Betrayal

by Jennifer Blackstream

  No answer.

  “I don’t have time for this.” I stepped inside, listening for some sign of my hostess.

  Scath made a huffing sound beside me, a sound that would have been a derisive snort if she weren’t so tired. I scratched the top of her head, then immediately felt silly for doing it. Scath ignored me.

  I found Alicia in the sitting room. She rose from her seat on the couch, a strained smile on her pink-painted lips. “Mother Renard, thank goodness you’re here.” She gestured to the chair closest to the long coffee table, and I noticed a tea tray was laid out for me. “Please, sit.”

  I sat down, returning Alicia’s smile even as I flexed my magic, sending a wave of silver over the tea set. This time, I wasn’t looking for magic. The spell found something, and I felt a weight against my stomach, a queasy feeling I had to swallow to shake off.

  The tea had been drugged.

  “Sugar?” Alicia asked.

  “Do you have cane sugar?” I asked.

  Alicia frowned. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  I waved a hand and unzipped my pouch. “That’s all right, I have some here. Bizbee? Could you get me my powdered sugar? The one in the blue box?”

  Shadows shifted inside the pouch, then a little face peered up at me, beady black eyes narrowed. “Sugar in a blue box? You mean the—”

  “Yes, that’s the one,” I interrupted.

  The grig glared at me. He huffed out a breath, but a second later, hefted the requested box.

  “I was surprised to get your call,” I said, prompting Alicia to go on with whatever charade she’d planned. I scooped out a small teaspoon of powder into the tea, stirring it until the concoction dissolved, neutralizing whatever drug Alicia had put in it. I flexed my magic again, making sure it was safe to drink. After a brief hesitation, I scanned it again, looking for magic just in case.

  “I was rude before,” Alicia admitted. “I’m sorry. But you must understand, Devanos has not made my life easy. Or Catherine’s.”

  She paused. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. She was obviously waiting for me to drink the tea. I obliged, taking a nice, big gulp. Peasblossom kicked me in the back of the neck, and I hid my scowl behind my tea cup.

  “It’s partially my fault, you know,” she said slowly, her eyes locked on my tea cup. “I’m afraid I ran out of excuses for her father. You see, Catherine has been desperate to go to court with him since she was a child, even before her mother’s tragic death. But both he and my niece were so stubborn.”

  She sighed. “They were always paranoid court life would ruin their precious daughter. It was bad enough when her mother was alive, but after she died… Well, Catherine was more determined than ever to be with her father.”

  “But he still felt it was too dangerous?” I wasn’t sure exactly what the drug in the tea was supposed to do, so I just swayed a bit in my seat, frowned as if I felt strange. I pasted on a strained smile.

  Alicia relaxed, smiling easier as she settled back with her own cup of tea. “He does. I’ve done everything I can to convince him to take Catherine to court. I’ve tried to explain how desperate she is. But he refuses.”

  I blinked, shook my head a bit. I didn’t want to overact my part, but Alicia seemed all too willing to believe her plan was working. “You said it was your fault. What’s your fault?”

  “Catherine’s fascination with these artifacts. Her knife, and the accompanying pieces. When I first mentioned having a ball, displaying the set, it was partially to distract Catherine. To give her something to think about besides her father’s rejection. But I’m afraid it backfired.”

  “You think Catherine is the thief?” I asked.

  “I would never accuse her,” Alicia insisted. Her tone made it clear that’s exactly what she was doing.

  I put a hand to my head. “I’m sorry, could you direct me to the powder room?”

  Alicia tried to dim her expression of triumph into one of concern. She failed. “Of course. Up the stairs, to your right.”

  Up the stairs. Either this house was one of the few buildings I’d ever been in without a bathroom on the first floor, or Alicia was encouraging me to climb stairs in the hope I’d have a nasty fall.

  I obliged her expectations by wobbling a little when I stood up. Scath eyed me from her position on the floor, but I held out a hand when she moved to sit up. “Stay here,” I told her. “I’ll just be a moment.”

  I glanced at Alicia, then back to Scath. She took it for the hint it was and settled back to keep an eye on our grinning hostess.

