“Probably that we need a mother,” Potts replied.
Bear plucked a pipe from his jacket pocket and filled it with an herb. Layla crinkled her nose at the scent of mureechi. He handed the pipe to Sprig and said, “I think you need this more than me.”
Sprig held up his fists and playfully tapped Bear on the face. In return, Bear released a bellowing laugh and slapped his friend on the back.
The entry door slammed open with a bang. All chatter in the bar silenced. Even the FGs stopped talking as they turned their full attention to the open door. It hung on one hinge, creaking slightly as it shuddered from another gust of wind. Layla stumbled backwards as it blasted into her.
“What the drak!” she cursed.
A dozen soldiers entered the room. Each bore King Renard’s insignia on the left shoulder of their uniforms: a dragon eating its own tail. They carried riot shields and submachine guns with them. She’d heard of soldiers performing raids on fae establishments but had never experienced one before. She glanced around the bar, assessing how many fae remained. Her heart sank as she realized how many magicals were still in The Wand despite the late hour.
A man wearing a mask with a dragon’s snout printed on it entered the bar. The soldiers stood at attention, clearly waiting for him to give a command.
“Hello. I am here as the personal envoy of King Renard,” he said in a deep baritone voice. His dark eyes searched the room as he spoke. They lingered on Layla as he continued, “By royal decree, all fae and elvish girls between the ages of 17 and 25 must undergo a simple blood test. If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear.”
“Now wait, just one minute here,” Bear said, stepping towards the man. “Who do you think you are, coming in here and—”
The man shoved a sheet of paper into Bear’s face, and said, “This will explain all your questions.”
Bear skimmed the paper, his face turning ashen. “But, you can’t just—” he stammered.
“Oh, you will see that I can. And I will. The king has entrusted me to test the blood of every magical female until we put to rest this ridiculous claim that the princess is still alive.” He pulled a device from his pocket.
It looked like a gun with a long syringe plugging the barrel. Instead of a trigger, it had a button on the side. A small screen displayed charts and graphs. The man pointed the needle at Bear.
“Sit down,” he commanded.
Bear snarled but didn’t say anything as he walked backwards to the tables where the rest of the Fairy Godmothers sat watching.
“So, who wants to be first?” the man asked. A cruel smile curled on his lips as he spoke. He slipped a vial of shimmering green liquid into the device and pointed it at some of the girls at the back of the bar who had been playing pool. They clutched hands and stepped away from him.
“Come on, ladies,” the man continued. “All of you will have to take the test at some point. There’s no reason to make this more difficult than it has to be. If your blood comes back as a match, well,” he shrugged, “I promise I won’t harm you.”
There was something about the way he spoke that sent a shiver down Layla’s spine. He seemed to her like a spider spinning its web until eventually catching a fly.
“What kind of test?” Bear challenged. He snorted as he stepped forward and puffed out his chest.
The man rolled his eyes. “You need to learn your place, fae.”
“If King Renard demands a test of all our fae girls, then I think it’s only fair for us to know what he’s testing them for.”
“As I said before, if you have nothing to hide then you have nothing to fear.” He turned towards Bear, his eyes bright with menace. “Do we have a problem here?”
Bear maintained eye contact as he slowly sank into his chair. “No,” he whispered.
Layla tried to catch his gaze, but Bear stared steadfastly at the door.
“Good, now where were we?” the man asked, rubbing his masked chin. “Ah, yes.” He turned his focus on the girls. “Which of you wants to go first?”
When neither of the women stepped forward, he strode towards them with quick, calculated steps. Without even the slightest hint of hesitation, he jabbed the needle into the one of the girl’s arms. She whimpered as her blood ran down her arm in a silver river. What space remained in the vial filled with her blood. The man yanked the needle from her arm and held the device up to the light. The girl’s friend ripped a length of cloth from her dress and tied it around the wound. Wrapping her arms around the injured girl, she guided her to a nearby chair.
The man watched as the blood and green liquid swirled together. An array of glittering bubbles popped as the two fluids mixed. Layla’s jaw dropped slightly as the vial began to glow a brilliant white. It flashed several times before extinguishing. All that remained was a blackened, empty vial. The man lowered the device, a smug look on his face.
Layla exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “What was that?” she silently murmured to Penny.
“Excellent,” the man said as he slipped his hand into his coat again and pulled out a small, round pad. He knelt in front of the girl he’d just tested and handed it to her. “Press this on the wound and it’ll heal within minutes. I promise.”
The girl didn’t acknowledge him. She stared off in the distance, tears trailing down her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered. With a sigh, her friend accepted the pad and undid the makeshift bandage on her arm. Pressing the pad against the wound, she stared at the man with palatable contempt.
A moment later, she removed the pad. The bleeding had stopped and the skin had begun to knit itself back together. Although Layla knew there were technologies that aided in the healing process, she had never seen anything work as quickly as the pad had. She chewed on her bottom lip, considering what this could mean for the magical world. If King Renard had figured out a way to replicate healing abilities like her own, that would mean one of the few advantages the magicals had of defending themselves had been stolen.
“How in the draking realm did you replicate a healing ability?” Layla whispered beneath her breath. Penny hummed at the back of her mind. She pled with her to slip away while the man was distracted, but Layla knew she couldn’t abandon the bar.
“Did she pass?” the injured girl’s friend asked.
“With flying colors.”
Numbly, Layla watched as the man replaced the vial with a new one, filled with the same green liquid, and plunged the syringe into the other girl’s arm without warning. The girl’s eyes widened and her skin paled, but she didn’t become weak in the knees like her friend had. Even when the man removed the needle, she stared squarely ahead of her.
The girl’s blood and the green liquid vibrated in the glass vial for several seconds before emitting a faint white color.
The man stared at the vials with a smug, satisfied expression. “See ladies, there was no reason to be afraid. You both passed as easily as plucking strawberries on a summer day.”
He turned towards Layla. He held out his hand towards her and waggled his fingers. She hesitated.
“Don’t let him stick you with that thing,” Penny whined. “It’s not safe. Please, Layla. Don’t let him test you.”