Changeling on the Job: A Changeling Wars Novella by A.G. Stewart Page B

shroud themselves from mortals, so he probably just saw a woman, her sword, and her giant dog. At least I lived in Portland and not Indianapolis or something.
    Another blade scraped against my collarbone. “Fuckity fuck!” I yelped, and swiped for the sprite. It darted away from my grasp easily. I’d have better luck catching a dragonfly between two chopsticks. And I didn’t know how to use chopsticks.
    Just as I swatted one sprite away with my sword, another one had the temerity to pull out a handful of my hair. It held up the long, black strands like a trophy as I grabbed at the back of my head, my scalp burning.
    I was beginning to agree with Anwynn’s assessment of sprites.
    “Take the left,” I said to Anwynn. “I’ll take the right.”
    Anwynn wasn’t the most agreeable of minions, but I had to hand it to her: in a fight, she picked up on what I wanted quickly. Her posture changed; she sank a bit lower, her body going rigid.
    I waved my sword about, not hitting the sprites, but cutting them off, guiding them. Herding them. The sprites caught on as soon as the first one disappeared through the doorway. The remaining five redoubled their attacks. I swept my sword over them, trying to keep them from flying off. One shot upward, and another went for my face.
    Instinctively, I lifted my hands over my eyes. The sprite slashed at my wrists. Behind the flurry of the blade, I just barely saw Anwynn launch into the air, catching the escaping sprite with her teeth. She gulped the little Fae down, as though he were a steak she was afraid someone would take away.
    “Dammit, Anwynn!” I yelled at her. I would have said more, but three of the four remaining sprites launched a coordinated attack on my torso, wings buzzing as they flitted through the air—little darting whirlwinds of steel.
    They shredded my shirt into something that might have fit in an eighties music video. Except for the blood. Each tiny sword cut through skin, too, and they weren’t just paper cuts.
    I focused on the pain, using it to block out all other distractions. Swordplay was one of my Talents, along with transformation. I was letting myself get beaten by a bunch of fairies who were a lot smaller than I was.
    As the next one darted toward my face, I lifted my sword, turned it so the flat end faced the sprite, and took a swing. A satisfying smack sounded as the broad side of my blade hit the lesser Fae, and it soared through the air like a misshapen baseball. It hit the doorway I’d created and disappeared.
    I’d never been into sports in school, but they say it’s always good to try new things.  I rolled onto the balls of my feet and held my sword at the ready. The next sprite to attack got thwacked in the bottom, sailing through the doorway with all the speed of a home run. The last one barely gave me time to get my blade up again, so she got a little punt. Still, she made it through the doorway, and that was what mattered.
    Four sprites through and away, one deceased. But there had been six…
    I turned to find Anwynn with the last sprite in her mouth. She lifted her head, ready to toss the creature down her throat.
    “No!” I said. “Bad! Drop it.”
    Anwynn’s eyes narrowed.
    “That’s an order.”
    She opened her mouth and dropped the sodden beast onto the asphalt. “It’s past time for my dinner,” she said.
    “And I don’t know enough about Fae politics to go around killing a bunch of them, left and right. What if they’re just doing this all at the bidding of one of the Sidhe families? I pissed off one Queen and I ended up having to fight her army. I don’t plan on doing that again anytime soon.” I leaned down and picked up the unconscious sprite. His quilted armor was torn and he would probably be bruised, but he would live. His wispy hair hung limp, no longer floating.
    I lobbed him back through the doorway. And then, before any more mischief could come through, I closed my eyes, found the black, empty space where the