  Getting a chance to snoop around upstairs was too good a chance to pass up. I walked by the bathroom, glancing into the various rooms I passed. I stopped when I found Catherine’s room.

  It was easy to tell who the room belonged to. Pictures of Devanos were everywhere. Some with him alone, some with him and a woman I assumed was Catherine’s mother, and some with him and Catherine. There were more pictures of Devanos than Alicia, but I noticed the pictures of Alicia had more ornate frames, were larger, and seemed to be placed in more prominent positions.

  Catherine’s room smelled faintly of expensive perfume, but underneath that, there was another scent. Something that reminded me of a forge. It had been a long time since I’d been to a real blacksmith, but there was something about the comforting smell of warm metal that you couldn’t forget. I remembered what Devanos had said about his daughter’s talents. Catherine could manipulate metal by heating it with her hands, turning it to the consistency of modeling clay. And Andy had said Alicia had Catherine working as a forger. Did she practice her art here in her bedroom?

  I knelt on the floor and felt under the bed. A cliché spot to search, but since Catherine didn’t need to hide her illegal activities from her aunt, I guessed she wasn’t too concerned about being sneaky. She had one of those plastic storage bins on wheels, so I slid it out and lifted the lid. There was a blanket inside, and I pulled it aside.

  The missing bowl and chalice gleamed back at me.

  Catherine had obviously felt the glamour on the bowl the same as Morgan had sensed it on the chalice. It wouldn’t have been hard for her to remove, even easier if her father had helped. And the chalice looked as perfect as the fake that I’d seen in the museum.

  “Catherine,” I breathed. “I underestimated you.”

  “I didn’t,” Peasblossom announced, still sounding sulky.

  I jumped. The pixie had a gift for going unnoticed, and I had been so absorbed in my search I had forgotten she was even there.

  “I get that she found the bowl,” Peasblossom continued. “But how did she get the chalice? She doesn’t strike me as a master thief, and Marilyn’s security isn’t exactly amateurish.”

  “Marilyn lets Simon work with display pieces in the interest of furthering his artistic endeavors,” I murmured. “Maybe Alicia convinced Marilyn to do the same for Catherine. Or Devanos could have asked her.”

  “Marilyn is a sucker for a young artist,” Peasblossom agreed bitterly.

  Part of me wanted to take the artifacts. Hide them in my pouch, give them back to their human stewards. So tempting.

  I sighed and touched each of the items in turn. My magic stirred, and I traced out a small mark on each one. Nothing serious, just a little speck of magic to help me find them again later.

  “What are you doing?”

  I flung the blanket back over the artifacts and let the lid fall closed before whirling around to face the unfamiliar voice. A maid stood in the doorway, dressed in a plain navy blue uniform that looked like it had slid back into fashion from another century. Her brown eyes were wide and she craned her neck to see what I was doing.

  “My cat,” I sputtered. I gestured lamely at the bed. “I—”

  Suddenly Scath’s words came back to me. She said Majesty was always trying to get to me. If I’d let him help, I could have some control, not of what he did, but when. I concentrated on a mental image of the kitten. Felt his soft fur under my fingers. Maj
esty…

  Majesty meowed.

  I tried not to look as shocked as I felt as he padded out from under the bed and jumped into my lap, purring and giving me a look suspiciously like smug satisfaction. I snatched him up and hugged him to my chest, mentally promising him all the treats as soon as I got out of here. “Oh, there you are,” I cooed, rubbing my face on the soft fur of his head.

  The maid blinked, the furrow between her brows giving me hope I was going to get away with the subterfuge. She opened her mouth, but a growl from downstairs cut her off.

  Scath’s warning that Alicia was on the move.

  “Mother Renard?” Alicia called out. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m coming!” I got to my feet, remembered I’d been “drugged,” and fumbled my way out of the room. I stood at the top of the stairs and mustered a weak smile for Alicia as I hefted Majesty into the air. “Little devil made a run for it.”

  Alicia was halfway up the stairs already, and she stared at Majesty, then jerked her head back to Scath. “I didn’t— I didn’t realize he’d gone up there.”

