changeling chronicles 03 - faerie realm (16 page)

Vance let Anabel hug him goodbye, one-handedly ruffling her hair. She pulled a face. “I’m not that little anymore.”

“No, you aren’t.” A worried note was audible in his voice. Was he thinking about how she’d be close to shifting age soon? “I’ll see you soon.”

Rita swiftly closed the door on us, leaving Vance and me alone. He frowned at the door, wearing the expression he did when he was thinking.

“Why’d you tell them? I mean, about the faeries?” I asked.

“I had to. Rita will know what to keep an eye out for now. An iron ward covers the entire house and the fields, too.”

“Anabel saw a faerie from the window, though,” I said. “Same story as George. You don’t think…”

Vance strode off. I caught up to him by the wall at the field’s edge.

He held a handful of metallic bands. “These will keep any faeries out. What worries me is that someone’s trying to lure
shifters out of their territory. The murders took place
outside
the boundaries. Nobody can challenge the shifters inside.”

“Good point. But how will doubling up on the wards help, if someone’s getting around them?”

“This one contains soundproofing,” said Vance, snapping one of the bands. It immediately vanished, a rippling current of silvery light bathing the field. “Tell me. What possible ways could faeries lure a human to follow their lead?”

“Aside from speaking to them?” The soundproofing was a good idea. I didn’t think any of the branches of faerie who could charm a person into jumping off a roof by singing at them had escaped into this realm, but you never could be too careful. “Hmm. Persuading someone else to bring them outside? Wait… Henry said Briana got out when someone left the gate unlocked.”

His eyes flashed to a darker grey. “They’re being manipulated. I told you hellhounds’ fear magic doesn’t affect shifters. Neither do similar magics that affect the mind and confuse the senses. The person doing this is using another method.”

“Speaking of which,” I said. “The tomb. This legend… did you know about it?”

“I heard the stories,” said Vance.

“Not a coincidence,” I muttered. “What’s the deal with Uncle Colton, then? He’s not… he doesn’t hurt his wife, does he?”

“Heavens, no,” said Vance. “He’s an obstinate dick, but I’d skewer him if he raised a hand against Anabel or her mother. He just hates everyone else.”

“And apparently wants to dig up a tomb.”

He scowled. “It’s a legend, and not a particularly original one.”

“Sounds more like it belongs to the faeries,” I said. “I don’t get it. Is someone manipulating the shifters? Trying to get
them
to search for this object? But I thought the faeries already had the talisman.” I’d thought the Lady of the Tree had it.

Maybe I was imagining the connections. Unless…

“Perhaps,” said Vance. A long stick-like object appeared in his hands. “This detects enchantments. I’ll be able to tell if anyone’s jinxed Wyatt.”

“Good thinking. But if it’s a faerie…”

“Then they’re mistaken if they think I’ll care a jot if he dies. I’m more concerned for Anabel. There’s a reason they took her last time, and it wasn’t to get at me. Velkas knew I’d follow you anyway. I didn’t need an incentive. He picked her for a reason. Shifters on the verge of the change go through a transformation which uses a great deal of energy. Enough to power…”

“… a magical talisman,” I finished. My heart took up residence somewhere beneath the soil, and even his saying,
Velkas knew I’d follow you anyway
did nothing to stop it. “Crap. So someone’s stirring up all the shifters. Like…”

Fear rose, thick and choking. Who was the last person to amass a huge amount of power in a summoning circle?

Might the culprit be working for Calder, from beyond the grave? Or even Velkas? He was no visionary. A hundred faeries might have had the exact same idea. But if it was true—if the Lady really was the killer—then she was biding her time. Gaining power. That was why she hadn’t killed me. She needed to charge up that talisman like a magical battery.

But where did the shifters’ legends come into it?

Vance’s dangerous expression intensified as he snapped the last protective barrier into place. Greyish light flared up around the field’s edges.

“There won’t be a repeat of what happened with the drug,” he said. “The half-faeries would think twice before accepting an offer of immortality again. Someone’s trying to use the shifters instead.”

“To open the veil?”

“Without a doubt.” He turned around, his polished shoes treading a path through the field. “But this talisman… I’m sure it’s at the centre.”

