Free Magic Edge by Ella Summers Page A

reception desk looked like a log from an ancient tree.
    Three fairies with brilliant smiles and enormous ‘volunteer’ badges sat behind the desk. Another five people—some fairies, some mages—hurried back and forth in the background, fetching manila folders and participant bags. On the wall behind them hung paintings of supernatural scenes that were obviously supposed to be idyllic. Vampire cowboys. Fairy acrobats. Ghost professors. Mage warriors.
    Logan cut to the front of the very long line, eliciting a few angry protests from the waiting supernaturals. Most of them grew quiet as soon as they saw it was Slayer cutting them; the sight of the Black Plague and her big sword silenced the rest. A few of them shuffled to the back of the line. The looks on their faces said they wanted to be as far as supernaturally possible from Alex and Logan.  
    “Well, aren’t we a regular crowd-killing duo,” she whispered to him.
    Logan looked over his shoulder, his green eyes assessing the scene. “It makes things simpler.”
    “Like line cutting?”
    “For instance.” He looked at the purple-pigtailed fairy sitting behind the counter. “We’d like to enter the tournament.”
    The fairy gaped at him for a second before remembering to paste on her dazzling smile. “Of course. Slayer, right? And Black Plague?”
    “That’s Paranormal Vigilante,” Alex muttered.
    The fairy breezed right past the interruption, her glittery nails flicking through the stapled list of participants. “Are you registered?”
    “No, how about you take care of that now,” Logan said.
    She opened her mouth to protest, then must have thought better of it. “Ok.” She pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil with a unicorn eraser on the end. “Which division? We have Fairy, Mage, Vampire, and the Wild Card group for humans.”
    It made sense. For obvious reasons, there was no otherworldly division.
    “Two wild cards,” Logan told her.
    “Slayer.” She began to write on the paper in a long, loopy script. “And Black Plague.”
    “Paranormal Vigilante.”
    The fairy continued to write. “The Wild Card qualifying rounds start in twenty-five minutes. Please go through the double doors and wait in the Ballista Room with the other Wild Card competitors until your names are called.”
    “Where are the vampires waiting? And the fairies?” Logan asked her.
    The fairy volunteer dropped her pencil. “Assassinations are strictly prohibited on the premises.”
    “I’m not going to assassinate anyone,” Logan said.
    No, he’s just going to show the thief his knives , Alex thought.
    “Sorry, I can’t help you.” The fairy handed them their bags, then waved the next person in line up to the counter.
    “I don’t think she believed you,” Alex muttered as they pushed through the double doors that led into the back.
    “So it would appear.”
    He sped up to close the distance to a group of gabbing fairies with rifles and crossbows swung over their shoulders. They’d almost have looked tough—if not for the knee-highs and short schoolgirl skirts. The huge polkadot butterfly bows in their hair weren’t doing their lethal image any favors either.
    “Did you bring your gun?” Logan asked Alex.
    “Gun? What gun? I don’t even own one.”
    “Crossbow?”
    “No.”
    “Do you have any form of long distance weapon?”
    Alex thought about that for a moment. “That depends. Will they let me throw my knives?”
    “No.”
    “My sword?”
    “No.”
    “Then this could prove to be problematic. Just how long are we going to let this little charade play out?”
    “As long as it takes to find Drake and ask him some questions about the Orbs.”
    Logan scanned the room the schoolgirls they’d been following had just entered. There were about two dozen fairies inside of various types, including a few elves—but no vampire elves.
    “That might take awhile,” she said. “We’re not actually going to participate in the tournament, are we?”
    “No.