  “He’s a sneaky one,” I agreed, trying to make my voice sound thicker than normal. “I’m sorry, I should be going.”

  I edged past Alicia, aware that the maid hurried to her mistress’ side as soon as I passed. I heard her whisper to Alicia, but couldn’t make out the words.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me for rushing off,” I added, giving my gait a little more of an uneven sway. “I’m not feeling well.”

  “Wait,” Alicia said suddenly.

  I stopped beside the couch. The front door wasn’t far, I could get away easily if I ran. Though I hadn’t been kidding when I told Peasblossom I was more than a match for Alicia.

  “There’s something you need to know about Devanos,” Alicia said firmly.

  I hesitated, then turned back to face her. I expected her to lie, but the great thing about the fey’s inability to tell an outright lie meant when they were being manipulative, they often gave away a great deal to anyone who knew what to listen for. “What?”

  Alicia clasped her hands in front of her. “I know he told you he thinks I murdered Catherine’s mother. I have suffered under his accusations for years.”

  I waited.

  “Earlier I told you Catherine is desperate to go to court. What I didn’t mention was that originally, the reason Devanos refused to bring her wasn’t because it wasn’t safe for Catherine…it was because it wasn’t safe for Ameline. Ameline was practically human, thanks to my sister’s hereditary fondness for human men. Devanos knew she’d never survive at court. There was never a chance of Catherine getting to court as long as her mother was alive.”

  I waited, but she didn’t continue. Finally, I realized what she was getting at. “You think Catherine…killed her own mother?”

  Alicia’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “You’re a witch, Mother Renard. Surely you must know that sometimes it is the truth we are most desperate for that we are the least prepared to hear?”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  Alicia wrung her hands. “I want you to understand why I’ve done what I’ve done. Devanos doesn’t understand. I had to protect Catherine—”

  A scream from upstairs cut her off. Alicia’s eyes widened. “Catherine!” she cried.

  “She’s here?” I asked sharply. I jerked my attention to the stairs, but Scath was already moving, flowing up the stairs like a dark cloud.

  “Catherine!” Alicia cried again.

  I cursed and jolted forward, abandoning all pretense of being inebriated. Alicia was faster. I was five feet behind her as we cleared the staircase, and she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs ahead of me and fled down the hall in the opposite direction of her niece’s room. She darted through an open door and I followed, skidding to a halt in the doorway of a bedroom.

  Catherine lay on the floor. Blood soaked the front of her dress, and her eyes were closed. One hand lay limp on her stomach, wet with blood, and the other was thrown in the direction of the window.

  “Someone could’ve escaped out that window!” Alicia cried.

  “Scath, follow them!” I shouted, falling to my knees by the fallen half-sidhe. Majesty leapt out of my arms and I put one hand on Catherine’s neck, feeling for a pulse, while I covered the wound in her stomach with the other. Her pulse was still there, strong and panicked. Warning bells went off in my brain. That was wrong. If she was unconscious, her pulse should have been weak. And her stomach didn’t feel wet…

  Nothing I felt matched what I was seeing.

  It was all an illusion.

  Hands closed over my face from behind me, Alicia’s palms pressing so hard I felt her fingertips grating against my cheekbones. It took my brain another second to register the heat, but that was the way burns worked. It was always worse than you thought it was, often too late by the time the pain registered.

  “I am not so weak as Devanos would have everyone believe. And I won’t let you ruin everything,” Alicia growled. “Not when I’m so close.”

  Instinct drove me to grip her hands with mine, desperate to pry the iron brands from my face. My fingertips felt cold, and I jerked them away before my brain registered the burn. I couldn’t pry her hands off, not when she was using her power. I’d only sear more of my own skin. But I had to make her let go.

  I registered Peasblossom’s screams, but I couldn’t talk, couldn’t force any words past my tight lips. A scream bubbled inside me, but I didn’t have the breath to let it out.

  Panic flickered inside me, but I stomped it out. No. I meant it when I said I was more than a match for Alicia. And it was time to prove it.

