Disrupted magic shamrock.., p.14
Disrupted Magic (Shamrock Disposal Book 1), page 14
I had to work to keep my expression neutral. Bloom Stones. Right out in the open, marketed as healing crystals. The Seelie Court wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. And that origin story? Not far from the actual truth.
“They’re beautiful,” Alison said, moving closer to the display. “How do they work?”
“They help align your body’s natural energy pathways,” the receptionist explained. “Our lead practitioner, Serena, can explain the science better than I can. Would you like to meet with her for an initial consultation? It’s complementary for first-time visitors.”
“That would be wonderful,” Alison said before I could respond.
The receptionist—whose name tag read Jade—stood. “Follow me. I’ll introduce you to Serena, and then you can meet some of our success stories.”
As we followed her down a hallway lined with framed testimonials, I leaned close to Alison. “Fibromyalgia?” I whispered.
“Difficult to diagnose, symptoms vary widely, perfect cover for someone who might need supernatural healing,” she whispered back. “Plus, I had an aunt with it. I know the details.”
Her thoroughness was impressive, if a bit terrifying.
Jade led us to a sunlit room at the back of the house, where a woman in her fifties sat at a desk reviewing client files. With silver-streaked dark hair and the kind of ageless complexion that came from either excellent genetics or excellent cosmetic procedures, Serena radiated calm authority.
“Serena, these are potential new clients interested in our Bloom Stone therapy. He’s dealing with fibromyalgia.”
Serena looked up with a warm smile that reached her eyes. “Thank you, Jade. I’d be happy to speak with them.”
After Jade departed, Serena invited us to sit in comfortable chairs across from her desk. “So, fibromyalgia. How long have you been diagnosed?”
“About six months,” I said, sticking with Alison’s cover story. “The pain moves around. Sometimes it’s my shoulders; sometimes my back or legs. Some days, I can barely get out of bed.”
Serena nodded sympathetically. “That’s very common with fibromyalgia. The medical establishment often struggles with conditions they can’t see on a scan or measure with a blood test.”
“My doctor says it’s just something I need to learn to live with,” I added, letting frustration seep into my voice. “Apparently suck it up is now legitimate medical advice.”
“That’s what conventional medicine tells us about so many chronic conditions. But at Harmony Haven, we believe true healing comes from within, activated by the right catalysts.” She opened a drawer and removed a small cloth pouch. “May I?”
I nodded, and she placed the pouch on the desk between us, opening it to reveal a Bloom Stone about the size of a golf ball. Up close, I could see the subtle shimmer within the crystal, the faint pulse of Seelie magic that would be invisible to most humans.
“This is one of our Bloom Stones. They’re quite rare, found only in certain remote mountain regions. They contain trace minerals that interact with the body’s electromagnetic field.”
Pure fiction, but delivered with such conviction that I almost believed her. Either she was an excellent liar, or—more likely—she genuinely believed what she was saying. The Seelie Court was masterful at constructing plausible cover stories for their magical tools.
As she turned, I caught a flicker of gold at the edge of her iris—there, then gone. A trick of the light, maybe. Or something more. A hint that Serena wasn’t just an employee, but someone with deeper connections to the Summer Court.
“May I?” Alison asked, reaching for the crystal. Serena nodded and Alison picked it up, turning it over in her hands. “It’s warm,” she said with genuine surprise.
“They maintain a constant temperature slightly above human body heat,” Serena explained. “That’s part of what makes them so effective for pain relief.”
Alison passed the crystal to me, and I braced myself before taking it. The moment my fingers touched the stone, I felt it—a surge of Seelie magic, bright and vibrant, reaching for the power inside me like a plant turning toward sunlight.
My morphing ability responded instinctively, a tendril of awareness extending toward the crystal’s energy. I clamped down hard on the reaction, but not before a small spark of blue light arced between my finger and the stone.
“Oh!” Serena said, leaning forward with interest. “That’s unusual. You have a strong natural affinity.”
I handed the crystal back quickly, fighting to maintain my composure. “Static electricity,” I said with a forced laugh. “I’m always shocking myself on doorknobs too. Once set my socks on fire just walking across carpet.”
“Perhaps,” Serena said, but her eyes had sharpened, her attention more focused. “But in my experience, that kind of reaction often indicates someone particularly receptive to crystal therapy.”
Great. I’d just identified myself as magically sensitive to what was almost certainly a Seelie Court operative, working for their interests, knowingly or not.
“How exactly does the therapy work?” Alison asked, smoothly drawing attention away from my reaction.
“We use a combination of directed energy work and crystal placement,” Serena explained, returning the Bloom Stone to its pouch. “The initial session takes about ninety minutes, during which we map your energy pathways and identify blockages. Subsequent sessions build on that foundation, gradually realigning your natural flow.”
“And you’ve had success with fibromyalgia specifically?” I asked.
“Remarkable success. And not just with fibromyalgia, but even more difficult to treat conditions. In fact, one of our practitioners, Emma, came to us as a client with severe juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. After six weeks of treatment, her symptoms had reduced by over eighty percent. After three months, she was completely pain-free for the first time since childhood.”
