No Chance in Spell

by ReGina Welling

  “Sorry,” Terra muttered from behind me while Soleil squinched up her face, engulfed herself in flame, and burned the vines to ash.

  And then it was on.

  Their magic fed off aggression like it was a succulent morsel or finest nectar, and grew so fast that it prickled across my skin in a breathless wave. I looked around and realized I was standing right in the middle between where Vaeta squared off against the others. Ground zero. Don’t tell anyone, but I hauled my butt out of there while it was still attached to my body and took refuge in the hallway beyond.

  “Something wrong?” Kin’s voice in my ear triggered a fight or flight reflex that ended with the two of us plastered against the front door.

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” An explosion rocked the kitchen. “Faerie fight,” I explained.

  “Shouldn’t you go in there and put a stop to it?”

  “Probably.” I shrugged and caught a flying frog in my left hand. “Or you could try.” I handed him the frog, bat-like wings and all. “Vaeta brought this mess on herself.” I had no sympathy for her after what she’d done.

  Kin held the frog up for better inspection. “If this is the worst they do, I can’t see how these fights are as bad as you make them out to be. This little fellow is kind of cute.” Whereupon, the little amphibian belched fire and singed a swath of hair off Kin’s arm.

  “Dragolian frog. The snot’s essential for certain spells, but they breed like rabbits.”

  “Regular rabbits or Dragolian ones?” He thought he was funny. Let a rabbit the size of an elephant with a brain as small as a pea loose in his backyard, and I bet he wouldn’t be laughing quite so hard.

  “You’re not going to do anything?” Kin seemed surprised at my apathy, but not as surprised as he was by the tendrils of ivy creeping across the walls and ceiling. A particularly saucy stalk twined up his leg and goosed him hard enough that he yelped. “Ow. Stop that.” He slapped at the questing plant, which took offense and tried to choke him.

  “Terra!” I shouted. “Call off your minions.” The vine retreated with a reluctant rustle of leaves. Kin rubbed his neck and swallowed hard.

  “I had no idea things got this dangerous around here. It must have been an interesting place to grow up.”

  Interesting wasn’t the half of it. All things considered, this was shaping up to a fairly tame fight thus far. I’d seen worse. Way worse. There was the time when I was six, and all the dust bunnies in the house came to life.

  Talk about creepy. Hairy tumbleweeds with teeth. No wonder kids have nightmares about the boogeyman. Actually, he’s not all that bad when you get to know him. Excellent sense of humor and you get used to the smell after a while.

  When the kitchen went suddenly silent, I began to worry. Silence during faerie wars is always a bad sign. Mist, dense and damp, built at the end of the hall, its advance toward us slow and ominous. Evian’s work. The scent of fresh brimstone confirmed Soleil’s fingerprints on the sound-dampening cloud as well.

  Sighing, I dragged Kin toward the kerfuffle. Better the chaos you know than the chaos you imagine. Okay, that’s not true, but it sounded like common sense at the time.

  “Stay behind me where it’s safer.”

  “I'm not a child.”

  “Then don’t act like one,” I snapped back and quelled the mutiny before it had time to ramp up. “Don’t for one minute imagine that just because they like you, they won’t let something weird happen to you. When they’re in Armageddon mode, it’s every man for himself. But, hey, if you want to take a chance you won’t get turned into a toad, or something worse, knock yourself out.”

  “You’re cranky,” Kin helpfully pointed out, but my searing look failed to have any effect on him and set the bow to chiming out its temple-throbbing warning tone. Like I needed input from some sentient weapon on a perpetual ride-along in my head.

  Huffing out a breath, I informed him, “Vaeta crossed a line, okay? I’m not sure I trust myself to step into the fray this time. I might be tempted to start tossing around my own magic.” Hot blood coursed through my veins, sending my nerves twanging.

  The faeries knew they were welcome to invite their eclectic blend of friends into the house with utter abandon. My home was their home, and I’d always wanted them to feel comfortable in it. For all I knew, many demons had made their way through the front door—it’s not like I asked visitors to provide a pedigree and three references before they were invited in.

