Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy)

by Alessa Ellefson

  “I didn’t do anything!” I yell, holding my hands before me as if I’m strangling someone.

  My ring responds and a sheet of air blasts out, sundering the remains of an old desk in two. I stare at the result of my outburst, aghast.

  “How is it even possible?” I wonder aloud, staring at my hand like it’s a creature of its own.

  But my fit of rage is far from over, and recalling what I’ve just had to deal with makes those roiling emotions bubble to the surface once more. All because of that stupid Jennifer and her big mouth!

  Another blast of wind shoots out and pierces the wobbly cupboard in the back, drilling holes all over its dusty doors.

  Panting, I look at my handiwork with smug satisfaction. If Arthur were here, he’d be amazed at my progress. Except he’s not here, and, in fact, he’s been very good at avoiding me these past few days.

  And that, to my surprise, hurts more than anything else. After pretending to be on my side, to be helping me, the moment things got complicated, he’s decided to shun my presence, both publicly and privately. It’s like…I’ve been disowned!

  “If you didn’t want me as a sister,” I shout, “you should’ve. Just. Left. Me. Alone!”

  I punch my hand at every utterance, firing bursts of air with each stab, until not one piece of furniture in the room is left untouched. I keep on destroying everything around me, even as my head starts pounding and my shoulder aches so much I feel like I must have ripped my arm off.

  Finally, when the Fey is no longer responding to my murderous desires, I stop.

  “Serves you right,” I mutter, seconds before I pass out.

  “Drink this, dear.”

  I feel the cold touch of a cup being pressed to my lips and let cool water slip down my parched throat. I cough, and someone helps me sit up.

  “How…?” I start.

  “That was going to be my question to you.”

  I find myself staring into a pair of gray-brown eyes, and I give a jolt. “Lady Vivian!” I exclaim, fighting another bout of wooziness.

  When I feel stable enough to open my eyes again, I wish that I was still unconscious—my secret training room is a wreck, and there’s no doubt there’s going to be hell to pay.

  I give the principal a shaky smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Indeed.” Lady Vivian gets up in one smooth motion, her ochre dress shimmering about her like liquid gold, then helps me up. “I see you’ve found a use for these old items.”

  Hands behind my back, I throw her another apologetic smile. “I, uh, they weren’t as sturdy as I thought they’d be.”

  The torch on the wall gutters, throwing deep shadows on the principal’s statuesque features.

  “Well, what’s done is done,” the woman says with a sigh. She eyes me carefully, her eyebrows arched high. “I trust this shall not happen again?”

  I gulp. “No, ma’am.”

  “Good. Now run along, or you’re going to be late for your training session. I’ll get someone in here to clean this up for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I say, curtsying before dashing out of the room.

  I thank my guardian angel for letting me off the hook on this one. With everything else going on, I certainly don’t need to get on the principal’s bad side as well. If only I knew what was causing those strange deaths, then I would get out of this bloody mess.

  Could it be poison from one of those plants that only exist down here as I’ve seen in the Voynich manuscript20 that Dr. Cockleburr’s shown me? I mentally scratch that idea out—if it were, Dr. Cockleburr would know about it.

  The only explanation I can think of is that it’s Fey. But then, why would it have found itself in Switzerland first, then all the way here? The only thing the two places have in common is…me.

  A light breeze drifts in from the arrowslit window and tousles my hair. I pause in my tracks, and shake my head at the ludicrous thought.

  “We’ve been through this already!” a voice echoes down the hallway, startling me out of my own galling thoughts. “Why are we going over the same things over and over again? It’s not going to tell us anything new!”

  I flatten myself against the wall; eager to remain unnoticed.

  “Yet every time a few details change.”

  My breath catches. That was definitely Arthur’s voice; there’s no doubt about it. I peek around the corner to find an empty hallway adorned by pennons21 hanging down along the walls that I don’t recognize—where have I ended up?

