The Morrigan's Curse (20 page)

GRIFFYN REMOVED THE LEATHER
laces from his vest, and Ysabel used them to tie Jax's hands behind his back. They left him lying in the water-filled street while they argued about what to do with him.

“Leave him here,” said Madoc. “He's been a threat to us all along. I told you he was.”

“No,” Griffyn argued. “You heard what Ysabel got from the dead man. People are looking for him. If we leave him, the Transitioners will find him. They'll take the Sword back.”

Jax wriggled forward on his belly, trying to reach the Sword even with his hands tied behind his back. The compulsion was irresistible; he couldn't help himself.

Ysabel planted a foot on his back, pinning him down. “He tried to kill you!”

“No child is going to defeat me with a sword,” Griffyn growled. “Magic or not.”

That was the problem. Jax didn't know how to use a sword. Even if he was magically compelled to
try
, he had no skill at fighting. Ysabel had jumped him from behind and disarmed him in half a second.

What would Riley do in this situation?
Riley wouldn't have drawn the Sword. He would have resisted.
Jax hung his head. Giving in to the Sword's desire left him and his liege in a worse position than before. He'd just blown a big part of his mission here.

Stink ran around frantically, up to his belly in water and squeaking. Griffyn kicked at him, but Stink dodged out of the way. Meanwhile, Evangeline tugged on Griffyn's arm. “What?” he said, just as annoyed by her as by the brownie. “Speak.”

“Let him up,” Evangeline said. “He won't use the Sword if I order him not to.”

“Don't trust her,” Ysabel snapped. “She may be bound to you, Griffyn, but she's fighting you every way she can. Maybe we should . . .” She pushed Jax with her foot. “Roll him downhill toward the river and—” Her voice petered out as if she'd forgotten what she wanted to say.

“The Sword isn't going to let him drown,” Madoc said. “Even if you did give him a push, which I'm betting you can't.”

“I made him drop the Sword,” Ysabel boasted.

“But you can't kill him. His life is protected by something stronger than you.”

“Father wanted the Sword drawn,” Griffyn said. “This had to happen.”

That piece of information broke through the red haze of the Sword's compulsion. “Why?” Jax asked, lifting his head and calling on the inquisition part of his talent.

“The magic of all three relics must be active for his plan to work,” Griffyn said, not seeming to realize he was answering Jax. Nobody did. They kept arguing until Griffyn shouted over all of them, “We will make our stand
here
. Let Transitioners come for the boy if they will. Father wanted the Sword drawn, and now it is. We stay near it, defend it, keep the boy from sheathing it. It'll give Father the time he needs.”

Facts clicked through Jax's mind like numbers punched into a calculator.
Bran has the Spear. I drew the Sword. The Stone is protecting the Bedivere house. And Bran took Addie away.

Add those things together and what did he get?

Bran and Addie were attempting to break the Eighth Day Spell.
Right now.

Crap! Trying to break the spell had killed Elliot Emrys.

The Sword of Nuadu's hold on Jax faded in the face of danger to one of his liege ladies. Jax turned his head, seeking Stink. “Addie's in trouble,” he whispered.

Stink stood up on his hind legs and cocked his head with an expression that clearly said:
You're the one in trouble!

“Help Addie!” Jax commanded.

Instead, Stink yanked the rubber band off his front
limb with his teeth. “No!” Jax hissed. “Don't!” But it was too late. Stink popped out of sight. Riley had ordered the brownie to pull off all rubber bands and return if Jax needed immediate help. Now Riley was going to send a rescue party for Jax instead of getting help to Addie. Worse, Griffyn and company were going to be waiting for them.

Jax was hauled to his feet and away from the Sword, which still lay abandoned in the street. Griffyn kept him close as the Kin arranged themselves in defensive positions. He and Condor and Ysabel stood with their backs to one another. Gawan chose a spot near them, his eyes darting everywhere apprehensively. Evangeline took a defensive position beside Griffyn, even though her eyes burned with hatred for him. Kel and his father hung back and looked nervous. Jax bet their talent for prosperity would be of little use in a fight.

Proximity to Griffyn made Jax grit his teeth in frustration. He worked his hands against his bindings, trying to focus his attention on loosening his bonds rather than running this Llyr idiot through with a sharp blade. His hands were wet, and the leather was slippery. While he struggled, he kept his eyes peeled in all directions. Rescue would come for him via brownie tunnels, he was sure, which meant Dulac vassals—odd as that seemed after being their enemy not that long ago. They would be guided by Riley's special-ops troops, and they might
show up anywhere, without warning.

