by Bree Verity
Kerryn's face, arms and upper chest were visible, but the rest of her was covered by a long white sheet. It seemed like she was asleep - that is, until Fenella saw a wave under her skin - some of the malignant magic made its way across Kerryn's face like a snake slithering just below the surface
Fenella swallowed and wet her lips. She was embarrassed that a quiet sob of fear escaped her, but Nazryth put a hand on her arm, compassion flowing through his fingers.
"We are all afraid of the sickness," he said, his deep voice little more than a murmur.
Fenella looked at his kind eyes and nodded, although she was not able to summon a smile. She exhaled deeply, then looked across the bed to where Phineas was standing, his face yellowed in the light. He put a hand gently on the little girl's arm with a sharp intake of breath.
Following his lead, Fenella did the same.
"No, wait, Fen, there's a..."
Pain instantly poured into her at the contact and her mind filled with dark, intense images - the death of her mother, Phineas' betrayal, her father's harsh words as he forced her out of the only home she had ever known.
Despair engulfed her. Why did she ever think she could do this? She wasn't strong enough to beat the soul sickness. They might as well give up now. She cried out in anguish.
"Fenella!"
Her brother's voice came to her through her pain.
"It's the malignancy, Fen. You have to fight it."
She regarded Phineas balefully. What good would it do? It would hurt less, and be so much easier, just to take her hand off Kerryn, to turn and walk away, to tell Nazryth that no, she wasn't the savior they were looking for, she was just a plain old dark fae.
"Fight it, Fenella."
The urgency in Nazryth's voice caught Fenella's attention. Or was it the flow of energy that was entering her, white and bright and healing? Surprised, she glanced down to see Nazryth's hand on her once again. He had reached out to her, steadying her. She looked up for a long moment into his eyes, her resolve firming, and she nodded.
"Good girl."
She had been surprised by the seductive pull of the malignancy, but now knowing it for what it was, Fenella was able to push back, surprised to find it had flowed into her through her connection with Kerryn. She marveled at the little girl's strength - if only a jolt of the sickness had affected her in such a way, how on earth did a little girl survive it infecting her entire body? It only made Fenella more determined to fight on the girl's behalf.
Very shortly, she had pushed the darkness away, until it was little more than a niggling ache at the intersection of her shoulders and wings.
"I'm ready," she said quietly.
"Are you sure?" said Phineas, his eyes narrowing. "Because you can have as much time as you want."
"No, I'm okay. Thanks to Nazryth." She threw him a grateful smile, then turned back to Phineas. "Let's do this."
Phineas breathed in and out, then quietly started the chant.
Soul of the realm, hear me
Soul of the deep, hear me
Soul of the flesh, hear me
Soul of the child, hear me
Fenella joined him on the second round of the chant, feeling the magic swirling around them, almost like a fine dew, settling on her hair and her face.
It only took two full rounds of them chanting together for her to be transformed - everything around her vanished, with only Phineas, Kerryn and the table she was lying on, and Fenella still visible. In the distance, the horizon glowed an angry red, and the same red light bathed everything Fenella could see.
She turned concerned eyes upon Phineas. "Where are we?" Trying to look at everything at once, Fenella took a step away from the table.
"Don't let your link with Kerryn fail," Phineas warned quickly. "We are in her soul realm."
"I can still hear chanting. Where is that coming from?"
"You and I." Phineas grinned at Fenella's confusion before explaining, "Our consciousness is inhabiting our souls at the moment, but our physical bodies are still working. The chant seems to come automatically."
"How do you know all this?"
"We've tried these spells before, Fen. I've been here before." Suddenly he shivered. "I wish I hadn't had to come back."
Fenella agreed. She had never inhabited someone else's soul space before, and it was unnerving - especially here where she knew soul sickness lurked.
"Are we safe?"
Phineas shrugged. "None of us seem to have become infected from previous visits, so we probably are," he said, "but really, we don't know. It's all new territory for all of us."