  “Don’t forget Rei’s the one who told us of the Kruegers’ disappearance,” Arthur continues patiently. “And, as I found out just yesterday, the strange wind K and her were investigating turned out to be the wailings of a woman.”

  A collective gasp follows his words. Against my better judgment, I find myself tiptoeing toward the voices. I stop where the corridor turns. Along the outer corner, between two standing armors, is a set of ebony doors, into which a dragon-hunting scene has been carved. I jump back in fright when I see a dark shape zoom toward me, and realize that the reason I was able to hear this discussion is because Puck’s been snooping around. Sneaky little bugger.

  I draw closer to the narrow gap in the doorway left by Puck, without daring to peek in. There’s no doubt this is one of those infamous KORT sessions, and they’re discussing the murder. Which, I reason, completely justifies my eavesdropping.

  “But if that’s the case—” says Percy, sounding unusually tense.

  “A banshee,” says Gauvain.

  “That’s bad, real bad,” Gareth adds. “They are omens of death.”

  “And we all saw what happened to Rei,” another guy adds. “K’s probably already dead too.”

  “I will not allow you to talk that way!” Arthur says, raising his voice. “Until there is definite proof she is gone from us, we will consider K alive and keep up with our searches. Banshee or no banshee.”

  “But that does complicate the equation,” Lance says, with what appears to be a dash of excitement.

  “Which is why every watch and search must now be done in pairs of knights,” Arthur says, “and at least one of them must be a member of KORT.”

  Somebody bangs on the table. “That’s not fair! We’ve already doubled our workload, and now you want us to go on duty three times a week? There’s only eleven of us left, you know. Ten without K.”

  “I’m aware of that, Hector,” Arthur says. “But that’s part of the KORT package. If you don’t like it, we can find a replacement for you as well.”

  There’s a long pause, during which I can imagine Arthur’s hazel eyes boring into whoever the unlucky bloke at the other end is.

  “It’s fine,” the guy grumbles.

  “Now that’s settled,” Arthur resumes, “we should find where this banshee’s lair is, and fast. Samhain’s almost upon us, which means its powers will triple. So if anyone wants to do extra rounds, on top of the ones already assigned, I need some volunteers.”

  Before the meeting ends and I get caught, I shrink away from the door.

  “Well, you took your time, didn’t you?”

  I lower my eyes to the pristine floor as Dr. Cockleburr glares at me. There is nothing I can say that she’ll find excusable, least of all if I’ve been doing things I shouldn’t.

  “Since you’re over an hour late,” she continues, “you’ll stay here an hour later. I want the whole casualty room completely cleaned and disinfected, same with the ward. And that means bedding and drapes as well. And when you’re done with that, I want you to take inventory of all the medicines and herbs we have in the pharmacy and note which need to be replaced or restocked.”

  “All of it today?” I ask, doing a quick mental calculation of the time it’s going to take me to get it all done.

  “No, by next year,” she says, exuding sarcasm. “Of course today, now get a move on!”

  It takes me three hours, fifty-six minutes, and twenty seconds to get the ward beds changed and the room scrubb
ed to Dr. Cockleburr’s approval, and I haven’t even started on the pharmacy. As I put the broom and bucket away, two squires bring in an injured knight, leaving a bloody trail behind them.

  I groan as I pick up the bucket and mop once again.

  “No time for that,” Dr. Cockleburr tells me, pointing at the knight being lowered onto a table. “Help me with this one.”

  I recognize the girl, as her reckless behavior makes her prone to injury. I nod and rush to clean my hands and put on a clean apron. When I get back to the doctor’s side, however, the knight, Marianne, looks at me with frightened eyes.

  “M-Morgan?” she asks, blanching.

  “You’ll be all right,” I say. I grab some gauze to soak up the blood, but the girl flinches away from me.

  “N-No,” Marianne says. “I don’t want you near me.”

  “Don’t be silly,” the doctor says. “You’re in need of surgery, and I can’t do it on my own.”

