Key of Magic: An action-packed Urban Fantasy (The Key Collector Book 1), page 1
Key of Magic
BOOK 1 IN THE KEY COLLECTOR SERIES
LJ NIGHT
Copyright © 2021 by LJ Night
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Dear Reader,
This is a second edition of Key of Magic, previously published under my other pen name Laurel Night. I have updated the contents and included The Magic Thief, the prequel novella, as a bonus at the end.
I hope you enjoy this refreshed story and are looking forward to more adventures with Maribel!
Cheers!
LJ
Contents
1. The Goose with the Golden Egg
2. The Mystery of the Key
3. Job 426
4. No Deal
5. Aching for a Fight
6. Seven Scars
7. The Greaseball Express
8. London Town
9. A Magical Date
10. Getting 'Lucky'
11. The Killer
12. How to Treat Your Friends
13. Painful Apologies
14. One Hell of a Nap
15. Difficult to Decipher
16. Duty Calls
17. You Call That a Safe?
18. Sexy Librarian
19. The Hooded Man
20. A Nose Spray Ad
21. Trouble With Lizards
22. A New Deal
23. Betrayal Revealed
24. A New Plan
25. The Nighthawk
26. A Ringing in my Ears
27. A New Kind of Time Travel
28. Bastien to the Rescue
29. A Dead Man's House
30. Something New to Hold
31. Comfortably Numb
32. Surprise Delivery
33. A Magial Message
34. Surprise Job
35. The Magical Key
36. Dire Straits
37. Trust & Hope
38. The Thing About Keys
39. A New Mission
Epilogue
40. Thief
41. Stuck In The Past
42. Training
43. What Do You Know Of Magic?
44. The Key
45. Secrets
46. Truth
47. The Trick
48. An Unexpected Lesson
49. Burying The Past
50. With Love, Papa
51. Hell To Pay
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About the Author
Chapter 1
The Goose with the Golden Egg
My fingers closed around the Fabergé egg and delicately lifted it from the spun gold nest. The things people consider valuable never ceased to amaze me. Sure, the intricate gold work was pretty, and it was supposed to conceal a surprising magical trinket; but for someone to want this stupid egg enough to pay my prices to get it? Ludicrous.
I wrapped the jeweled egg quickly in a microfiber cloth and tucked it into my satchel, then replaced it with the decoy. It wasn’t an exact replica, and anyone looking closely would see the difference. However, it was real gold and close enough that it’d pass, particularly in this room full of weird treasures. Once the fake was snuggled in its golden nest and the glass display case was again locked, I carefully wiped away any smudges, collected my tools, and headed back to the portal.
It was just a room away. A bizarre room, to be sure. I wasn’t sure if the solid gold goose with ruby-rimmed eyes, watching over its nest of Fabergé eggs, was the creepiest, or if the six-foot-tall, intricately carved silver grizzly bear with real ivory teeth took the cake. Either way, these glittering jewelry creatures were the only witnesses to my presence, and soon I’d just be a brief memory to this room and everything in it.
The doorway was just ahead, the door back to the future carefully propped open in the velvet shadows of this freak show house. I listened closely with each silent tread of my boots, but no sounds of movement reached my ears. When I passed through the portal, the telltale electric sensation assaulted my body and I knew I’d returned to the future. Once the door closed, I breathed a quick sigh of relief—this job took me back a few months, which was way outside my comfort zone. Getting stuck in the past sucks. It only happened to me once, thank God, but that was a memorable job to be sure. The time your father is murdered tends to stick with you no matter how many years have passed.
Not that I was completely without him. I still heard his voice in the back of my mind as I worked, repeating all the lessons he taught me, but particularly the most important. “Maribel, the first rule is: Never let the door close while you’re in the past.”
Safely back in the present, I whipped a short apron out of my satchel and tied it on—effectively concealing the small bag underneath—and straightened my black button-down shirt. Checking that my espresso-brown hair was still in a neat ponytail and schooling my features into a bland smile, I hefted the tray of canapés I’d abandoned earlier and made my way back to the party.
The owners of this mansion just moved in and were celebrating their newfound wealth with a fabulous extravaganza. It was the perfect opportunity to sneak in and steal the egg from the previous homeowners by opening a portal to the past during the party. The Guild commissioned me to locate it months ago; it was an open-ended job, more of a standing order for a collector than the jobs The Guild normally gave me. But I wasn’t one to pass up a fat paycheck for something this simple. It was just a matter of timing.
Timing was my strong suit. With the gift from my father, the magical key that allowed me to travel to the past, I always chose the perfect time to act. No matter how far in the past I needed to go, I could retrieve any item and have all the time in the world to manage it. Literally.