"There was nothing in the book?"
Her brother shook his head. "Just the chant."
"Any clues about what we're supposed to do now that we are here."
"I should think it was pretty obvious," Phineas replied, indicating that Fenella should look at Kerryn.
When she did, she clapped her spare hand over her mouth in horror.
The sheet was no longer visible over the little girl's body, and her skin was transparent. Underneath lay a second version of Kerryn, but this one was blackened and putrid over large portions of her body and the face distorted, mouth wide in a permanent silent scream of pain. Her eyes were wide open and, even as Fenella watched in repugnance, a thin black worm snaked out from under her eyelid and crossed her eyeball. She felt nauseous.
"We have to remove the... the worms?"
Phineas nodded grimly. "And squash them."
With a shudder, Fenella asked, "How do we do it?"
"First we have to locate the tools Maryse left the last time she came."
Looking about, Fenella spied a large glass jar with a lid and a pair of what looked like tweezers.
"Is it these?"
"Yes. And I have mine over this side." Phineas picked up his glass jar and placed it alongside the body on the bed. Fenella did the same, also picking up her tweezers.
"So, we just pluck them off and then drop them in the jar?"
"I think so."
But it was harder than they thought. The black worms moved super-fast, and just catching one with the tweezers was difficult. Then, when it was caught, the malignancy fought back, producing a foul yellow ooze that gripped fast to Kerryn, and that seemed to affect Fenella's thoughts again. It took two hands on the tweezers and all of Fenella's physical and mental strength to pull each worm free and to imprison it in the glass jar. Once it was in, the worm lost all shape and form, and became a wisp of dark smoke, angrily swirling in the jar. Fenella hated to think what might happen if the lid of the jar was left off. So, she was very careful to replace it after each extraction.
They worked over the little girl's body for what felt like hours, extracting the horrible magic and sequestering it away. Fenella could feel the perspiration rolling from her hair, down her back between her wings. It seemed the most strenuous exercise she had ever performed. Her muscles ached and her concentration was breaking down.
"Phin?" she said. "I need a break."
"We can't afford the time, Fen. You know that."
"But I'm spent, Phineas. I just can't go on."
"But it looks like we're reaching the end of the malignancy, Fen. And look! The color is returning to the blackened parts of her soul."
Wiping sweat from her eyes; Fenella was vaguely pleased to see the dark patches on the girl's body were receding. But she still couldn't keep going.
"I don't even know why we're trying, Phin. We can't win."
Phineas looked up sharply at Fenella. "You're letting it in, Fen," he said carefully. "Don't let it in."
"I can't help it. It's just so overwhelming. Can't you feel it?"
For a moment Phineas stared at her, then his shoulders dropped. "I know," he replied, a little hesitantly. "We're a pair of fools, aren't we? I mean, we're just us. Nobody special. How did we think we'd be able to win?" He looked down at the little girl dispassionately. "Kerryn was dead already. All we've done is increased her pain."
&nb
sp; Fenella looked at him across the body. "I think we should go," she said, impulsively reaching out her hand across the little girl's body to Phineas. "There's nothing more we can do here."
Phineas nodded glumly and took her outreached hand.
And something incredible happened.
Fenella gasped as a powerful surge of energy crossed and recrossed her, removing her fatigue and bringing her thoughts back into line. She could see her surprise mirrored on her brother's face.
Even more amazing, the angered magic inside the jars seemed to disappear with one last swirl.
And on the transparent outline of the little girl, the one that lay above her soul, she opened her eyes and smiled.
Chapter Sixteen.
When they disconnected from Kerryn's soul, Fenella fell into a deep sleep, only awakening when she smelled something delicious. Drowsily, she opened her eyes to find herself on a comfortable couch, in what seemed to be Nazryth's office.
"What happened?" she said, struggling to sit up, feeling a little bit foolish at taking a nap with Nazryth looking over her.