  “No, not her!” the girl says, making the sign of the cross.

  My hand falls back to my side, and I make to move away, but Dr. Cockleburr stays me.

  “You’re speaking nonsense,” she says peremptorily to the knight. “You’ve told me before that you liked being treated by Morgan, that you felt you even healed faster.”

  “Witchcraft,” Marianne mumbles, on the verge of fainting.

  Dr. Cockleburr doesn’t look happy, but ultimately, the patient has the last word, and she’s forced to call Harry, a semiretired and nearly deaf nurse, to help her.

  For a few minutes, I stand in the doorway, watching the pair operate on Marianne, before I finally get my limbs to work again and leave. But the more I pace down the hallways, the more my anger boils.

  “I’m not going to stand by and let people insult me all the time,” I tell myself. “Especially when the school isn’t doing anything to help me.”

  I jab my finger at the school’s standard hanging on the opposite wall, a shield before a wide oak tree, with a pentacle inscribed on it.

  “How can you teach about defending the poor and the innocent when you don’t even know how to do that for those within your own walls?” I accuse the flag. “But you’ve messed with the wrong girl. I’m going to show you how finding the truth is done!”

  I humph, nodding vigorously at my brilliant statement. I’m going to show everyone that I’m not behind these murders. All I need is to find the real culprit.

  Pacing, I rehash all that I know. Arthur and his minions had talked about some banned-she of sorts, whatever that is, and that it could be behind those deaths. And the way to find that creature is to track it by its howling cries.

  Somehow, those words sound familiar. I frown, attempting to dig through layers upon layers of garbage in my memory, seeking a clue. I snap my head up.

  “Aha!” I say, punching my fist into my hand. “The bar.”

  Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I recall the farmers venting about their dogs barking at the strange keening wind coming from over the lake. And the only place around there where one can live on the lake is Island Park, where the Kruegers disappeared.

  None of us had seen anything back when we went to investigate with Nibs, but who’s to say that outlawed woman wasn’t hiding from us?

  I toy with the idea of telling KORT about what I’ve pieced together, but soon give up on it. I could be completely wrong about this, and if that’s the case, I don’t want to have another strike against me.

  Which leaves me with no choice but to find a way to get there on my own.

  “Morgan!”

  Something lands on my face, then falls on my plate and rolls away—a large piece of half-eaten carrot.

  “What?” I ask, rubbing my forehead.

  “We’ve been calling you forever,” Jack says, looking concerned.

  “What are you thinking about so intently?” Bri asks. “We know you didn’t do it, you know,” she adds more quietly.

  And she should be discreet. Though all the tables around us have been cleared, it’s hard to ignore the distrust and fear that crosses people’s faces whenever I’m present.

  “She’s thinking about that man of hers,” Keva says with a knowing smile. “I told you they were having an affair…You should pay up.”

  I frown at my roommate. “Will you drop that, please? First of all, there’s no way there’d ever be anything between me and Dean. He’s just our family lawyer doing what he’s told.”

  “Uh-huh,” Keva says with a roll of her eyes. “And everyone knows how top-paid lawyers are known for playing babysitters.”

  “Second,” I continue, ignoring her, “I’ve got more important things to think about right now than guys.”

  “Like what?” Bri asks.

  “Like it’s-none-of-your-business,” I reply.

  All three of them stare at me with undisguised weariness, forcing me to concentrate on the bottom of my plate instead.

  “I don’t like this,” Jack says in his soft voice. “She’s up to something.”

  “Yeah,” Bri says, “and that’s bound to end up wrong.”

  “Of course,” Keva adds. “Anything she does turns into a big mess.”

  I can feel their stares boring into me, eating away at my meager defenses. How can people ever keep secrets when they have friends so unabashedly curious?

  “Fine,” I say, “but you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone.”

  “Of course not,” Keva and Bri say with heavy nods.