  So why was I ready to chew nails and spit out bullets every time I pictured Rhys’s admittedly-fine backside strolling down my front walk? I’m normally an even-tempered witch. Craziness sneaking up on me? After the past few months, who could blame me?

  Well, I guess Kin could, given the look on his face. The hint of shock, the soupcon of disapproval, and the dash of fear said more than words could convey, and I didn’t like the version of me that could write those things there.

  “I’m sorry. The stress is getting to me, but Vaeta invited a demon into the house, and I’m not particularly pleased with her at the moment.” Or with the babbling Bow of Destiny perched on top of the stress pile like the cherry on a sundae. “Come on, I’ll go see if I can get them to take it down a notch.”

  We made it halfway down the hall before I knew it was already way too late for that. The house wheezed and sucked in a breath like a bellows pulls in air, the force putting pressure on my eardrums. Before you could say boo, the kitchen belched a smell so foul you’d consider Eau de Rotten Egg the finest of perfumes in comparison.

  Gagging, Kin spun and shot for the front door, and if I’d had a choice, I’d have been right behind him. But this was my circus, and those were my monkeys, so I pinched my nose shut and headed toward the big top instead of away.

  I skidded to a stop at the edge of a pit full of bubbling goop that now occupied the space where the table and chairs used to be. I wiped my sleeve across my eyes to clear the stream of tears brought on by the noxious fumes. A mini snow storm raged in the newly doorless refrigerator, but other than those two things, the room looked the same as always.

  Skirting the pool of goo, I made my way to the sliding doors leading out to the patio that separated the house from the back yard. Kin slipped through the side gate just as I stepped off the flagstones. Smart. He’d gone around from the outside to avoid the foul stench in the kitchen.

  But dumb, because he was still here.

  “You should have gone home while you had the chance.” I snapped unapologetically. It would be easier if I didn’t have to worry about him carelessly wandering into something dangerous like a patch of faerie snapdragons. Not to be confused with the floral variety, these resembled flying turtles, traveled in packs and considered a good, juicy ankle the finest of delicacies.

  “And leave you here to have all the fun?” Other than the swamp stench, he’d seen the most benign faerie fracas in history. Figures. Just when I finally wanted to give him a taste of life with Lexi, they go and...

  I never finished that thought.

  The world—well, technically just the backyard—shook like a dog after a bath.

  “It’s an earthquake.” Kin shouted in my ear and then threw his body over mine like a shield. Cute, but unnecessary and besides, he knocked the breath out of me.

  “Get off,” I gave him a shove as soon as the shaking stopped. “It’s not an earthquake, it’s Terra. Come on!” Moving as fast as I dared, I led Kin in the direction that felt like the epicenter.

  One of the perks of living with four elemental Fae is the spatial distortion that turns my urban sized backyard into acres of castle-worthy gardens straight out of the Faelands. On the downside, faerie fights tend to expand to occupy the entire space in which they occur. Faerie physics. It’s a thing.

  If I were lucky, I’d find them before we had a scorched-earth situation on our hands.

  “Don’t touch that.” I caught Kin just in time.

  “What? This harmless little flower? You’re a bit keyed
up today.” Fragrant petals the color of a bluebird’s feathers begged for the touch of an innocent finger to test if they really were as soft as they looked.

  “How could you have forgotten about that frog so quickly? I can still smell scorched arm hair, and that harmless little flower will wipe every thought out of your head for a full twenty-four hours. So unless you want to spend the rest of the day doing anything more useful than drooling, you’d better leave it alone.” If he kept making comments about my attitude, I might offer him a bouquet.

  Kin pulled his hand back quickly, wiped it on his pants before wrapping it around my own, and we continued on toward the booming sounds, sparkles rising above the trees, and loud voices.

  “Almost there.” Kin surged on ahead, his long legs eating the ground slightly faster than mine. He dropped my hand as we broke into the clearing and sprinted right into no man’s land—the space between Vaeta and the others.

