items out onto the table. “Technically, no. I bought this stuff just before I came across the reverse medium spell.”
Bobby scrutinizes the pile of junk. “Why did you buy an old iPod?”
Jerome gives him a mock-scowl. “Hey, that’s vintage tech right there. Plus, it’s in perfect shape.”
Anna coughs the word “hoarder” under her breath.
Jerome pretends to ignore her. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, right. So, the reverse medium spell says it’s best to have at least four people present. It also says that if you don’t have a particular dead psychic in mind, it’s worth trying an assortment of items belonging to dead people.” He gestures to the pile of junk. “I’m just assuming that at least some of the stuff being sold at the, ahem, collective charity event, aka garage sale, probably once belonged to people no longer residing in this realm. I could be wrong, of course, but people tend to donate stuff like that.”
“I suspect you’re way off course with the iPod,” Bobby says.
Jerome holds it up. “Look again. Barely used, right?”
Bobby frowns. “So?”
“Think about it. Who doesn’t use an iPod? Maybe someone’s grandmother who got it as a gift?”
Bobby lifts his eyebrows. “Hmm. Good point.”
I plant my elbows on the table. “But, wait. If I understand correctly, wouldn’t at least one of those items have to belong to a dead psychic?”
Jerome grins. “You seem to forget. The event was sponsored by your very own employer.”
By which he means my part-time employer, Grimoire, since I haven’t yet told them about my supernatural cleaning business. And he definitely has a point. What’s going to attract more psychics than a New Age bookstore?
“Okay, so let’s do this,” Jerome says.
Wendy bounces in her seat. “I claim the necklace!”
Actually, the necklace is pretty cool. Costume jewelry obviously, but nice, with three strands of faux black pearls mixed with gold and champagne accent beads.
“No one gets to claim anything,” Jerome says.
Wendy’s face falls.
This time, it’s Lissette who coughs “hoarder” under her breath.
Finally, Jerome bursts out laughing. “Guys, come on! Try to focus. Now, what we do is join hands and concentrate our energy on the artifacts.”
“Artifacts?” Anna says.
“Meaning junk,” Lissette says.
“Is there an incantation?” Wendy says. “I love incantations.”
Jerome turns to her. “Thank you, Wendy. There is an incantation. A very cool one, in fact. Ready?”
We all wait, saying nothing. Jerome sighs. “Join hands.”
“Oh, my God,” Anna says. “Seriously?”
“Do you want to meet a dead psychic, or what?” Jerome says.
“If I have to,” Anna mutters.
“I do!” Wendy says. “Do we close our eyes?”
Jerome withdraws a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and gives it a quick scan. “It doesn’t say. I guess that’s up to you.”
“Everybody close their eyes!” Wendy says.
Lissette sighs dramatically.
“Okay, everyone close their eyes while I read the incantation,” Jerome says. “Remember to concentrate on the arti— Objects. Whatever.”
“How can I concentrate on the objects with my eyes closed?” Anna says.
“Try picturing them inside your mind,” Jerome says. “Is that so hard?”
“Okay, fine,” Anna says. “No reason to get snarky.”
Jerome blinks at least five times. He speaks slowly and deliberately. “Close your eyes and concentrate. Shit, I’ll be freaking dead if this takes much longer. Are we good?”
Finally, we close our eyes and wait as Jerome recites the incantation.
“Once flesh and blood, now spirit guide. Who eases burdens on the other side. We call upon you as what we call ghost.” The paper rustles, and Jerome adds, “I guess we’re supposed to all say, ‘Please accept us as your hosts.’ At least that’s what it says here.”
“Should we open our eyes?” Wendy says.
A moment passes as Jerome considers. “I guess, after. Now say it.”
As a group, we all say, “Please accept us as your hosts.”
It’s actually a little creepy.
What's even creepier is the soft voice we hear next, as if she too has her eyes closed. “I feel someone with us now. No, it's more than one person. I think it's a group of people.”
We open our eyes and look around the room. Wendy says what we're all thinking. “Where's that coming from?”
It's a good question, since the voice seems to be disembodied.
The woman speaks again. “I hear the letter J,” she says. “Does that mean anything to anyone present?”
A man says, “I have a grandson named James. Is it James?”
A pause follows, and then the woman says, “I don't think it's James. I'm hearing something more like Jeremy. Wait. Jer.. Jer… Jerome? Yes, I think it's Jerome.”
“Look.” Anna points to the window.
Naturally, no one thought to look there. First of all, it’s night. Also, why would anyone be in the tiny yard behind the apartment building? Now we do, to see a woman peering in at us. She looks good for a ghost, slightly chubby with chin-length dark hair and a healthy glow to her skin. Behind her stands a group of people, both men and women of varying ages, all of them also trying to peer in at us.
“Can they see us?” Bobby asks.
The woman out front cocks her head in response.
“They can definitely hear us,” Anna says. “At least, she can.”
After a few moments, the woman floats into the room t
o stand a few feet from the table. “Yes, I feel them strongly now,” she says. “Very strongly, in fact. I have to say it's quite remarkable. Now, was anyone reaching out to someone named Jerome?”
Those framed in the window shake their heads. One woman says, “I don't know anyone named Jerome.”
We volley confused glances around the table. Anna whispers, “What's she doing?”
Jerome glances at the spell again. “She might still be phasing. It says here that could take a minute or two.”
I keep my eyes on the ghost and ask, “What's phasing?”
“Well, she didn't intend to come here,” Jerome says. “We sort of hijacked her signal and reeled her in. According to the notes, her perceptions should adjust shortly.”
As if on cue, the dead psychic takes a sudden breath. “Oh. There's something else here too, something forceful. Human, but also more somehow.”
All of us swivel our heads, trying to figure out who she means. Or what. The people in the window murmur in concerned tones.
“What are you?”
I turn to see the psychic's eyes boring into mine. If I was to guess, I'd say she definitely phased.
“Hi, I'm Cassie.” I offer a little wave and add, “And I'm a who, not a what.”
The psychic shakes her head, as if snapping out of a stupor. She looks around the table, taking us in, before returning her focus to me. “Yes, I see you now. I see all of you. But there's something else. I'm not quite sure what to call it, but it seems to be coming from you.”
I shrug, guessing it must be the veil witch thing she's picked up on. “I have that effect on people,” I say. “Just try to ignore it.”
By ‘people,’ I really mean ghosts. My connection with the veil often hits them on a gut level. But I’m not sure how she’ll like being called a ghost.
Jerome tries to break the moment of social discomfort. “I'm Jerome,” he says. “And these are my friends.”
“Hi!” we all say, along with a smattering of “How's it going?” and “What's up?”
The psychic ghost collects herself. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Gloria.”
“Hi, Gloria!” We all say. This is starting to sound more like an AA meeting than a magic session, but okay.
“Please forgive me if I'm wrong,” Gloria says, “but I don't quite get the feeling that any of you are connected to any of us.” She gestures to where her friends are still gaping through the window, or at least trying to.