Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (4 page)

Thankfully, she had all-wheel drive—her sleek Audi sedan had been destroyed by the Order during the Labor Day madness and she’d replaced it with a more practical Audi wagon. She pulled carefully out of the lot and onto the road. It was clear and dry, but wouldn’t stay that way once she got out of the city.

When she stopped to gas up the car and grab some coffee for the road, she texted Russ she was on her way. He texted back immediately. He worried less now about her driving through the forest surrounding Eldrich, but he still wasn’t comfortable with her being out there alone after dark.

Meaghan might be immune to magic, but she wasn’t immune to swords, spears, or claws. She was feared and mistrusted throughout the magical worlds for her perceived role in the destruction of Fahraya. A wrong turn through a gateway and Meaghan could find herself very far from home, surrounded by enemies.

She knew enough to stay to the paved roads and she was immune to magical efforts to entice her into the thick trees or trick her onto a twisty logging road to nowhere. And she knew that if she got lost, she should call for help—if she had a cell signal—or wait for someone to come find her. Meaghan never entered the forest without letting somebody know her route and expected arrival time. Even those residents who were in denial about the area’s supernatural aspects made sure to check in with somebody before entering the forest.

The forest was not a place to wander.

Witch Hollow Road, the main road into Eldrich, remained clear and dry. She began to relax and drive faster.

When she hit the black ice, her first thought was
idiot, you’re going too fast.
The car spun in a full circle, slid gently sideways down a small incline into a snowbank, and stopped. The landing was so soft the air bags didn’t deploy.

Meaghan pushed at her door, but the snowbank blocked the driver’s side. Cursing her stupidity, she scrambled over the console and crawled out the passenger door to examine the car.

There didn’t appear to be any damage. Using the flashlight app on her phone, she peered into the several-inches-wide gap between the left side of the car and the snowbank. Everything looked fine there. The tires, the top half at least, looked okay. The bottom half were buried in the thick wet snow.

Meaghan had learned enough about winter driving to know that, even with all-wheel drive, she wasn’t going anywhere without help. She felt a bloom of anxiety in her gut, which blossomed into fear when she discovered she had no cell service.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Meaghan struggled through the snow to the road to see if she could get a signal there, but no luck. She took a few more deep breaths.
Okay, time for Plan B.
Her only option was to wait in the car until help showed up. If she didn’t make it home soon, Russ would come find her.

“If I don’t freeze to death first,” she said out loud. She was immediately sorry she’d spoken. The words sounded flat, as if the air were absorbing the sound waves like a dry sponge.

Something’s out there
. An ancient part of her brain told her a predator was watching. Hair standing up on the back of her neck, Meaghan whirled around trying to see into the blackness on either side of the road.

Get in the car. It’s safe in the car.
Trying to hide her panic, trying not to run, Meaghan picked her way carefully down the small, icy bank.

A shadowy figure crouched near the passenger door. Dread rose in Meaghan’s throat, then she remembered the phone in her hand, useless for communication, but still a functioning flashlight.

She clicked on the light and pointed it ahead of her.

Nothing was there.

Meaghan snorted in disgust.
Dopey me, afraid of the dark.

Then she looked down and saw the small footprints. Something
had
been there. Unable to smother the whimper in her throat, Meaghan charged for the passenger door, tore it open with shaking hands, and dove inside. She locked the doors and shone the tiny beam of white light behind her. She scrambled into the backseat and checked the cargo area.

The car was empty.

She pulled out the survival kit Russ had insisted she carry and crawled back to the front seat. Meaghan weighed which seat to slide into—control or escape?—and chose the driver’s seat. The car wasn’t going anywhere, but she could use the horn and lights and manage the heater, and, besides, there was no way in hell she was going outside.

Save the phone and car batteries
, she thought. Fighting her fear, Meaghan shut everything off. The dark silence settled around her.
Get a grip. You’re surrounded by steel
.

Iron and steel were impervious to magic, but cars weren’t invulnerable, Meaghan knew. Natalie had once blasted the doors off an SUV by exploiting a slightly opened window. Glass wasn’t impervious and neither was plastic or rubber or aluminum. But a car was enough of a barrier to scare off casual predators. Most scary monsters would wander off in search of easier prey.

Except for the ones who’d love to kick my ass
. She shivered, pulled the space blanket thingy out of the survival kit, and hunkered under it to wait for Russ.

Something else got there first.

She saw the shadows slink from the trees and surround the car. They weren’t from the Order. Too short. The Order contained children, but they weren’t sent out as decoys and magic fodder until they were tall enough to masquerade as full-grown wizards. Meaghan had grown adept at telling the difference. The dangerous wizards were well fed, while the decoys were bony and half starved.

Leprechauns?
She dismissed that idea immediately. The figures outside were a bit too tall and the leprechauns liked her, as far as she could tell. And even if they didn’t, she didn’t owe them money, their magic didn’t work on her, and leprechauns generally didn’t slink. Leprechauns were thugs, but direct and plain dealing thugs.

There was an element of theater to this . . .

The fair folk—was she finally meeting the notorious fair folk?

Chapter Five

T
HE FAIR FOLK
were a magical race with the ability to shift their appearance and manipulate magic. Unlike true shifters, who could physically rearrange their bodies, the fair folk used magic to project a desired appearance into the mind of the viewer.

Their actual name was about thirty syllables long and unpronounceable with human vocal cords, but translated into something like “glorious wonders who are better than you.”

