From Storm and Shadow: Stormfae Book 1 Read online

  From Storm and Shadow

  Stormfae, Book 1

  Rachel Morgan

  From Storm and Shadow

  By Rachel Morgan

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  Copyright © 2022 Rachel Morgan

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  A faerie girl hiding in the human realm years after her parents' murders is sucked back into the world she left behind by the boy she believes tried to kill her.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information please contact the author.

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  v2022.05.21

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  ISBN 978-1-928510-48-2 (ebook)

  ISBN 978-1-928510-49-9 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-998988-00-6 (hardback)

  For Riley,

  my bright sparkler child.

  One

  “There’s nothing there,” the girl says to the guy as they squint across the street at the nondescript door tucked into the shadows between two empty storefronts. Beside them, I step silently from a hole in the air, leaving the faerie paths behind. My body casts no shadow across the moonlit sidewalk. With glamour magic concealing me, I’m as invisible as the building these two humans are trying so hard to see. Well, the guy is trying hard, staring with such force he’s in danger of hurting himself. The girl continues to regard the door with arms folded over her chest.

  “There is something there,” he insists. “Gav swore to me he’s been inside. He said it’s completely mind-blowing. Literally out of this world.”

  The nighttime sounds of the city reach our ears: the squeal of breaks, an occasional siren wail, a dog barking somewhere nearby. Exhaust fumes fill the air, and a neon sign on the building behind us flickers and buzzes. It’s tough to imagine there’s anything ‘out of this world’ here in this unremarkable street.

  “Right. Sure,” the girl says as I step off the sidewalk and onto the street. “A ‘magical’ club owned by a ‘magical’ dude with actual ‘magical’ powers?” I can almost hear the air quotes hanging from her words. “We both know Gav is full of—”

  “Babe, come on. He said you have to believe when you look at the door. You have to like … have faith that it’s there.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  I almost snort-laugh as I cross the street. I highly doubt those two will be making it inside Riven’s club tonight. The glamour is a powerful one, hiding this place from both humans and those with magical blood. The average passerby would never know it’s here. Humans have to be invited by Riven or come along in the company of someone who already knows of this place and has seen it. And those from the fae realm need to know precisely where the club is and come close enough to pass through the glamour.

  I reach the sidewalk on the far side of the street and approach the door. Dull brown, plain, uninteresting. Possibly even a little creepy. But the moment my high-top sneakers touch the single doorstep, the glamour ripples and melts away. The polished marble steps appear first, then the impressive pair of arched doors, glass with gold doorknobs and gold filigree patterns curling around the edges. The entire entrance expands, the sparkling quartz walls seeming to push aside the surrounding buildings. And while the exterior now appears large, I know it’s nothing compared to the size of the building hidden within. I lift my eyes to the large gold letters above the door: The Gilded Canary.

  I climb the steps and reach for one of the gold doorknobs. The ring containing my employee access charm—a slim silver band with tiny flourishes etched into it—goes warm for a second. Then the door opens, releasing cool, perfumed air and the faint thump-thump of music. I step inside, leaving behind the pair of arguing humans, the guy still trying to convince the girl that the simple door they’re staring at is a secret entrance to another world. That isn’t entirely true. The Gilded Canary exists very much within the human realm, but it is dripping with magic. And to humans, that’s probably the same thing.

  The two bouncers standing inside the glittering, gold-lit foyer nod to me as I pass, my sneakers squeaking slightly on the polished floor. “Evening, Silver,” one of them says.

  “Shouldn’t you be using the employee entrance?” the other one asks, a small frown in place.

  “There’s a queue there, Niko,” I tell him over my shoulder. “And I’m late.”

  “Riven won’t be happy to hear you’re waltzing in through the main entrance,” Niko calls after me.

  “Riven won’t know unless you tell him,” I call back.

  “Riven knows everything!”

  I smile and shake my head as I reach the curtain of water droplets separating the foyer from the rest of the club. I know Niko won’t say anything. The curtain sweeps itself aside and I step into the glittering, magical in-between world of Riven Xeryth’s creation. A seemingly endless maze of dance floors, bar areas, VIP balconies, private rooms, a casino, a small theater, an enchanted fighting ring, and even a concert hall.

  The Rainbow Room is first, where aerial acrobats spin effortlessly through the air above the patrons, twirling ribbons behind them. Sprites flit between the performers, leaving trails of shimmering bubbles in the air. Waitrons adorned in silver jewelry and glittery makeup carry exotic, colorful drinks through the crowd, which is made up of faeries, humans, and halfling fae of all types—people with slender horns, bat wings, clawed feet, shimmering scaly skin. Inside The Gilded Canary, all invisibility glamours are stripped away. The impossible becomes possible. It’s a wonderland for humans. And it’s all entirely illegal.

  I assumed, when I first discovered this place, that the Guild knew nothing of it. Surely the Council would go into spasms of fury if they learned of such a place. But then I met Riven, creator of The Gilded Canary, and all he did was laugh when I asked how he managed to keep this all hidden from the Guild. “My dear … Silver, is it?” He glanced at my silver-white hair, which I hadn’t covered when I had my interview with him. “The Guild already knows.”