  Fury drove through me like an iron spike, and I welcomed it, fed it until it exploded out of me. As a whoosh of breath passed my lips, I hissed the spell, raising my hands to clamp them down on Alicia’s forearms, above the part of her body that had been turned into a white hot branding iron.

  “Negativus!”

  Black light pulsed from my hands, seizing Alicia’s flesh and driving deep into her body. She sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t let go. The smell of burning flesh made my stomach turn, and bitter bile splashed against the back of my throat. I swallowed hard, channeled the fresh rush of panic into my magic, poured more energy into Alicia. Her thin, soft arms trembled under my touch, vibrating with the force of the energy I channeled through her. I squeezed until I felt her bones grind against my fingers. She screamed and released me.

  I had no time to dwell on the pain, no time for healing or even crying out. My face felt wet, and hot and cold at the same time. My breathing was too shallow, and the room spun around me as I pivoted and shoved my hand hard against Alicia’s solar plexus. She grunted as I knocked the air out of her, and I followed her as she fell backward, riding her down to the floor. I planted both hands flat against her chest, stared into her eyes until she looked at me.

  Suddenly Scath was at my side, teeth bared.

  “Check…body,” I wheezed.

  I heard a whimper, then “Catherine” stood up. She stared at me in horror, and a second later, the glamour shattered. It was the maid, still wearing her uniform. There was real blood on her dress, but not much, just enough that Scath would have smelled the blood, believed the glamour. She wasn’t hurt. Yet.

  “Get out,” I snarled.

  I didn’t have to tell her twice. She fled, tears streaming down her face, her eyes too wide.

  “Search…house. Find…Catherine. Or knife,” I told Scath.

  Scath did as I said. It was a refreshing change, unexpected enough that I laughed, a semi-hysterical sound. The pain was getting worse, my brain fully realizing the extent of the damage. A cold hard knot formed inside me, a sharp contrast to the blistering heat in my face.

  Alicia stared up at me, her lips parted, her eyes wide. Her breathing stuttered, her pulse racing so fast I could see the fluttering of the vein in her throat.

  “Peasblossom,” I rasped. “Iro
n filings.”

  “No!” Alicia writhed beneath me, but I called my magic again.

  “Glacio,” I whispered.

  Cold shot from my fingertips. It was more than what I’d done to Flint that first time I’d met him. This was more than just cold, more than just ice. This spell left my fingers so numb I had to renew my concentration to make sure I didn’t let up the pressure holding Alicia down. I shifted my weight forward and drove that cold deep into Alicia’s body, searching for the heat of her power. She was only half-vulcanus. To do what she’d done to me had to take a great deal of her energy. She’d be weak now. I reached for her power, and like blowing out a pilot light, I smothered that heat with a wash of frigid cold.

  “Here,” Peasblossom grunted, hefting a sealed vial out of my pouch.

  I smiled down at Alicia as I took the vial with my free hand. I knew my face must be a mess. I could feel my skin wet with blood and bodily fluids, feel my flesh peeling. I was hurt so bad I was beyond feeling the pain. But that would change. I needed to get out of here before the full force of the pain overwhelmed me.

  I held the iron filings over her face. “You talked to Mr. Masters…before he died. Didn’t you?”

  Alicia hissed. “Yes.”

  “You called Kathy…after. Tell me.”

  It hurt to talk. But now was the time to get answers. I glared down at Alicia, letting my expression deliver the threat of what would happen if she pretended not to understand the question.

  “I tried to buy the bowl from Masters.” Her teeth were chattering now, but she forced the words out. “He refused. When I heard he died, I approached Kathy. She told me it had been stolen. I paid her to destroy the carpet. Didn’t want anyone to know I’d been there. Didn’t want to be accused of the theft.”

  I wanted to ask about the artifacts under Catherine’s bed. Ask her if she’d known about them, if Catherine had stolen them on her own, or under Alicia’s orders. But I held my tongue. I had to leave them behind. If Alicia realized I’d left them on purpose instead of forgetting in the heat of the moment, then she might wonder why. She might find out about the curses.