In fact, when the attack began, it came from several angles simultaneously. Gawan Ratis was the first to sense danger. “They're here!” the boy yelled, holding up his hands.

Tranquilizer darts fired from the rooftops of buildings on both sides of the street hit Gawan's shields and fell to the ground. Sloane had vassals with a talent for perfect aim, but Jax was happy to see they weren't taking unnecessary chances with Jax and Evangeline and innocents like Brigit present. That meant darts instead of bullets, but Jax suspected nothing would get past Gawan's magic barricades.

Griffyn shoved Jax toward Ysabel and threw out both his arms. Wind whipped along the buildings, breaking glass, ripping off rain gutters and shingles. Anyone perched on those roofs would've had to flatten themselves and hang on or be blown off. At street level, the water in the street surged upward, rising from a few inches to a foot.

Condor Aeron pointed at the buildings, one after the other, calling out in Welsh. An explosion shattered the windows in one; flames ignited in two of the others. Jax didn't know if he was rupturing propane tanks or gas appliances or what, but the destruction seemed effortless.

Once again, Jax understood why Transitioners had been forced to imprison the Kin in an alternate timeline,
with some of them suppressed even further in a magic-proof fortress. He'd thought Transitioners were a force to be reckoned with, but how could anyone fight this kind of formidable power? Even denied the use of lightning, Griffyn wielded air and water for both attack and defense. Condor detonated anything combustible. Little Gawan blocked shots from Sloane's vassals even after they apparently jumped to new locations. Ysabel, while holding on to Jax, used her free hand and her throwing knives to take out two Transitioners who didn't duck out of sight quickly enough.

Only Madoc and Kel had nothing to contribute. “Defend the Mathonwys!” Griffyn ordered Evangeline. Obediently, Evangeline trudged through the water to stand in front of Madoc and Kel, who still held Brigit.

That was when Jax noticed Brigit watching him expectantly. The toddler pointed up. Griffyn's winds had dispersed the fog, and when Jax followed Brigit's finger, he saw dark wings gliding overhead.

The crows landed half a block away on a lamppost. On the street beneath the streetlight, their mistress stood. She still wore only that long T-shirt and running shorts, her legs bare in the cold floodwater. Her loose dark hair whipped around so wildly, it was impossible to see her face.

Jax and Brigit were not the only ones who witnessed her arrival. Seconds later, a figure stepped out of an invisible hole in the middle of the street—a man with a brownie
riding on his shoulder. “Lesley!” yelled Uncle Finn.

Jax didn't know if Tegan had seen the Girl of Crows when the fog thinned and sent him here, or if Uncle Finn had been waiting in the brownie tunnels for this moment all along. The Morrigan, unlike regular humans, could be seen from inside the tunnels. Jax had shared that information when he, Riley, Bedivere, and the Ambroses had planned the steps of this confrontation:

Lure the Kin to battle.

Wait for the Morrigan to appear.

Send Finn Ambrose to rescue his daughter.

Jax had begun to worry that the Girl of Crows wouldn't show up, that the Washer Woman was the only aspect of the Morrigan they'd see today. But here she was, and Uncle Finn slogged toward her through shin-high water despite the wind flinging broken glass and other debris at him. Jax's eyes dropped to his uncle's wrist and spotted what he hoped to see there: a metal ring.

Uncle Finn was wearing one half of a pair of handcuffs, with the other ring open and ready to snap closed around his daughter's wrist. If everything had gone as planned, they wouldn't be ordinary handcuffs. Oliver Bors had a talent for magic suppression. Arnold Crandall had a talent for working magic into metal. And Roger Sagramore had the ability to bind the talents of other people together. When Jax left them a week ago, the three Transitioner
men had been cooperating to create handcuffs that might prevent the Morrigan from working her magic and force her to vacate Lesley's body.

“Lesley!” Uncle Finn shouted. “Lesley Evelyn Ambrose, do you hear me?”

Ysabel noticed Uncle Finn and reached for one of her knives. Immediately, Jax flung himself sideways and jammed his elbow into her gut. To his surprise, he caught her off guard, and they fell into the street together with a splash.

The Girl of Crows surveyed the battle through tangled dark locks. The wind buffeted her, and water swelled around her legs. She didn't seem to notice the elements, nor did she acknowledge her father's approach. “Lesley, sweetheart. Look at me!” Finn called again.

“Lesley!” That was a new voice, chiming in.

“Dorian!” Uncle Finn roared at his son, who'd just appeared. “What are you doing?”