“The life-drinker,” I murmured. “Are you
sure
the shifters haven’t had any contact with Faerie? Because the life-drinker sounds like the reverse of Summer’s magic. The branch that gets you exiled.”

To the Grey Vale. Velkas’s ability—not one I’d forget in a hurry. He’d sucked all the energy from my body, and drained my magic, too. I hadn’t taken his magic when he’d died, which meant it must still be inside his sword.

If his sword really
was
the talisman… I hadn’t known I’d left the vessel containing his magic behind for someone else to claim.

Like the Lady of the Tree?

I tugged at my hair. This made no sense. Assuming the life-drinker legend referred to the same talisman, why order someone to dig up an old grave supposedly containing something the faeries already had?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Vance put one more protective ward down, then stalked across the field. My feet skidded in the mud as I hurried after him.

“I’m going to find my bloody fool of an uncle. If he’s been tricked into something that’ll put my family in danger, I’ll bury him in the damned grave he’s digging up.”

Breathless, I caught up. “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t like you. Aren’t you his only surviving family? He can’t blame his own brother for dying, surely.”

“It’s complicated. He has no love for the Mage Lords, either. Nor the shifter clans. Our family has rested uneasily between the two ever since my grandfather married a shifter and they left the mages. The other Mage Lords were scandalised, especially his own parents, because he came from a thousand year-old magical bloodline. The mages initially refused to let him back in, and he’s harboured a grudge ever since.”

“But your uncle’s half-shifter, right? Does he have magic?”

“He prefers not to use it,” said Vance. “He backed out of the Mage Guild once he’d been through the basic training stage. They mostly leave him alone. Technically, all mages are supposed to report in, so we can make sure nobody’s abusing their power, but I’m the one responsible for checking on him. Nobody else wants to come near.”

“He’s that much of an asshole, huh.” I checked Irene was ready at my waist. Just in case. “Is he likely to try anything?”

“Usually he yells a lot. He’d be a weather mage if he bothered to practise, so he sometimes blasts intruders with a thunderstorm. My family has a propensity for the dramatic.”

“I know. I’ve met you.”

I expected a smile, but didn’t get one. He continued to walk across the field, his mouth a thin, angry line. Anger at his uncle or at the faeries, I didn’t know.

Vance stopped, and I halted beside him. The field sloped down at this point, where a jagged stone wall bordered with a neighbouring field. In the incline, a huge hole had been dug into the ground.

A man crouched beside the hole, straightening up as he became aware of us behind him. The guy was around fifty or so, his shoulder-length dark hair matted and streaked with grey. He was at least fifteen years older than his wife, and had the kind of muscled build of someone who worked outside a lot. Considering his plain, dirty clothes and slouching stance, there wasn’t the slightest resemblance between him and his nephew until I saw his grey eyes. White flashed through his irises at the sight of Vance.

“You,” he said. “I thought I told you to stay away from my family.”

“You should know better than to expect me to listen,” said Vance with more malice than I’d expected. “Anabel is my family, too. I came to check on her safety, and found out you’re embarking on this foolish endeavour.”

“What I do in my own home is none of your business.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’d be worried if my husband was digging up a creepy old grave right after a bunch of undead got loose in the city.”

Vance shot me a warning look. His own eyes flashed, too. Crap. “Did someone tell you to dig up the ground?” he asked Wyatt.

“It’s nothing to you if they did,” said Wyatt. “Stay away from my family.”

“We are,” I said. “We came here to stop you doing something stupid. Whichever faerie told you to—”

His eyes went wide. “Faeries?”

That reaction, I hadn’t expected. “Huh? You did see a faerie?”

“You’re trying to trick me,” he snarled. A fresh blaze of white ignited in his eyes.

“Stay away from Ivy,” Vance said in a low, dangerous voice. “We have reason to believe you were tricked into digging up that grave by someone who wants to hurt your family.”

“
You’re
the danger to our family,” hissed Wyatt. His head ducked forward, claws sprouting from his hands. Scales folded up his arms, black as pitch, and his eyes flashed as he looked up.

Thunder crackled in the air, which vibrated with tension. Vance stepped forward, moving in front of me.

