Cora is a nymph, a barista by day, art thief by night, having inherited her beloved deceased fatherâs appreciation of artifacts. Along with her trusted fence, she moves a special biological item, a kelpie heart, from the witch who removed it from its owner to a doctor seeking to purchase it for research.
When she receives a cryptic message from her ex-best friend Damien to meet, sheâs initially more consumed with their tense past than him needing her experience as a thief to track something.
But his request rocks her to her heâs looking for the very heart she sold away. His heart. The one he needs back before he withers away. In a sudden race against time, the former friends must work together to track down Damienâs heart, unearthing painful memories of Coraâs fatherâs incarceration and eventual death, and the roles that Damien and his own father played in the tragedy, forcing both to come to terms with the circumstances that pulled them apart. To save his life, Cora will have to use all her ingenuity while confronting a past that led her to a life of crimeâand caused her to lose the boy she loved along the way.
Cora is a nymph, a barista by day, art thief by night, having inherited her beloved deceased fatherâs appreciation of artifacts. Along with her trusted fence, she moves a special biological item, a kelpie heart, from the witch who removed it from its owner to a doctor seeking to purchase it for research.
When she receives a cryptic message from her ex-best friend Damien to meet, sheâs initially more consumed with their tense past than him needing her experience as a thief to track something.
But his request rocks her to her heâs looking for the very heart she sold away. His heart. The one he needs back before he withers away. In a sudden race against time, the former friends must work together to track down Damienâs heart, unearthing painful memories of Coraâs fatherâs incarceration and eventual death, and the roles that Damien and his own father played in the tragedy, forcing both to come to terms with the circumstances that pulled them apart. To save his life, Cora will have to use all her ingenuity while confronting a past that led her to a life of crimeâand caused her to lose the boy she loved along the way.
Thereâs a kelpie heart on the market.
Now thereâs a phone message that will get a girl going. It was from Finneas, my fence. I immediately sent a message back, âWho has it?!â
âWell, itâs not exactly on the market yet. Word is that the witch on Briar Street took one out recently.â
I rolled my eyes and sent my fingers flying across the keyboard. âSo, sheâs just holding it? Does she have any idea how valuable that is?â
A minute later, my phone pinged again, âEither she does and sheâs holding it in case the owner wants it back or she doesnât and could be convinced by a certain nymph to circulate it. Either way, thereâs someone who wants it back enough to pay handsomely for it.â
So that was his angle. I was a talker, sure enough, but any witch worth her salt would know that the kelpieâs ability to shapeshift translated to all of their tissues. Combined with some medicines on the market, some of the worst diseases could be eradicated or at least kept at bay.
I pushed back my navy blue hair and chewed my lip, thinking about my response. Finally I sent him back, âMaybe. Iâd need proof this is real. Iâm not going to get fooled by some livestock heart sacrifice, not again. Then Iâll consider it.â
âDone.â I triumphantly clicked my phone off and pushed the covers off. One of the benefits of my day job was being able to sleep in. Serving coffee and pastries wasnât the most glamorous of jobs but it was a living. Besides, Iâd never planned to stay at the coffee shop long term. If this sale was real and it went through, I could afford a house, maybe on an island somewhere. Everything and anything.
I meandered around my small one-bedroom to the kitchen and put the phone on the charger. I hit the on button for my coffee maker and looked outside. It was a cool enough day for September. My neighbors, the Millers, a group of sprites, were hurrying to get their kids in their van for school.
After an admittedly long shower, I looked at the clock and started to panic. Shit, Iâm going to be late. I pulled on the unofficial uniform of The Magical Beans, a black top and jeans (apron to be added later), then pulled on some black boots.
I poured my coffee into a waiting thermos and grabbed my keys, hastening down the stairs into a sprint. On a good day, itâs a fifteen-minute walk; no need for a car, the fresh air will do nicely. On a bad day, itâs an eight-minute mad dash while trying not to burn myself with my own thermos.
There was the customary line. I weaved through to the front and lifted the counter to squeeze in.
âHey Marie,â I said breathlessly. I flung on my apron and tied my long hair into a quick braid.
âCora, oh thank the gods youâre on time.â She was pouring hot coffee for a customer. She took their money, clicking buttons on the register. âSheâs in one of her moods this morning.â
I groaned and sipped my own coffee, clocking in directly at 9am.
âWhatâs she doing now?â I started grabbing bags of beans to be ground, waiting for my elf friend to respond.
âSnipping at the delivery guys, triple checking the inventory that you just did two days ago, cleanliness checksâŚâ
My eyes almost rolled into the back of my head. It was my personal theory that our centaur boss, Amy, was such a perfectionist that she came out of the womb already dry. Her only vice seemed to be her smoking habit, a smell no worker here could tolerate.