“That sounds too good to be true,” I said, maintaining my skeptical persona. “Like those late-night infomercials selling magic copper bracelets.”
“I understand your hesitation. Would you like to meet Emma? She’s working with a client now, but should be finished shortly.”
“We’d love to,” Alison said.
While we waited, Serena gave us a tour of the facility. Each room was dedicated to a different purported healing modality, but all featured Bloom Stones in various configurations—embedded in massage tables, arranged in geometric patterns on the floor, even crushed into fine powder and mixed into herbal teas served in the relaxation lounge.
The entire building was saturated with Seelie magic, but in a way that felt benevolent rather than threatening. Unlike the Winter Court’s sharp, predatory energy, this was nurturing, encouraging—which made it all the more dangerous. It was easy to understand why people would welcome this influence, never questioning the changes happening within them.
For a heartbeat, I wondered what it would be like to let go—to stop hiding, to be helped instead of hunted. The Seelie influence around me pulsed gently, like it knew the shape of the thought. But I wasn’t sure if the help came with strings or shackles. How long until I wasn’t me anymore?
In the main treatment room, we observed a session in progress through a large window. A young woman with copper red hair was placing small Bloom Stones along the spine of an elderly client lying face-down on a massage table. Even from a distance, I could see the faint glow that emanated from her fingertips as she worked—visible manifestation of Seelie enhancement, advanced enough that it had become a permanent part of her.
“That’s Emma,” Serena said proudly. “One of our most gifted practitioners.”
As if sensing our attention, Emma looked up and met my gaze through the window. Something passed between us—a flicker of recognition, not of my face but of something deeper. She could sense what I was, or at least, that I was different.
She finished her session, guiding her elderly client to sit up slowly. After ensuring the woman was steady, Emma stepped out to join us in the hallway.
“Serena, I was just about to find you. Mrs. Dasker is experiencing remarkable progress. Her spinal mobility has increased thirty percent since last week.”
“Excellent,” Serena beamed. “Emma, these are potential new clients. He’s dealing with fibromyalgia.”
Emma turned to us, her green eyes assessing me with uncomfortable precision. “Fibromyalgia can be particularly responsive to our methods. The key is addressing the underlying energy distortions rather than just the physical symptoms.”
She was mid-twenties, with the kind of vibrant health that made her old condition hard to believe. But there was something else about her, a subtle otherness that suggested the Seelie magic had changed more than just her arthritis.
“Emma came to us two years ago barely able to use her hands,” Serena explained. “Now she’s our most sought-after practitioner.”
“It completely transformed my life,” Emma said, and the sincerity in her voice was unmistakable. “I’d been on medication since I was eight. The side effects were almost as bad as the disease. I couldn’t work, couldn’t exercise, could barely dress myself on bad days.”
“And now?” Alison asked.
Emma flexed her hands, which moved with impossible lightness. “Pain-free. No medication. I can do everything I was told would be impossible.” She looked directly at me. “I know it sounds unbelievable. I was skeptical too, at first.”
I could see why the Seelie Court had chosen her as their representative. She was the perfect ambassador—genuinely helped by their magic, transparently grateful, and now dedicated to helping others. How could anyone view that as a threat?
And yet, I could see the changes in her that went beyond physical healing. The faint aura of Seelie magic that surrounded her, the unnatural grace of her movements, the unusual clarity in her green eyes. She was becoming something more than human, step by subtle step, and she probably didn’t even realize it.
“Would you like to schedule an initial session?” Serena asked. “We have an opening tomorrow morning.”
“We’ll need to check our schedules,” Alison said smoothly. “But this has been incredibly informative. Could we take some literature about your services?”
“Of course.” Serena handed us several glossy brochures. “And here’s something special for first-time visitors.” She presented me with a small cloth pouch similar to the one she’d shown us earlier. “A mini Bloom Stone to help you begin your healing journey.”
I hesitated, but couldn’t refuse without seeming suspicious. “Thank you. My chakras are already feeling chakra-y.”
As we said our goodbyes and headed back toward the entrance, Emma fell into step beside me while Alison and Serena walked ahead.
“You’re different,” she said quietly, just for my ears. “I can feel it.”
I kept my expression neutral. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Your energy. It’s not like other people’s.” She studied me intently. “Are you like me? Someone they’ve helped?”
“No,” I said honestly. “Not like you.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “If you do come back for treatment, ask for me. I think I could help you in ways the others couldn’t.”
Before I could respond, we’d reached the reception area where Alison was waiting. Emma gave me one last searching look, then returned to the treatment rooms.
Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns of Westwood Heights. We walked silently to the car, both processing what we’d witnessed.
“Thoughts?” Alison asked once we were inside with the doors closed.
“It’s a sophisticated operation,” I said. “Much more organized than the Winter Court’s approach. They’re building a community, not just setting traps.”
“The practitioners all show signs of enhancement. Especially Emma.”