Dorian was supposed to stay safely in the Bedivere house. His arrival was definitely not part of the plan, and he didn't have a brownie guide with him. Before Jax could see if Lesley would react to her brother, Ysabel got to her knees. With a wrench that probably took off a layer of skin, Jax slipped his hands free of the wet leather thongs and grabbed Ysabel's arm to prevent her from throwing knives at his relatives.

At that moment, Uncle Finn lunged at his daughter with the open handcuff.

Instantly, the girl switched from a statuelike immobility to fluid motion. She turned and caught Finn by the front of his shirt, lifted him off the ground, and flung him aside as if he were a life-sized rag doll. The brownie with him leaped off and disappeared a second before he struck a lamppost and slid down.

“Dad!” screamed Dorian, running toward him.

Keeping one hand locked around Ysabel's wrist, Jax reached desperately for the Sword of Nuadu, still lying abandoned in the street. He was hauled back by Ysabel, who had given up trying to throw her knife and instead wrapped one of her brawny arms around Jax's neck. “Griffyn, get that other boy!” she yelled.

Dorian dragged his father out of the water and propped him against the lamppost. “Dad, wake up!” He looked over his shoulder. “Lesley, don't you know us?”

The Girl of Crows showed no sign of hearing Dorian's plea. But Griffyn did. He waded over and grabbed Dorian. “I know you can see me!” he shouted to the enemies watching with guns from the rooftops. “Deliver the Stone of Fal to us!” Then Griffyn pushed Dorian to his knees and plunged his head into the water.

“Stop!” Evangeline screamed. Jax thrashed, trying to pull himself free from Ysabel.

Griffyn yanked Dorian's head up. The boy choked and
coughed and gasped. Griffyn looked at Ysabel and muttered, “I don't think they'll do it. Not for a single boy.”

“No,” Ysabel agreed. “Just drown him and be done with it.”

Griffyn grinned, shoved Dorian back into the water, and held him there.

THE CRIMSON LIGHT OF
the Sword was wicked and spiteful and strangely compelling. Filled with the power of the other two relics, Addie resisted the allure of this third one. It was hard to hold all that magic and also concentrate on rational thought. The Kin Treasures were wild and ancient; they encouraged reaction, not reason. And Addie needed to think very carefully now.

She stepped sideways and put a little distance between herself and Bran.

He didn't seem to notice. His eyes were alight with ambition. “This is a momentous occasion. I'm not aware of any other time these Treasures were employed all at once.”

It sounded like he was claiming credit, but Addie suspected the Morrigan had more of a hand in it than he did.

Bran turned to Addie. “Merlin Emrys needed the assistance of dozens of Transitioners to create the Eighth Day Spell,” he said. “But you and I alone will shatter it.”

“Or maybe just me.” Addie backed up and called on the Aeron talent for mayhem to rip away the bolts attaching Bran's section of the walkway to the structure encircling the tank.

Metal screeched; wood splintered. The walkway tipped but, still attached to the neighboring sections, did not fall. Bran leaped off the collapsed area with more speed than Addie had counted on. Realizing she'd made a grievous error, Addie scrambled around the side of the water tank away from him. With the power of the Treasures at her disposal, she could have torn the entire platform off the tower, but she'd tried to be delicate, seeing how she was standing on it herself.
A mistake.

Addie pressed herself against the tank, trying to sense the location of the Spear and Bran. He was, at most, twenty feet away from her around the circumference of the tank. She hadn't planned on confronting him in a place like this! She'd thought he was bringing her up the tower to get a view of the battlefield—maybe share his strategy for capturing the Stone. She hadn't realized he wanted to make his assault on the Eighth Day Spell from here.

“You turn against me
now
, girl?” Bran roared. “When I've brought you this far? Given you access to this kind of power?”

“Well,
after
I broke the Spell would be too late, wouldn't it?” she called back. “Since you were planning to kill me.” Addie had figured out days ago that her value as an Emrys would disappear the instant the Eighth Day Spell was vanquished.
The existence of the Kin would no longer depend on her life. She'd simply be a spell caster with a unique access to powerful magic—and a threat to Bran.
He probably picked the tower so he could toss me off afterward.

She sensed the Spear moving toward her around the tank. The ladder was on his side. Another mistake! If she kept circling away from him, she'd run into the broken section of the walkway.
Think, Addie!
she chastised herself. No lightning. The tank was made of metal. No more attacking the walkway. What if the whole thing collapsed?

Addie's hold on the magic of the Spear and the Stone wavered under her panic. This was the part she'd never been good at. Picking the right tactic at the right moment. Thinking quickly under attack. In all their practices, Addie always ended up on the floor at Bran's mercy. She looked at the ground—far below and invisible under the fog. There would be no mercy this time, and
flying
was not one of her many stolen talents.