With a heavy clip clop, she was suddenly breathing on my neck.
âThose bagels could use restocking, Cora.â
âRight away, Amy.â There was never use in arguing. I finished pouring the beans in and cranked to the right setting. It was the usual morning rush from eight to ten-ish. Tired creatures of all varieties would come to premedicate before their daily grind. As we were the closest shop to the downtown and marine areas, we had a steady trade and usually no shortage of tips, especially when Marie was working. Good natured and sweet, supernaturally gorgeous like all elves, with the characteristic blue eyes and flowing light hair, she certainly broke a lot of hearts. Once she got into medical school, I could see that tip jar getting less full. Itâs not that I didnât like people. Most people just didnât like sarcasm before coffee. It was my native language. The bell on the door signaled another customer.
Marie cleared her throat, a signal to me. My least favorite person in the universe had arrived.
Short wavy light green hair, pale skin characteristic of the kelpies, Magical Forces police uniform, almost black eyes. Check, check and check.
Damien patiently waited his turn as Marie dosed out coffee and Danishes to the next two people in line.
âMorning, Marie, Cora,â he said, reaching for his wallet. Marie smiled. âUsual large iced?â
âYou remembered.â
âYou do come here every day,â she teased. I rolled my eyes and shivered as I got his beverage ready. I had told her ages ago that that one could not be trusted. Securing the lid, I put it on her right, with the straw. He seemed pleasant enough but I had known him since school times.
There was a reason most customers tended to prefer Marie to me. I wore all my emotions on my sleeve and had little way to disguise them. Marie could be pleasant in almost any circumstance. The bell rang and the line was growing.
I started slicing the bagel for our next regular. âMarie, if youâre done flirting, I think Mr Katos would like his cappuccino.â
Her face darkened in a deep blush and Damien stepped out of line, putting his change in the tip jar. It was more than the cost of the drink.
âSee you guys tomorrow.â
After Mr Katos walked away with his food, Marie whirled on me. âNot nice, Cora! He doesnât seem like some evil mastermind, just a sweet and handsome guy.â
âThere are a thousand faerie tales about not being fooled by a nice face.â
She sighed. âAt least donât be rude to him, OK?â
I shot her a withering look. âAlright.â
âOne of these days I might actually get the courage to ask him out.â She turned her attention to the register, suddenly interested in the buttons.
I rubbed my forehead. This headache was coming on fast today.
âYou know I canât stop you either way. Just be careful.â I made my way to refill the ice containers. Marie skipped after me, blonde hair flouncing. âYouâre sure?â
âLook, if I havenât been able to dissuade you by now, Iâll never be able to. I donât even know why he bothers to greet me. Probably âcause we went to school together.â
She beamed and threw her arms around me. âThank you, thank you!â The door pinged again and she ran out to the front with a smile that could stun any living creature. I picked up the ice and felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Putting down the ice, my own face lit up when I saw the message Finneas sent.
âOh, itâs real alright. Be around soon with details and the offer.â
Letting out my own little squeal, I charged back out with the ice, looking forward to when Iâd see my goblin fence. We had a simple arrangement: I smuggle the goods to him, he puts his feelers out for a buyer, we split the profit. So far, I had a nice tidy sum sitting in a bank account for later use. I never touched that account. If I needed more, Iâd pick up more shifts but Iâd never touch it while I could help it.
As much as Dad was a fan of hard work and dedication to craft, I know he wouldnât want his only child to be a smuggler. I just happened to be very good at it. All the time in his shadow, traveling with him dealing art and antiquities, gave me a lust for the hunt. I just happened to find out early on that legal wasnât always the most profitable. It was just a matter of time. A few more scores and I could go somewhere, start over, and be whomever I wanted to be.
I didnât hate this job. Once Amy disappeared home past two, it was a lot easier. Some college kids would come in and study in the booths with frequent refills. The second shifters would come in, the people needing a pick me up after work.
The bell rang and I looked up. Finneasâs grey skin looked extra shiny today and his four-foot stature strolled in, confident and secure. Marie knew that he was a friend of my fatherâs, just not that he was my colleague in less than savory things.
âHey kid.â Marie stood aside and waved. âHi Marie,â he said, more dreamily.
I put down his large hot coffee with a knowing look. âSheâs way too young for you, old man.â
He raised his eyebrow as I took his money. âA guy can dream,â he said with a shrug.
âThatâs something you can keep to yourself.â
He pretended to scroll through his phone but tipped it down so that I could see over the counter. There it was, dark red, the size of both of my small hands combined.
âHow good is your source?â I pretended to be busy with the register, speaking in low tones.