The fair folk fed off emotional energy and were the source of much elven mythology—most particularly the tall, graceful, supermodel/movie star variety. They had a particular taste for fanaticism, judgment, and dogmatic belief, with the occasional meal of awe and wonder when they could find it. They liked to co-opt belief systems and, in addition to the glamorous elf routine, tried to pass themselves off as gods.

But they were neither. In reality, they were short and skinny with pointy ears and bad skin. Their vanity had made them hate Meaghan’s father and now Meaghan, because impervious humans could see their true faces, could see how physically unimpressive they really were. But that didn’t make them any less dangerous.

They despised the modern world, hated humanity’s ongoing advancement, hated how they were steadily losing sway over the human mind. They wanted to see the world plunged back into the pre-Iron Age. The fair folk had been waging a simmering war on humanity for centuries, possibly millennia.

Meaghan still didn’t have all the facts because, under the terms of the last truce, all references to the war in magical and non-magical lore had been expunged. The only reason she knew about the war at all was something her mother had told her in a dream when she’d first arrived in Eldrich. She still knew only the barest outlines of the story.

She reached under the seat for the tire iron her brother had placed there for her when she’d bought the car. “If I get a flat, I’ll call for help,” she’d told him.

“This isn’t for changing tires. It’s for bashing monsters,” Russ had replied. “Humor me, all right?”

“Whatever,” Meaghan had said, rolling her eyes, but she’d kept the tire iron under her seat as directed. She now sent a wordless message of thanks to her brother.

The cloaked figures surrounded the car.

Meaghan gripped the tire iron and tried to think. Physically, without magic, they were no match for her, but they could still drop a tree on her. She could hear the windows rattling and smelled burning rubber. The car wouldn’t protect her for long.

“I’ll be damned if sit here and wait for them,” she muttered. Meaghan started the car, flicking on the high beams and leaning on the horn as she revved the engine. As she suspected, the car barely moved, but the four spinning wheels showered several of the cloaked figures with muddy slush. Their disdain of the modern world caused them to sneer at technology and underestimate the power it gave humans. They jerked backwards in terror as the strange beast suddenly came to life.

Meaghan crawled over the console to the passenger seat, leaned on the horn one more time, and opened the door, the tire iron held in front of her like a club. She had no plan beyond getting out of the car. If she could get to the road, she could run. Maybe a car would pass or Russ would arrive. It was a slim chance, but better than sitting in the car like a trapped animal.

“I hate this town,” she snarled at the nearest figure. “I can’t even get home before you assholes start screwing with me.” She swung the tire iron. The figures moved back a few steps, but did not retreat. “You’re breaking the truce. And yeah,” she added sarcastically, “I know all about the war.”

The figure hissed something and the circle closed in.

If I gotta go, one of you is coming with me,
Meaghan thought as she grasped the tire iron in both hands like a baseball bat. With a wordless cry, she swung and nearly fell when the tire iron failed to connect. The figure had evaporated.

“You fuckers can teleport? Goddammit, that’s not fair!” Filled with the manic rage that she usually felt on the heels of terror, Meaghan stomped forward. “Come back here, you elven piece of shit, so I can kick your scrawny ass.”

The circle tightened, its members vanishing like smoke before the tire iron could connect.

Meaghan feinted forward, then dove to her right. This time the tire iron hit something solid.

The figure screamed and fell to the ground.

Meaghan grunted with satisfaction and charged. She straddled the creature and held the tire iron firmly across its thin neck, pinning it to the snow. The creature’s shrieks grew louder, more desperate. “Back off or I’ll lean in. My body weight is more than enough to snap his neck.”

The other figures hissed and spat, but no one moved forward.

Meaghan knew if she killed the elf, she’d lose her only bargaining chip.
Now what?
Her knees hurt and the rage-induced warmth in her limbs was already starting to abate. She had no idea how the cold affected her attackers, but she knew if help didn’t come soon, she’d be in trouble.

“Looks like we got us a standoff.”

Meaghan looked up at the sound of the deep, booming voice. In the din of the elf’s screeching, she hadn’t noticed the arrival of the pickup truck now sitting on the road above them.

The sudden beam of a spotlight blinded her. She blinked a moment and looked around. She could see the cloaked figures cowering in the bright light. She looked back toward the truck.

Silhouetted in the spotlight Meaghan saw a large man, holding a sledgehammer in one hand and a long straight stick in another. He stood silent for a moment and then said, “Hey, Meg. Nice move with the tire iron. Need a hand?”

“Terry?” she gasped.

“At your service.” He held up the hammer. “Wanna play whack-an-elf?”

“You!” One of the figures hissed at him.

“Me,” Terry said in a cheerful voice. He held up the long stick. “Steel rebar. Good for skewering. Pin and smash. You remember how good I am at that.”

The fair folk hissed and spat at each other and then vanished, leaving their companion trapped under Meaghan’s tire iron.

Terry stared down at the now crying creature on the ground. “Wow. Without the magical enhancements, these things are ugly. Almost too pathetic to kill.” He turned so the light illuminated his face. With a wide grin, he lifted the hammer. “Almost.”

The creature shrieked and squirmed, then looked up at Meaghan and said, “Spare me. Please.”

“Did you hear that, Terry? He said ‘please.’ You can see what they really look like?”

“This one, yeah, because of the iron you’re holding to his neck.”

“What did the other ones look like?”

“Like extras from the
Lord of the Rings
. Supermodels playing epic fantasy dress up.”

“That’s not how they looked to me.”

“Because you can see what they really look like,” Terry said. “They hate that. So what do you want to do with this one?”

“How dangerous is he on his own?”

Terry shrugged. “With the two of us? Not very, so long as we keep some iron on him.”