Wind.

She grasped at the idea and called it up desperately, summoning gusts of wind to assail the man approaching her along the circumference of the tank.
Stop him coming closer. Knock him off.
The blast of air caught her, too. She gasped, struggling to hold on.

As suddenly as it started, the gale cut off. “You can't use my own talent against me, Adelina!” Bran called. “And you cannot defeat me while I hold the Spear.”

“You can't break the Eighth Day Spell without me,” Addie shouted. “And if you knock me off this tower, there's only Evangeline left. Maybe you shouldn't have sent her into battle with your stupid son. What if she gets killed down there? If we both die—you go poof!”

“I admit, I considered eliminating you after you'd served your purpose,” Bran said. “But you're too clever a girl to waste. If you'd been a little older, I would have pledged you to Griffyn instead of your traitorous sister. You'd make a better daughter to me than she ever will.”

“That's not winning me over!” Addie felt disgusted on both counts, and she didn't believe him anyway.
Whatever he tells you, it's a lie,
Evangeline had said. But that was too simple. What Bran did was combine truth and lies to manipulate the listener. Addie remembered his twisted tales about Merlin and his speech about the future of their race—right after he left Aine's baby to die in a fire. Probably Bran
did
see value in Addie—but he would kill her anyway, just to eliminate any challenge to his power.

He was seeking her location now. She felt the prickling sensation that usually meant someone was scrying for her. But in this case, it was more likely Bran using her connection to the Spear to pinpoint her exact spot.

“You don't trust me,” Bran acknowledged. “And now I can't trust you. There's only one solution. Swear your allegiance to me, Adelina. Become my vassal, and we will proceed as planned.”

Oh, sure. Because being his vassal meant he'd protect her. She could ask the Aerons he'd sent into a pointless battle about that. Addie shuddered, partly at the thought of swearing to Bran and partly because of that creepy, crawly sensation of being sought after through magic. Her link to the Spear was going to get her killed.

Or . . . maybe not.
You cannot defeat me while I hold the Spear,
Bran said. And no one could take it from him, according to legend. Of course, the legends had never included anyone like Addie.

Now she had a plan. It was risky, and she'd better do it before she chickened out. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to charge around the tank straight toward Bran.

Thump.

That was the sound of the Spear striking the wooden planks of the platform. She had only a second to remember the time Bran had rocked the warehouse floor. Then the walkway dropped beneath her. Addie's chest hit the slick boards, and she slid backward on her stomach. She scrabbled frantically with her hands, her fingers catching the gap between two wooden planks just as her legs went over the edge.

The walkway dangled brokenly from the framework, with only a few bolts still supporting it. Her body had slid underneath the railing, and her arms were stretched to their full length to hold on. Addie dug her fingers between the boards. Every shred of stolen magic fled her.

Bran stared down at her from an intact section of the platform. “Swear to me, Adelina,” he said. “And I will pull you up.”

All Addie's bravery and defiance vanished with a hundred-and-twenty-foot drop beneath her feet and her fingers slipping. Even knowing that she couldn't trust Bran didn't matter. “I'll swear!” she sobbed. “Please!” Another bolt popped. The walkway jerked down a bit farther, and although Bran reached for her, Addie's precarious hold was jarred loose.

She fell, screaming.

Clouds caught her.

That was what it felt like. Squishy, bouncy clouds.

Addie jerked, like she did when she had a dream of falling and woke up in her bed. She was
not
in bed waking up from a dream, however, but suspended in the sky a few yards beneath the water tower. Shrieking, she flailed her arms, desperately seeking something to hold on to and finding nothing but squishiness.

And dark, furry bodies that squeaked and scurried around and over her.

She wasn't falling. It took a few seconds for Addie's brain to accept that, and when she did, she grew very still, afraid to break the spell. She was nestled in a pocket of opalescent magic, sharing the space with half a dozen brownies. Now that she'd quit thrashing around, they'd stopped squealing and were all staring at her.

This was a brownie hole. The brownies had opened
a hole beneath her in midair, and she'd fallen into it. “You caught me,” she said.

Some of the brownies cocked their heads. Others rotated their ears.

“Did Jax send you?” Addie looked for the one with the goofy white tuft of hair—Stink—but he didn't seem to be here. “Can you—” She felt stupid, asking questions of brownies, but Jax talked to his like he expected the creature to understand. “Can you get me out of here? Without letting me fall?”

One of the brownies leaped excitedly around in a circle. Addie took that for a
yes
.

She looked up at the water tower and inhaled a couple times, screwing up her courage.

“Can you get me back on that platform?”