âKnown the witch for years. I trust her.â
âAny idea why?â
âWhy what?â
âWhy a person would yank out their heart like that.â I pushed the register drawer closed.
He threw me a mocking look. âHave we ever cared why? Or just that it happens?â
It was my turn to shrug. âJust curious.â
âKeep those pointy ears open for anything.â I nodded. âI donât think I need to tell you the take on this one.â
âMore than enough, my friend,â I muttered as Marie came closer.
âSee you later, kid. Those vases wonât restore themselves.â
Finneas spent his waking hours as a restoration specialist in the city museum. His access was near unparalleled. He had offered to get me a job there but I had declined. Despite knowing the place inside out, I just couldnât be there without thinking of Dad.
At six when my shift ended, I hung up my apron and punched out.
Stepping into the cold air, shivering, I wished I had brought a jacket. I started the run back to my apartment. As soon as the dash was done and the door shut firmly behind me, I headed to my computer and downloaded all the files Finneas had sent me. I had homework to get to.
Generally, I stayed away from anything health based. It just seemed like too big of a minefield. Illicit potions promising unending luck, youth or vitality could easily blow up on you. Iâd only really heard of a handful of kelpie hearts in history. Probably because the whole process would be insanely intricate. First, find one that was willing to part with it for whatever reason. Then perform the spell to open their chest and remove it. Store the organ in a padded box specifically meant for this twisted purpose, preferably on ice if transfer was imminent. Someone tried to explain it to me that kelpie hearts were metaphorically like the most common blood type; they could go to anyone, no matter the species. I hadnât asked but the gnome kept blathering anyway.
He said that even the most magic-less kelpie had enough magic in them to keep their blood flowing without it. It was only supposed to be a temporary thing. As a species in general, kelpies were amazingly immune to many common diseases because of the regeneration of their cells. They rarely got the sniffles and stomach bugs. That didnât mean, of course, that they were infallible. They could still develop things like heart failure, cancer or certain illnesses of the mind: the bigger stuff. I asked him what the recipient could do with the heart when they got it and he just shrugged awkwardly, hypothesizing that they could eat it like an apple. I remember blinking a few times and walking away from his ramblings. If this was real, it would definitely be interesting. I thought back with a pout to the last time someone had wanted to try to move one. In hindsight, meeting across the street from a slaughterhouse should have been a clue that they would try to scam me but, youth and hubris.
After I quickly pointed out that, while not knowing what a kelpie heart was, the big flopping thing was the size of my head and smelled like my most recent cheeseburger, the elf got a red face and no money was exchanged.
I stared at the glow of the screen, contemplating. I had a witch to visit tomorrow.
But first, a trip to the shadier side of things. I walked my way to the diner, waving at the kitchen staff, and pushed into the area labeled âStaff Only,â finding the âbroken downâ fridge with the caution tape stuck to the sides and opening it, revealing the hidden staircase.
The bouncer saw me and let me by. Anyone who stumbled their way down and wasnât on the official guest list, which was, off the record, anyone with a criminal record and several members of the health department. There were a score of familiar faces in the sprawling area. The small diner enjoyed a healthy amount of steady clientele on its legitimate side. The multiple rooms included darts, a few pool tables, a large bar and several areas for business deals. The detailing was immaculate. Silver appliances on the marble bar, plush carpeting, bookshelves filled with old tomes, immaculate leather couches, clean high tops.
The bartender passed me a beer wordlessly and I collected it, heading over to Finneasâs spot.
We saluted with our bottles and I wedged myself onto the small stool.
âSo, real?â
He nodded. âVery. The witch that took the pictures is a friend of Fillaâs. Thought the information may be tantalizing for the right price.â
I snorted. She clearly didnât know Finneas very well. Prove what you had or get out.
âSo, speaking as someone who has never done one of these before, what do I have to look forward to?â
He squinted at me. âYou gotta convince Filla to get rid of it first. Thatâs priority number one.â
I rubbed a spot on the back of my neck. âDepends on what mood sheâs in. Might be a challenge.â
He raised a thin eyebrow. âWith her itâs always a challenge. Sheâs never not in the mood for a fight.â
I let out a small breath through my nose. âI mean, youâre not wrong. I always feel like Iâm going to get shocked out of my skin near her. She feels feral.â
He drained his drink, placing the bottle on the coaster. âFeralâs a good word for it. Whatâs your angle?â
I thought for a second, placing the bottle down. âProbably a variation on the sunk cost fallacy. You put a lot of time and effort to taking this thing out. Iâll take it off your hands, give you a chunk of change for it, keeping a bit for me, and now I can move this thing to someone who can use it.â
He nodded.