  “Stop it, now. All of you.” His commanding tone sent a little thrill up my spine. There’s something sexy about a man willing to wade into danger and take control. Yum.

  Still, if you’re going to do that type of thing, I have one piece of advice: know your audience. Make that two pieces: don’t try it with faeries unless you’re stronger than they are.

  Okay, three pieces of advice: you’re not stronger than faeries, so kids, don’t try this at home.

  Taking the hit from four different directions at once, Kin never stood a chance. Faster than you can say don’t do it, he went down in a barrage of elemental fury. Evian’s blast of water mixed with Soleil’s gout of flame and intercepted Terra’s ball of dirt. Vaeta jetted a shot of air toward the steaming mud ball, intending to lob it back at her sisters, but her aim was off. The gust tangled with the glob of mud and whipped it into a whirlwind of gunk that engulfed Kin like the world’s most aggressive spa treatment.

  Fury swept from the tips of my toes to the split ends of my hair (Flix needed to get back from his mad-at-me vacation and work his magic on my neglected tresses), and a ball of black witchfire began to grow in the palm of my hand.

  “Enough.” I spun around when Clara clapped her hands together four times in rapid succession. The fourth clap sounded like thunder, killed my ball of witchfire with a sizzle, and when the echo died, silence shrouded the clearing. A silence born from shock and surprise.

  I wish I’d been watching the results of Clara’s interference rather than the act itself because I would have loved to see her turn their own magic against them. Four bedraggled faeries stood in a circle around Kin, who no longer looked like he’d been dipped in a swamp and hung out to dry. He was so clean he almost sparkled. My godmothers, however, had each found their elements returned to them. Forcefully, from the looks of it.

  Evian was drenched and dripping while Vaeta looked like she’d taken a spin on the hairy edge of her own tornado, her face scoured pink with windburn. Terra, caked in dirt and grime, blinked her eyes at Clara and they were the only part of her that was clean. In that respect, she and Soleil could have been twins if not for the color difference between soil and soot. Where Terra sported all the browns of the earth, Soleil looked like she’d been rolling around in the blackest ash to ever grace a fireplace.

  “I trust you will find a way to discuss your differences in a more civilized manner.” Clara spun on her heel and departed for the house, leaving the godmothers in her wake and looking like chastised children.

  “We’re sorry Lexi, Kin.” Terra braved the infuriated look on my face, and the others nodded in agreement but remained silent.

  Knowing I couldn’t respond with any sort of civility, I grabbed Kin’s hand and stalked away.

  Chapter Six

  CLARA

  “Spoiled brats. Honestly, you’d think after an eternity’s worth of years, those faeries would learn to act their age.”

  Mag looked up from her knitting, and the Balefire flared with red hot flames when I stormed back into the house. The hint of a smirk on her face sent my temper right back up to the redline.

  “Don’t get me started on your attitude. It’s your fault Lexi grew up refereeing this nonsense. Was there some reason you, as her nearest living relative, couldn’t be bothered to take care of my granddaughter? How do you think it makes me feel, knowing you all but abandoned her too?”

  The question tore my soul on its way out, but it had been simmering beneath my marble surface for over two decades and was determined to be set free.

  My sister never had a family of her own, and if that bothered her, she hid the pain so deeply behind her sense of adventure that even she couldn’t find it. Yet, I never thought she would turn her back on me and mine during a crisis.

  Slowly and with great deliberation, Mag stabbed her needles into the ball of yarn, stuffed it into her bag, and went upstairs.

  I followed and watched her yank open the top drawer of an antique oak dresser, scoop up the meager contents, and stuff everything into her knitting bag.

  “I’ll go. I should have known better than to think staying here was a good idea.” Grim-faced, she tried to get past me, but I blocked the door.

  “I didn’t ask you to leave; I asked you why you weren’t there for Lexi when she needed you.”