He just smiled. "You did it," he said. "You and Phineas. We weren't sure if you were going to be able, but then suddenly Kerryn opened her eyes."
"It was when we joined together," Fenella said. "When Phineas and I took each other's hand."
"'When two halves of the whole combine, the weave of the spell will intertwine,'" Nazryth intoned. "We should have realized."
Fenella shrugged. "How could you?" she said. "You're all working as blindly as anyone on this."
He nodded. "What exactly happened when you and Phineas joined hands?"
Fenella struggled to remember. "It was like the malignancy just... died," she said. "One second it was there and squirming around and I was telling Phineas that we couldn't continue... then we joined hands and the malignancy just died."
Her stomach let out an audible rumble, and Fenella flushed while Nazryth chuckled.
"Sounds as if killing soul sickness might have made you hungry," he suggested, and Fenella nodded.
"It would appear so."
"Do you have the strength to stand up?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
He grinned again. "Because I had to carry you in here. Your limbs were like jelly and you couldn't string a sentence together. You fell asleep in less than a minute."
Fenella flushed again, both at Nazryth's amusement, and at the thought of being in such an intimate position with him. She stood up from the couch, testing her legs as she did.
"They feel fine."
"Good. Then if you want to go out through that door and to the right, our kitchen is right there, and I believe they are serving up a good, thick, squirrel and sorrel stew."
Fenella's mouth watered and with a nod of thanks, she left the room, knowing Nazryth's startling blue eyes were on her. The corridor to the right led to a large open room with lots of chairs and tables and at one she saw Phineas scooping stew into his mouth as fast as he could politely do so.
"How do I get some of that?" she said, pulling out the chair from opposite him, but she didn't have to wait - before she had even finished speaking a bowl of the fragrant food was dropped on the table in front of her, and she wasted no time tucking in. The stew was amazing - the squirrel cooked to soft perfection and the sorrel green and sharp, the other vegetables firm and soft. Fenella couldn't eat fast enough.
Phineas smiled at her, still scooping.
It was only minutes later that the two of them sat back, and Fenella said, "Is there more?"
Phineas looked around, but there was nobody bearing down on them with another two bowls. "Seems not," he said. "I think Nazryth and Maryse want to find out what actually happened in there."
"I already told Nazryth," Fenella replied.
"I think they'll want more than just a quick rundown."
"What time is it?" Fenella suddenly realised she had lost track and wondered how her fairy godchild (and Lachlan) had been getting on.
Phineas shook his head. "No idea." He stretched, arms up in the air. "But I think it's late."
"How late?"
"It's actually early," said Maryse, taking a seat at their table.
Fenella was suddenly alert. "What time is it?"
"Early-morning."
"So, I've been here a whole night?"
Maryse smiled. "No, two nights."
"What?" Fenella stood up, flinging back her chair. "Two nights? I have to get back!"
Chapter Seventeen.
For one tiny, exquisite moment when she had woken up, Diana had thought she was in her own room, sateen coverlet firmly pulled up to her chin.
But the moment passed almost instantly, as she heard Maisie's grating voice say, "Good morning!" and she realized the coverlet was the scratchy blanket and she was still in tiny, cold room that she collapsed in last night after the hardest day of work she had ever encountered.
She groaned, discovering sinews she did not even realize existed in her body. It was all she could do not to cry.
"Are you alright, my Lady?" asked Maisie, apparently noticing the expression on Diana's face.
"Oh Maisie, I was certain I would wake up and find it was all a perfectly horrible nightmare. And yet here I am, still here, the nightmare is real, and I am forsaken by my fairy godmother, and my entire body aches."
"It's not all bad," replied Maisie, but with some sympathy. "At least you have food for your belly and a nice place to sleep."
"Nice?" Diana sniffed.
"Well, its nicer than some of the places I've had to sleep," retorted Maisie.
Diana continued as if she had not heard Maisie at all. "I am nearly certain that the cold in the air and the lack of blankets has made me stiff and sore," she whimpered. "Indeed, I can barely move some of my limbs."