However, my other inheritance from my father, his debt to The Guild, continued to hang heavily around my neck. I was still waiting to be called for Job 426. My father always counted down, meaning once I completed it I’d have 425 jobs left to earn my freedom. It was back-asswards, but that was sometimes how his Puerto Rican brain worked. Out of loyalty I continued counting down his way, instead of up as normal people would.
Once I emptied my tray among the wealthy and powerful, greedily stuffing their faces and downing expensive champagne without even glancing at the person who served them, I booked it back to the kitchen and set my tray down to be refilled. The catering service was a well-oiled machine: they bustled and maneuvered around each other without even making eye contact. It was impressive… and helpful. Their complete distraction allowed me to gain entry, rob the place, and saunter out the kitchen door with no one the wiser.
Because I’d traveled back in time to steal the egg from the previous owners of this house, the theft would never be traced back to me, or this party. Certainly, the movers who packed those crazy golden creatures wouldn’t have noticed the switch. The theft probably hadn’t even been discovered yet, several months in the future. As always, my time-traveling execution was perfect.
Around a corner and down the street, I popped into the apartment I’d rented as a secure location, to hide out if I got stuck in the past. After a quick change of my shirt, I threw on my leather jacket, pulled my long hair from the ponytail, and collected my somewhat dusty bug-out bag. I’d placed the bag in the apartment this morning, creating a portal through the bathroom door to leave it in the past in case something went wrong. I could portal back to the day I left it, but what was the point? It was just some clothes, dry goods, and cash.
Sliding the cloth-wrapped Fabergé out of my satchel, I packed it in a concealed pouch of my leather jacket. The position allowed me to grip the item through my pocket, so I could subtly keep it in my hand and avoid the notorious pickpockets in the New York subway system.
A quick check of the apartment confirmed I’d left no trace that I’d ever been here. My lease ended in a week, and no one would remember me. I preferred it that way.
I dropped my key in the landlord’s box and whistled on my way out of the building, down the street to the subway station.
Once back at home, I stowed the egg before I checked on Diego. My apartment was small, but I liked Diego to have his own space. He had to share it with my home gym where I did my training, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Diego?” I called softly, rapping my knuckles lightly on the door. “Mi amor?”
I flicked the switch on the desktop lamp and caught the reflection of a beady eye shining in the darkness.
“Oh good, you’re awake!” I crossed the room and scooped him from the terrarium. “How’s my big boy? Did you miss me?” I ran a finger over the scales on top of his head, and his eyes closed in pleasure. “Yes, you love little head scratches, don’t you mi amor?” After a nice little scratch along his crests and under his chin, I fed Diego a mealworm and placed him on my shoulder. He wasn’t fully grown yet—I read that bearded dragons can get up to 30 centimeters—so he still fit nicely and he hung on well with his little lizard claws.
Most people would think a lizard was a poor pet, but Diego was perfect for me. He adored being held and loved, but he could also go a long time without attention—very im
Returning to my bedroom, I carefully unpacked my weapons. The ornate daggers—the last gift I received from my father—I wrapped lovingly in their sable oilcloth before tucking them into my nightstand. The Glock I unloaded and stowed in the finger-print case under my bed, and the finger-length blade I kept in my boot for emergencies fit back in its foam drawer in my weapons closet.
Satisfied with my unpacking, I retrieved the Fabergé egg. This one was titled ‘Necessaire’ and was considered lost by the world decades ago. The only image provided to me in the file was a grainy black-and-white photograph of the egg in a velvet box. Apparently, 69 eggs were crafted, this particular one in 1889 for Alexander III of Russia to give to his wife on Easter. Some Fabergé eggs had ‘secrets,’ and for many of the missing eggs, their secret is all that remains of the eggs today.
I bet Maria Feodorovna, the recipient of this egg, didn’t know it held the biggest secret of them all.
The beautifully carved flower petal motif on the exterior was stunning, split along the middle with a gold and jewel belt. Squeezing the two emerald chips and the large sapphire simultaneously, I twisted the top and the two pieces came apart.
Inside, a velvet shell held a large star sapphire, easily the size of a bird’s egg. I knew better than to touch it—that stone was cursed with the soul of Ivan the Terrible, according to my brief. I could feel the dark energy pulsing from the stone, now that it wasn’t encapsulated in gold. Well, from the looks of it, the interior of the egg was lined with lead. Clever. It made the egg feel empty, since gold was heavier than lead, and it offset the weight of the sapphire. The lead also blocked the vicious energy that was now assaulting my senses.
I replaced the top of the egg and resealed it, sighing in relief as the waves of evil ceased. Placing it carefully in the velvet box provided by The Guild, I snapped a pic with my cell phone and sent it off to the Guild rep. She wasn’t typically quick to respond—I suspected it had less to do with being unwilling to pay out and more to do with her personal dislike of me in general. But she represented powerful people who got what they wanted because of me. She couldn’t just ignore me... but she could make me wait.
