Chapter One
I was lost in an underground maze, getting more turned around at every corner. A sea of dead-eyed zombies surrounded me, making me feel like I was swimming upstream. And the unearthly wailing was really getting on my last nerve.
I didn’t remember the Union Square subway station being this confusing, or had I been gone from New York too long? It had only been about four months—four months of driving to work, aboveground, in an old pickup truck and with no traffic to speak of. Was that long enough to lose my subway navigation skills?
I started to head down a flight of stairs, only to realize they went to the uptown tracks. I needed downtown. Morning commuters swarmed past me, ignoring my frustration in their mindless, relentless journey to work.
I caught my bearings and headed back the way I’d come, past the woman responsible for that creepy keening sound that sent chills up my spine. It was way too early in the day to have to listen to a musical saw, I thought.
Finally, I found the right set of stairs and headed down to wait for a train. I checked my watch, then remembered that I wasn’t running late because I didn’t technically have a job. I was merely going to see if my old company would take me back, and for that, I didn’t have to be there precisely at the start of business hours. They weren’t even expecting me.
A train pulled into the station, and I let myself get pushed on board by the flood of commuters. I’d missed a lot of things about New York, but this wasn’t one of them. The subways hadn’t miraculously become better smelling or less crowded while I’d been gone. The commuters on the train with me hadn’t changed much, either. There were the business-suited types heading to the financial district of lower Manhattan, a few downtown hipsters, a couple of fairies, and an elf. Once upon a time, the fairies and elf would have startled me, but now they were just part of the landscape.
One of the fairies smirked—not at anyone in particular, but rather in that way that generally means that someone’s up to something or thinks she knows something no one else does. At the same time, a strange tingling sensation made me shiver. Someone nearby was using magic.
I tried to play it cool as I casually glanced around the subway car, looking for any sign of magical activity. A man near me had an odd, glassy-eyed look, but was that from a late night and insufficient morning caffeine levels, or was he under the influence of a spell? My question was answered when he lurched forward and took the wallet out of a nearby man’s pocket. The victim didn’t seem to notice anything as the thief moved toward the smirking fairy.
I grabbed the unwilling pickpocket’s arm and said into his ear, “Hey! Do you really want to do that?” The thief blinked, lost his glassy-eyed look, and stared in shock and horror at the wallet he held.
Before he could do anything, the victim patted his pockets, then his eyes widened and he lunged toward the pickpocket, shouting, “Thief!”
The thief’s mouth opened and closed, as if he was trying to come up with an explanation, but he still hadn’t spoken by the time the wallet’s owner reached him. But then a few other commuters took on that glassy-eyed stare and, moving jerkily like marionettes, they blocked his path.
I moved myself between the unwitting thief and the spell-casting fairy as a fight broke out and then spread from the enchanted people to the rest of the car. In the chaos, I squeezed between fighters, took the wallet out of the still-shaken thief’s hand, and then wormed my way to the victim, ducking a roundhouse punch and sidestepping a misguided attempt at a karate chop.
I had to tug on the victim’s sleeve a few times to get his attention before I could drag him out of the fight and give him his wallet. “I thought you might want this back,” I said.
He started to thank me, but in mid-sentence he went glassy-eyed and before I could react, he had his hands around my throat. I instinctively grabbed his wrists, but he was bigger and stronger than I was, and I suspected his strength was magically enhanced. I hated hurting someone I knew was an innocent victim, but I preferred to breathe, so I kicked him firmly in the shin, then jabbed his ankle with the heel of my shoe.
He let go and backed away. Over his shoulder I saw the trouble-making fairy give me a look that could have set fire to dry grass. I felt a wave of magic hit me, but since I’m immune to magic, it had no effect. The lack of effect definitely had an effect on the fairy. Magical immunes are rare, and most of us who are in on the magical secret (instead of in mental institutions, where people who think they see fairies and elves tend to end up) work for the good guys of the magical world, a company called Magic, Spells, and Illusions, Inc. MSI doesn’t sanction using magic for harm or for doing things like making other people steal for you.