"That'll be because you're not used to the work," Maisie replied with a knowing nod.
"Yet I am expected to do the same amount of work today?"
"You know I will not allow you to work, my Lady," Maisie said haughtily. "However, you still need to be dressed in your uniform, and come with me, so that you stay unremarkable."
"Oh Maisie," she sighed. "I cannot thank you enough. What would I do without you?"
"Probably curl up into a ball and die," Maisie replied cheerfully.
"I fear it could happen," Diana replied. She gingerly put her feet on the floor and stood up, hands cradling her lower back. "Oh," she groaned, leaning backward in a stretch. "That feels good."
Maisie grinned. "It really does, but you should hurry up and get dressed. Breakfast won't last forever."
With a sigh of disappointment, Diana donned the ugly, stiff uniform and once again made her way to the kitchen, this time making sure she ate a bowlful of the sludgy porridge, trying to ignore its consistency.
A couple of cups of tea revived her, and with a little movement, her limbs started to function better, still she did not look forward to her day. She felt homesick for her own life, her own face. Suddenly, she felt the need to stare into a silver platter.
"Who polishes the silver?" she asked Maisie quietly.
"Mrs. Fletcher and Hattie," Maisie replied "Why?"
"I need a silver platter."
"What for?"
"So I can see myself."
Maisie frowned. "Didn't you look at yourself in the glass before you came out of the bed chamber?"
"That's not me, Maisie," she said, emphasizing each word. "I want to see the real me."
Maisie clearly still did not understand, but said, "I'm afraid you're out of luck there, my Lady. Nobody touches the silver platters unless they have sandwiches or a soup tureen on top of them."
"Maisie."
The sharp call came from Mrs. Fletcher and both Maisie and Diana looked up guiltily. All the servants around the table fell silent, knowing from Mrs. Fletcher's tone that someone was about to get in trouble.
"What did you just call Annie?"
Maisie threw a quick, frightened glance at Dian
a and stood up. "I... I called her my Lady, Mrs. Fletcher."
"And why would you do such a thing?"
Seeing that Maisie would never be able to come up with an excuse, Diana also stood. "She thinks I have airs and graces, like Lady Diana. She gave me the nickname yesterday."
Mrs. Fletcher huffed. "Indeed, she is right. You do carry yourself a bit too haughty for a housemaid. Still," she turned her attention back to Maisie, "nobody below stairs is entitled to that name, so I would appreciate it if you stopped calling her 'my lady' and went back to calling her plain old 'Annie'. If that is alright with you?"
Mrs. Fletcher's tone brooked no opposition, and with a gulp, Maisie replied, "Certainly, Mrs. Fletcher."
"Very well then." With a wave of her hand, Mrs. Fletcher dismissed them both, and Diana sank back down in her chair, knees shaking.
Neither she nor Maisie spoke another word until they were given permission to flee the kitchen.
* * *
"Psst. Diana."
As she hurried past, Diana was surprised to hear a voice calling her, and even more surprised to find it was Lady Diana - Lachlan - calling her name.
"Come with me."
With a glance at Maisie, Diana followed her twin up the stairs and into the shadowy drawing room, which had not yet been opened for the morning.
Lachlan left no time for pleasantries. "Have you heard from Fenella?"
"No. Have you?"
"No." A crease appeared in the familiar face. "And I've gone past annoyance and into worry. What on earth could have happened to her?"
"Happened to her?" Diana gasped. "Could she be dead?"
"No, nothing like that" comforted Lachlan. "If she was dead, your transformation spell would have broken."
Diana didn't know whether to be relieved or even more incensed with her fairy godmother.
"In that case, I truly do hope she has a wonderful excuse for leaving the pair of us stranded like this. I for one, cannot wait to hear her excuses." Diana's tone was cold.
"There's something else." Lachlan fidgeted. "I may have made a mistake on your behalf yesterday."