I changed out of my catering attire and padded into the open living space to fix something to eat, with Diego carefully placed on my shoulder. I had a small breakfast table by the window, a kitchen with an island that separated it from the living room, and enough space for a cozy couch and TV stand. It was a nice, modern apartment; if a little bare due to my spartan style. I didn’t have much decoration besides the sixteen black and white photographs of my father and me sprinkled throughout. But it was home.
Most 19-year-olds couldn’t afford this apartment, despite its tiny size. A two-bedroom in Manhattan was well out of the price range for most Americans, but money was never an issue for me. I funded my ‘on the books’ expenses from my inheritance, and there were so many trust fund babies in New York City it never raised an eyebrow.
My other expenses, well… those were strictly off the books. From additional passports to bolt apartments and travel, I couldn’t have those expenses traced back to my actual identity. Papa always insisted on a variety of identities for work, and his guidance hadn’t steered me wrong yet.
After a bland dinner and several hours of Netflix, I was considering hitting the sack when my phone buzzed. The Guild rep wanted me at her location in twenty-five minutes to drop off the item.
Hag. Not only was it the middle of the night, but that left me scarcely enough time to get there. Per my contract I should receive at least an hour notice, because my reward goes down if I’m late. Yeah, it’s a shitty system that unfairly punishes the thief, but that’s The Guild.
Plucking Diego carefully from my lap, I rushed to the office and replaced him in his cage. I didn’t have time to change, so I tucked my finger knife in my high top sneaker and pulled my leather jacket over my hoodie. My phone and keys went into the pocket of my baggy sweatpants, and the egg and daggers slid into the hidden pockets of my jacket before I slipped out the door.
My foot tapped while I waited for the elevator to reach the ground floor. I hated feeling rushed, and Milly knew that. She did this kind of crap to me on purpose. I tried reporting her one time, and it only got worse. I just had to deal with her until I finished the required jobs, or the old bat kicked the bucket. I hoped for the latter.
When the elevator doors opened, I dashed through the lobby and outside, racing down the sidewalk toward the nearest subway entrance. I clutched the egg in my pocket, eyeing the other passengers to assess the threat. But they appeared to be mainly tourists and people on their way home from work, minding their own business. Still, I waited until the last minute to hop off the train at my stop, just in case someone got the stupid idea that I was an easy target. They’d regret it, but I didn’t have time to mess around with some wannabe thugs when I had a paycheck waiting for me.
I turned down the dark alley, checking the time on my watch. I had exactly two minutes, and I was right on time. Halfway to the door with the weak blue light above it, I heard a muffled step behind me. I resisted the urge to turn and look, focusing instead on listening closely for a better idea of my pursuer’s position. They could just be another person here for an appointment at the Blue Light, but they also could be a threat. Maybe both.
No innocent person randomly walked down this alley at two a.m. If they were here, they were up to no good.
This blanket statement, of course, included yours truly. I was definitely up to no good.
Reaching the heavy metal door, I banged hard on it once, paused, then tapped three times. A slim crack appeared, and the gruff voice behind the door said, “Password?”
I checked the text from Milly; Jesus, seriously? I sighed. “Flamingo fairy lights.” This was a giant criminal enterprise, and that’s the password they chose? Sometimes the idiocy astounded me.
The door creaked open, and I slipped through. The Blue Light Club was used by The Guild to schmooze clients, filled with dark red booths lit only by flickering candles. There were a few ambient lights around the walls, but it was pretty much as dark as, if not darker than, the city streets outside. I navigated the murky club to the window in the back ringed in flamingo string lights. Cute. Suddenly, the password made sense.
Milly sat in her little kingdom of a cubicle that resembled a toll booth crossed with a bank teller’s window. She hunched over a tattered paperback with the front cover wrapped under the back in her wrinkled meat hook. I wondered if she did that to conceal that it was a Fabio-covered bodice-ripper, or just because she had no respect for books. She pinned her lank grey hair in the world's tiniest bun on top of her head, and the jeweled chain that held her glasses tucked neatly under her sagging jowls. The cardigan was a real winner tonight, hot pink with a giant, garish pin of a kitten on her saggy boob.
Milly had done this job for a long time. Perhaps she was cute when she started, even nice, and the job slowly sucked the life and color out of her. Now, her flaccid skin was grayish and pale, and the bright crimson she painted on her pencil-thin lips bled into the wrinkles of a telltale smoker. I stood in front of the window, waiting for her royal pain-in-the-ass to acknowledge me. If I made any noise or attempted to get her attention, I’d end up waiting longer. She’d probably report me as late, just out of spite.