âGotta say, I donât love the body parts thing. Feels too much like trafficking.â
He shrugged. âYou donât need to love it, kid, just move it and split the profit.â
I glared at him.
âWhat do you want me to say, kid?â
âMaybe no more like this after this one.â I drained my beer, willing it to dissolve some of my tension.
âOK, I get it. One and done.â
He passed me a profile in a beige envelope. âIâve seen some unbelievable things in my time. This is the buyer.â
I opened it, eyes jumping over the details.
âThis is our buyer? He looks like a librarian. Thereâs no way heâs not a first timer.â
âYouâre right, heâs new. He reached my web a few weeks ago. I couldnât believe it at first but then I checked out his credentials.â
I let out a low whistle.
âIâm not sure if this makes more sense or less sense.â
âBeats me, kid.â A pixie waitress dropped off another round and he reached for his drink. He let out a little laugh and dropped a bound manuscript onto the table next to me. âFor some light reading.â
I traced the lettering with my fingers and started to flip through. âWhatâs this, his doctoral thesis?â
âFull marks, kid.â
I groaned. The homework was starting to pile up. âNever mind, I quit. Iâm going to go back to the estate auctions and make my way through the Robertsonsâ emeralds again.â
He tapped a gnarled finger on a sticky note in the corner. âThatâs the take.â
I frowned. âWell I guess itâs enough.â More than an ordinary fae might make in a year.
âI know you, kid. Youâre intrigued.â
âI am,â I noted softly as I combed through. âI think I have a few things to piece together first.â
Icy Heart, Empty Chest by Holly Lee is great at world building by creating a modern society of fairies, nymphs, elves, kelpies, and other magical creatures. It has a fascinating albeit gruesome plot and characters with potential. However, it is a slow paced book that gets repetitive very quickly.
In an alternate universe in which magical creatures live their daily modern lives, Cora is a barista, bounty hunter, smuggler, and art thief. Her client Finneas gives her a new assignment to retrieve a kelpieâs heart from the witch who stole it and give it to a potential buyer. While investigating Filla, the witch who took the heart, she learns that the heart belongs to Damien, a kelpie who is also her ex. He is alive but is growing weaker without his heart. Cora must choose between duty of following her assignment and a love that never really ended.
The strongest aspect of this book is the world building. It does not pull the old standard âFairylands are stuck in a pastoral arcane Medieval like society" trope. If human society changes, there is no reason to assume that Fairy Worlds wouldnât. They live in a society where magic and technology combine to create a world that is both fantastic and identifiable.
This is a world where nymphs and sprites live next door to each other in suburban homes. Where an elf runs the local cafe. Where a doctor might treat your illness or injuries or you might get a witch to do it. Lee clearly had a lot of fun with treating magical characters like people that we might see every day. They just happen to have powers to create storms, curse people, heal with their hands, or teleport from one place to another.
Some might have large ears, fur on their whole bodies, wings, sharp fangs, or look more animal than human. But they are just like you and me. They go to work or school, go shopping, run errands, hang out with friends, spend money, relax at home, and live mundane lives while having awesome powers and fascinating physical characteristics.
The book has a promising character and its plot is alright for the most part. Cora isnât a smuggler simply for money. She steals because she loves and appreciates art. Her love of art is inherited from her late father. In a way, her career keeps her memory of him alive even if her pursuits aren't exactly legal.
Coraâs love for her father also is evident in her conflicts with Damien. In fact, their fathers had a violent confrontation. As children who are close to their parents will do, Cora and Damien defended their old men and ended their relationship in a battle of words. While Cora rejects what she lost, she recognizes that Damien doesnât deserve to have his heart taken out and doesnât want his death on her conscience. No matter how their relationship ended, she does not want to be the one to give him a death sentence.
The most serious drawback in the book is its pacing and it drags what would be an interesting plot. The heart assignment is well executed and there is genuine suspense in Coraâs search and retrieval of the heart. It could be a thrilling cat and mouse game that happens to have a living macguffin and lucky for Damien, a patient that is actually alive to take part in the search.
However the slowest moments occur during Cora and Damienâs reunions. There are several chapters devoted to them discussing their conflicts before they are resolved. A few are fine because this is a couple with a lot of serious baggage but those chapters repeat themselves. Cora and Damien spend a lot of talking in circles over the same topics and discussions without coming to any resolution or clarity.
The pacing drags down what could be an interesting book with a fascinating premise and characters and makes it tedious and even boring. Their conversations could have been shorter, or came to the main points quicker. Also instead of talking about their issues and telling each other how they feel, they could show each other. What is overly verbose could have more action showing the two coming closer together emotionally on this heart stopping, pun not intended
adventure.