  “I don’t know…” Jack starts, but stops when the other two girls glare at him. “Yeah, OK.”

  I take a deep breath, suddenly regretting my decision to tell them what I’ve learned. “Well, I overheard something last night…” I stop and look around to make sure we’re safe from prying ears. “I heard a KORT session.”

  “You mean you spied on them,” Keva snorts.

  “Call it whatever you want,” I say. “They were discussing, you know, the deaths.” All three of them lean forward in their chairs. “And they mentioned a banned-she something or other.”

  Jack chokes on the last of his food. “A banshee?” he repeats as Bri pounds his back.

  I nod. “Apparently it’s been roaming about on the surface near the lake, and that’s what K and Rei were checking into the night they disappeared. Why? What is it?”

  “Technically, they don’t do much,” Jack says. “But—”

  “They usually only appear when someone’s about to die,” Bri finishes for him. “They’re like carrion birds.”

  I try really hard not to picture Rei’s body before me, but find it difficult and gulp the rest of my water down to hide my unease.

  “So what’s that got to do with you?” Bri asks.

  “Well everything, of course!” I exclaim. “If I can find—”

  “You mean ‘they’?” Keva says pointedly.

  “This banshee creature,” I continue, “then my name will be cleared. I won’t have to deal with all these stupid taunts, and I may even be able to go back to Switzerland, finish high school there, and be done with this wacko place.”

  “You want to leave us?” Bri asks, stricken.

  I look away. “Well, I’d like to be independent as soon as possible,” I say. “And if that means leaving…”

  “You mean ‘they,’ don’t you?” Keva asks again, her voice rising. “KORT members?”

  “No, I mean I will look for it,” I say, annoyed. “They’ve had their go at it, but they’re obviously not getting anywhere.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Jack says. “You’re not even a knight. What am I saying? You’re not even a squire! What do you think you can do that they can’t?”

  And this is why I didn’t want to tell them in the first place. I sigh in frustration.

  “Seriously,” Bri says, looking tense, “you know better than everyone else how much I’d like to see them all burn, but this is stupid. You’re only going to get yourself killed—that’s what banshees are known for, foretelling so
meone’s death! Besides, you don’t even know how to do any kind of EM. How are you going to get up there?”

  I keep my eyes averted. There’s no way I’m going to spill more than I already have, especially if they’re not going to help me. I push my chair away.

  “You’re too young to understand,” I say, tossing my napkin on the table. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

  I have a feeling one of them is bound to break and tell someone about my plan. And that leaves me with but one solution: to go after the banshee tonight.

  I watch Sir Ywain limp away before I take out the spare key and unlock the armory. If there’s one good thing about all this stupid cleaning I’ve had to do, it’s that I know where everything’s kept.

  I scan the shelves filled to bursting. What I need is a weapon.

  “This’ll do nicely,” I say, coming upon a rack of swords.

  I grab one whose hilt ends in a glimmering dark blue stone— not a gem I recognize, but the point is that the sword’s made of iron.

  I grab it, but its weight pulls me forward, and the tip clangs against the floor. I jerk around, ears open for any other sound. When no one comes over, I hurry to replace the sword back where it belongs and settle instead for a much smaller blade.

  Knife tucked safely into my boot, I slink back outside, lock the door behind me, and head for the landing pad.

  “I knew it,” someone says behind me.

  I jump to the side, ready to defend myself. Keva and I both stare at each other, and then I drop my hands back down, sheepish.

  “If you think you’re gonna get the banshee like that, God save us all,” she says. “You might try not to close your eyes, for one.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, straightening my jacket. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

  “I’m your roommate,” Keva says. “Though frankly, you’re so transparent anybody can read what you’re going to do before you realize it yourself.”

  The wood creaks under us as we cross the wharf. When we reach the warding stone, I pause. Darkness has enveloped the fields ahead of us. I wish there were at least stars in this sky-lake, anything to dispel the sense of foreboding this lugubrious landscape is giving me.