I nodded. “She’s far along. Probably doesn’t even realize how much she’s changed.”
“Changed how, exactly?”
I hesitated, considering how much to reveal. “Seelie magic enhances natural abilities, but it also reshapes the recipient over time. Makes them more fae-adjacent. More receptive to Summer Court influence.”
“You seem to know a lot about fae magic,” Alison observed, her tone carefully neutral.
“I’ve encountered it before,” I said vaguely. “The Courts have been influencing humans for centuries. It’s just usually more subtle than this.”
Alison started the car but didn’t immediately pull away from the curb. “So we have the Winter Court building a surveillance network to hunt specific magical signatures, and the Summer Court creating enhanced humans through these Bloom Stones.” She looked at me. “Why now? What’s changed?”
It was the same question asked in the briefing, and Mercer had dodged it. I had theories—uncomfortable ones that centered around people like me—but nothing I could share without revealing too much.
“Balance,” I said instead. “The Courts exist in opposition. When one acts, the other responds. They’ve been in stalemate for centuries, but something’s shifted the equilibrium.”
“Mercer mentioned the Seelie became more active first, and the Unseelie are responding.”
“That fits what we’re seeing,” I agreed. “The Summer Court is playing a long game—gradual enhancement, community building, creating willing allies. The Winter Court is more direct—surveillance, elimination, control.”
As we drove away from Harmony Haven, I found myself thinking about Emma—her genuine gratitude, her sincere desire to help others, her complete unawareness that she was being transformed into something not quite human. Was that manipulation, or was it simply a different form of exchange? Health and ability in return for gradual alignment with Seelie interests?
And where did that leave people like me, caught between worlds? The morph hunted by one Court, potentially useful to the other, trusted by neither.
I pulled out the small pouch Serena had given me, opening it to examine the Bloom Stone inside. Even this tiny fragment thrummed with potential—I could feel it reaching for the morph in me, like a key testing a lock.
“You should probably turn that in for analysis,” Alison said, eyeing the crystal warily.
“Probably,” I agreed, but made no move to close the pouch. There was something almost hypnotic about the stone’s inner light, the gentle pulse that matched the rhythm of a heartbeat.
“Cal.” Alison’s voice had an edge of concern. “Are you feeling okay?”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at the crystal for too long. “Fine. Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how we’re in the middle of something much bigger than rogue sumarth boxes or wellness centers with magical crystals.” I carefully closed the pouch and tucked it into my pocket. “Two competing fae courts pulling us in opposite directions, both trying to reshape our world to their advantage.”
“And we’re what? The battlefield?” There was a touch of bitterness in her voice.
“Maybe. Or maybe we’re the prize.” I looked out the window at the passing neighborhoods—the ordinary people going about their lives, unaware of the supernatural forces quietly influencing their reality. “Either way, I think we’re running out of time to figure out which.”
As if to punctuate my words, the Bloom Stone in my pocket pulsed once, warm and inviting, while somewhere deeper inside me, the fragment of Unseelie magic from the shadow hunter twisted cold in response.
Caught between. Always between.
CHAPTER 14
“When a morph takes power, they take more than energy. They take purpose, intent, history. It leaves a place that fills with whispers.”—The Morph’s Burden (Elizabeth Drexler)
The Bloom Stone pulsed in my pocket like a guilty secret as we rushed back to Agency headquarters. I’d considered accidentally dropping it out the car window, but that would just delay the inevitable. The Seelie Court was distributing these things all over the city, and sooner or later, the Agency would want to know why.
So did I. But for different reasons than just professional curiosity.
Mercer’s text had been brief but urgent: Full briefing. 20 minutes. Priority Alpha. In Agency-speak, that meant “drop everything and run,” which we were now doing—weaving through traffic with Alison taking corners that would make a stunt driver nervous.
“You know, we could just use the siren,” I suggested, gripping the door handle as she cut off a delivery truck.
“No siren. Lower profile.”
“Right. Because your driving is so inconspicuous.” I braced myself as she swerved around a taxi. “If we die in a fiery crash, can I haunt you exclusively? I promise to be super annoying.”
She almost smiled. Progress.
We made it to headquarters with two minutes to spare, taking the elevator down to the underground levels where all the interesting—and terrifying—Agency business happened. The main briefing room was already packed when we arrived, agents and analysts murmuring tensely to each other, screens displaying data feeds from around the city.
Marcus sat near the front, looking remarkably at ease for a civilian surrounded by government supernatural specialists. He gave me a small wave, then pointed to the empty seats he’d saved beside him.
“Found something interesting,” he whispered as we sat down. “Those surveillance points we mapped? There’s a pattern I didn’t see before.”
Before he could elaborate, Mercer entered and the room fell silent. She moved to the front with that efficient stride that somehow communicated urgency without haste. Smith flanked her, along with a woman I didn’t recognize—tall, austere, with short silver hair and the bearing of someone used to giving orders.
“For those who don’t know her, this is Deputy Director Yakin,” Mercer announced. “She’s here from Washington to assess our current situation.”