  “What answer will satisfy you, Clara? That I stopped coming around because my presence always made things worse between you and Sylvana? That I was furious with you for letting that brat walk all over you the way she did? Or that I didn’t find out what happened to the pair of you for several months, and by then it was too late?”

  The last was news to me, but I wasn't in the mood to forgive. “Flimsy excuses.”

  “Well, here’s the one that caps them all, then. Kids scare the bejesus out of me. It was probably a good thing I never had any of my own. I’d have made a hash of things.”

  Finally, a new truth. An embarrassing one if the dull red of her face was any indication. One I knew I could forgive.

  “I know I screwed up, okay? I’d been tracking...Well, that’s not important, but I was gone longer than I planned and I had no idea what happened. I stopped in at Athena’s when I passed through the Fringe on my way home, and she told me some cockeyed story about you killing Sylvana, so I came straight here.”

  Hot acid still churned in my stomach, but I tried to picture it while Mag described finding Lexi happily ensconced with three faeries attending to her every whim.

  “I hid in the bushes and watched the way they doted on her. She was happy, Clara. Smiling and laughing and I didn’t have the heart to tear her away when they were taking better care of her than I ever could. So, I waited for Beltane that year and came in with the rest of the flame bearers for a closer look.” Mag hung her head so I couldn’t see her eyes.

  Witches come in all different flavors of magical ability. Mine, like my mother’s before me and Lexi’s, showed itself in an innate affinity with the Balefire—all my other skills I learned through diligence. The Balefire certainly enhanced any strengths I developed on my own—save for divination, which I doubted I’d ever master. With my focus on home and family, I was the natural choice to become Keeper.

  My polar opposite, Mag had exited our mother’s womb with a burning desire to know what existed beyond the boundaries of our property. Where I struggled to See anything, the crystal ball showed her many things. I suspect some things it chose to reveal were painful for her, and those she kept to herself.

  Instead, she regaled me with stories of scenes from far-away places, and when Mother finally gave permission, Mag wasted no time before setting off to find her way in the wide world. She stopped telling me the gory details of her exploits around the time she returned looking like she’d aged 70 human years in the course of a week. I knew Mag had done a lot of good for a lot of people, which makes it doubly distressing she didn’t choose to raise Lexi when she had the chance.

  Unless there was another reason. Of course, there was another reason, and it had nothing to do with being scared of babies, which wa
s the dumbest thing I’d ever heard. Mag fears little in this world.

  “You saw something.” I knew I’d hit the nail on the head when she flinched. “You did. You tell me right now if there’s something horrible looming in Lexi’s future.”

  “Clarie, it’s complicated.” Mag using her pet name for me increased my suspicions.

  “Then simplify it for me. I may have been turned to stone, but I don’t have granite between my ears.”

  Mag tossed her packed bag down on the bed, eased her body back into the chair, and gestured for me to sit on the bed. If I needed to sit, her news had to be bad. “I knew.”

  “Knew what?” I prompted when she fell silent.

  “All of it. That without intervention, Lexi’s magic would never come. Did you really think I bought the story of you murdering your own daughter? I saw it in the crystal. You, Sylvana, the fight, the aftermath; and I knew if there was a way to keep Lexi safe, you would want me to take it.”

  The confession staggered me, and I was glad she’d made me sit.

  “You thought you could keep Lexi from becoming a Fate Weaver if you let her be raised by faeries instead of witches.”

  “Lexi was born a Fate Weaver, as you well know, but that was Sylvana’s choice and none of mine, dear sister. I walked away from her to keep her safe. A witch without power is no threat to anyone, nor is a Fate Weaver.”

  I stared at her as the implications set in.

  “Choosing to do nothing wasn’t easy for me, Clarie. It broke my heart to wait and watch her grow sadder as each birthday passed and she hadn’t achieved her Awakening. Then Sylvana escaped, and I chose to follow her instead of watching over Lexi. I should have known that wily minx of yours would get past me and do damage. I’m not as fast as I used to be.”

  Mag tossed me a wry smile, but her eyes only stayed on mine for a bare second.