  Startled, I said, “But … they haven’t tried to shut you down?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they wish they could. But we have a mutually beneficial arrangement. As I’m sure you can imagine, my club is a breeding ground of illegal activity. Plenty of my employees are in a position to overhear … interesting things. As long as I continue to supply the Guild with information—in a way that can’t be traced back to me—they leave us be. So.” He regarded me with piercing dark eyes. “If you’re thinking of running off to a Guild to share your thrilling discovery of The Gilded Canary in the hopes of gaining some sort of reward, I’m afraid that will end badly for only one person. You.”

  Standing there in his office, I’d almost choked on that idea. For one thing, it would break my rule of never returning to the fae world. While I use the faerie paths to travel quickly from one point to another within the human realm, I haven’t crossed the veil back into my own world in a long time. And for another, it would be suicide to walk into a Guild. “I can assure you,” I said to Riven, “I don’t plan to go anywhere near a Guild—or any guardian—for as long as I live.”

  “Good. Now, Silver—” he said my name in a way that suggested he thought I’d made it up “—why don’t you show me what you can do?”

  As it turned out, he was pleased with my demonstration. I’ve been working here two or three night
s a week ever since.

  I slip between the dancing, spinning bodies in the Rainbow Room as quickly as I can and make for the mirrored passageway that connects this dance area to the next one: the Gold Floor. Inside the passage, I glance sideways to double-check the glamour enchantment for my hair. Shoulder length, dead straight, ink black. A satisfied smile touches my lips as I continue walking. More powerful than the type of glamour I could cast with my own magic, this particular spell works on fae as well as humans. My own hair—white blond streaked with literal silver—is far too noticeable, even in a place like this where almost every second person is a dazzling splash of color. Brunette and tangerine, blond and aquamarine, black and violet. Faeries are hard to miss with their two-toned hair and vibrant eyes, and I prefer to draw as little attention as possible.

  The Gold Floor has a more sophisticated feel than the Rainbow Room, with metallic finishes and sparkling diamond-like embellishments, not least of which is the enormous chandelier of cut-glass crystals. Icicle-shaped drops hang from the lower part of the arrangement, the largest icicle at the center seeming to glitter with more than just refracted light. The music in here is slow, seductive, a liquid beat pulsing through my body.

  I head straight for the sleek, metallic bar curving along one side of the room, aware—as I told Niko—that I’m running late, but also conscious of the fact that I need to collect something from Mel before her shift ends. I reach the bar and lean casually on it, pretending I have all the time in the world. “Hey, Mel,” I call out to the woman with black hair and scaled skin.

  “Silver! Hey, babe.” She leans across the bar, clasping my left hand as she loops her other arm around me. Something small and hard presses against my palm as we half-hug across the bar. “For Goldilocks,” she whispers in my ear before pulling back. My hand closes around the small object. It feels like a ring. What secrets or magic it may contain, I have no idea. My only job is to pass it on to Goldilocks, who will make sure whatever crime this ring-shaped item is related to doesn’t happen. “You’re on tonight?” Mel asks with an easy grin, as if the exchange never happened.

  “Yeah, in a few minutes.” I slide the small object deep into one of my pockets.

  “Better hurry,” she says with an arched brow. “Klyde will be getting his panties in a twist.”

  I laugh as I turn away. “His panties can twist themselves all the way up his—” My words die at the back of my throat as my gaze lands on the guy just a few feet away from me. He’s reaching for a glass from a passing tray, and his sleeve has pulled up an inch or two to reveal something on the inside of his wrist: dark, swirling patterns.

  My heart slams against my ribs, and I’m instantly lightheaded from the flood of adrenaline. The man lifts the glass to his lips, his gaze sliding toward me, but I’m already turning away. I face the bar and lift my right foot onto the nearest stool, pretending to casually redo my laces while I try to remember how to breathe.

  “Everything okay?” Mel asks.

  “Yeah,” I manage to say, my eyes darting across my forearms as I mentally catalog the numerous charms hidden there. A thick leather cuff with an oval-shaped moonstone pressed into it encircles my left wrist. On my right is a multilayer wrap bracelet of leather braids, knots, stones of various colors, a few freshwater pearls, and a small silver bird with the number three engraved on its side. Each stone and pearl contains some form of magic. The majority are for emergency use only. This isn’t an emergency, I remind myself as I attempt to stay calm. Not yet.

  I straighten, still facing the bar, and pat both jacket pockets. Cell phone in one, amber in the other. I withdraw the amber. From a distance, it could be mistaken for a phone—slim, glossy, rectangular, serves the same purpose—but anyone close enough would see that its translucent surface remains blank instead of lighting up to reveal numbers, apps, and photos.