Wyatt leaped at him, and I yelled a warning that went unheard. The air rippled, but Wyatt dodged the attack and jumped at me, claws ripping at my jacket.

I managed to keep my footing, hitting Wyatt in the head with the hilt of my sword. He jumped to the side, right into Vance.

A second bolt of horror went through me. Scales coated Vance’s hands, too, and the two clashed in a flurry of claws. Alarm zinged through my veins at the sight of blood spattering the ground. If I didn’t intervene, one would rip the other’s throat out. Vance had less shifter blood than his uncle, and he wasn’t using magic. Had his instincts overwhelmed him, or was this some weird mage code thing, fighting as equals? I hadn’t a clue.

“Vance!” I yelled.

He didn’t seem to hear me. The two part-shifters grappled with one another, dealing blows that made me wince. Why wasn’t Vance using his magic? Wyatt had used magic too, before, but it clearly wasn’t his weapon of choice.

I froze as Wyatt pinned Vance down, claws swiping at his neck. Vance broke free, knocked the bigger man onto the ground and reversed their positions. His own claws came down. Blood spurted.

Crap. He was actually going to kill his uncle.

I threw myself at Vance from behind without stopping to think. I’d aimed as he lunged forward, tackling him around the waist. The momentum sent me crashing down on top of him, his claws swiping inches from Wyatt. I threw all my weight on him, sword and all, and pointed the tip of my blade at the back of his neck.

Vance might be stronger than me, but he wasn’t stupid even in shifter form. He tilted his head, eyes narrowed at me.

“This isn’t your fight,” he growled.

“No,” said his uncle. “You’ll take orders from a pathetic hedge witch slut?”

My fists bunched in the back of Vance’s coat as I fought to keep him from throwing himself at Wyatt. Hell,
I
wouldn’t mind throwing myself at him, but that wouldn’t get us answers.

“Will you both calm
down?”

Vance snarled. “Let go of me.”

Wyatt glared at me, then white flashed through his eyes, sharp as lightning. At the same time, Vance lunged forward. I flattened him again, nearly impaling myself on my own sword, and elbowed him in the back of the head.

Way to go, Ivy.
Vance writhed underneath me, and I hung on for dear life, forced to relax my grip on Irene or risk stabbing him for real.

“You’re the freaking Mage Lord!” I yelled in his ear. “Let this dickhead throw a tantrum all by himself.”

The dickhead in question roared, his impossibly bright eyes now fixated on me. Oh, shit.

“What?” I said. “You don’t wanna meet Irene up close, do you?” I thwacked Vance on the back of the head with it. Not too hard, but enough to make him stop moving. I loosened my hold.

“Vance, calm the hell down. You came to stop your uncle, not kill him. You’re both being manipulated—”

Wyatt leaped at us. I cursed, swinging my blade. I didn’t want to kill Vance’s uncle, but he didn’t seem to want to give me a choice in the matter. Damned idiot.

I slashed in a figure-eight motion, moving backwards. We were only metres from the pit. I kept walking, luring Wyatt closer to the hole in the ground with every step. His eyes remained on the sword, not on me.

“You’re stupid, aren’t you?” I goaded him. “I’ll bet your daughter’s ashamed of you.”

The beast roared and leaped. I swung my blade, pretending to miss by accident, and threw myself flat. The ground gave way beneath his claws and he scrabbled, slipping into the grave.
Ha.

The beast’s claws swiped at the earth, bringing a shower of soil down on him.

“I thought that was your plan,” said Vance, appearing behind me. Blood beaded from several cuts on his face.

My heart thumped oddly. I’d seen him get hit before, but it was rare that I saw the Mage Lord bleeding. The sight sent a wave of anger through my body.

“Someone’s overloaded him on some kind of shifter crack,” I said.

“You’re right,” said Vance. “Luckily, I didn’t completely lose my senses.” He pulled a container out of thin air.

“You had time to take a blood sample?”

“He bled all over my coat.”

“Huh. Thought you had a dirt-proof spell on.”

“I do,” said Vance. “It wears off over time.”

So it did. Actually, now I looked closely, I saw his sleeves were torn and his scaled hands bloody.