  I slip my stylus out of the same pocket and write across the amber’s surface. I’m not supposed to contact Riven directly, so I write a message to his assistant Lily instead. Urgent! Just spotted a guardian on the Gold Floor. Brunette and red. Magic flows out of my fingers and through the stylus, making the words glow as they appear on the amber. They remain visible for a few moments, then vanish. My intention, plus the magic bleeding through the stylus, are enough to send the message to the right person.

  I continue walking, amber clutched in my hand, and Lily’s reply comes moments later. I scan her neat, almost childlike script. Relax. He’s Riven’s new contact at the Guild. They have a meeting tonight.

  My pulse slows. My hands stop sweating. I grip the stylus with a little less force as I swipe her message away and write another one. When you see him, tell him to hide his markings better. Unless he’s hoping to get himself killed. Then I slide the amber and stylus back into my pocket and increase my pace. I’m definitely late now.

  I leave the Gold Floor behind and head through the arched passageway that leads to the private rooms. One of the doors opens as I pass it, and I catch a glimpse of thousands of tiny purple birds fluttering toward the ceiling, which is enchanted to look like a galaxy of stars. Delighted laughter reaches my ears, and then it’s gone, swallowed up by the frenetic drum beat emanating from the room next to it. I hurry past all of them, aiming for the employees-only door at the end of the passage. With a nod to the centaur who stands guard beside it, I open the door—the employee access ring warms briefly on my finger—and slip through.

  The backstage area, accessible from numerous points throughout the club, is a tangle of dressing rooms, bathrooms, offices, and training areas for fighters and other performance artists to practice in. I navigate the passageways with ease and speed, ducking quickly into the room I share with five other fighters. Couch, dressing table, mirror, lockers. We don’t need much else.

  My phone buzzes as I reach my locker. A message from Teddy. Got takeout! Come over when you’re done. Teddy thinks my evening shifts take place inside a university library. He’d probably faint if he knew the truth.

  Thanks! I type quickly before shoving the phone back into my pocket. Then I remind myself to hurry up. Jacket off, necklace on, mask secured, locker shut. And then I’m off, the other performers in the backstage corridors passing in a colorful blur. I hurry into Competitor Lounge A, the muffled roar of cheers and applause reaching my ears. Two other fighters—scheduled to go on after me, if I remember the line-up correctly—are already there.

  “Silver!” The furious hiss comes from the other side of the room beside an open doorway filled with white mist so thick it’s impossible to see through it. Klyde stands there, hands on his hips and his ever-present amber tablet floating in the air beside him. His hair, a shock of crimson and blond, is even more unruly than usual. He glares at me, and since he’s a faerie and his eyes match his hair, I’m glaring back at a fiery gaze so intense it’s almost burning. “You’re late,” he snaps, marching over and tugging me toward the mist swirling in the doorway.

  “I’m perfectly on time.”

  “The last two fights ended earlier than expected. This is why you’re supposed to be here at least—”

  “Has my fight started yet?”

  “No, but Hemlock’s about to announce you—”

  “Then I’m not late.” I take a step toward the mist, but he grips my upper arm and pulls me back against his chest. “Be careful, Silver,” he breathes into my ear. “You’re not so good that Riven won’t get rid of you if I tell him you’re not taking his rules seriously. I’ve been here far longer than you have.”

  I resist the urge to shove an elbow into Klyde’s gut and instead shrug him off. I wish I could tell him that I am that good, that I could be crowned Champion every night if I actually tried. But he would laugh in my face since he’s never seen a shred of evidence to back this up. So all I say is, “Get off me. Flaming Peacock and I have a fight to get to.”

  “Sadly,” Klyde says, a sneer in his voice, “the lovely Peacock didn’t show up tonight. But we do have someone new. Someone des
perate for a fight. So instead of starting this mysterious someone at the bottom, I mixed things up a bit. Decided to give you a little fun.”

  I twist to look over my shoulder. “And does Riven know you’re changing things up behind his back? Throwing unvetted fighters into the—”

  “Riven trusts me to put together the type of show that will keep patrons salivating for more.”

  “Well, I assume she’s good then. I’d hate to get bored out there and disappoint the audience.”

  His sneer lifts a little higher. “Oh, trust me. He is very good.”

  If Klyde is hoping to scare me, he’s going to be disappointed. I don’t care who I’m paired up with. In the end, I always choose to lose. Showing the patrons of The Gilded Canary what I’m truly capable of has never been an option.

  With a sigh and a shake of my head, I turn from Klyde and face the doorway. Wrapping my hand around the chunky stone hanging from my necklace, I squeeze hard and whisper a few words. The enchantment the costume department created for me bursts into life with a prickle that runs all the way down my spine. Then I step right up to the eddying mist that separates me from the enchanted arena, breathe out a slow, steadying breath, and picture myself as the person my opponent will see me when I appear on the other side: The Black Bateleur.

  My clothing is simple enough—a black tank and stretchy black pants—but my mask, perfectly contoured to the upper half of my face, is covered in silky black feathers that gleam with a blueish purple sheen wherever the light catches them. The black feathers that sprout in wing formation from the enchantment running down my back shimmer with the same glossy purple blue.