Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy)

by Alessa Ellefson

  “Drive,” I say. “Hurry!”

  “Why? Where to?” he asks while doing as I ask.

  “The lake. And step on it!”

  The drive is tense as the car eats up the miles, occasionally skipping on patches of ice. Thankfully, at this time and in these weather conditions, most people are home.

  The tires screech as Percy breaks before engaging the car into the small path toward the cemetery. Through the leafless trees, I can see a few of the mental institute’s lights twinkle across the fields.

  The moment the car stops I jump out of the car. I hear Percy slam the door shut as I rush away. The snow crunches under our feet as we march through the weeds toward the water. Twice I trip as my foot gets tangled up in roots, and twice Percy catches me.

  “Now will ya tell me what all the fuss is about?” he asks as we reach the shore, crossing his arms. “Ya ain’t gonna make it down there without me, ya know?”

  “Touché,” I say, my breath fogging in the air.

  We both look at the ice-covered lake reflecting the city lights in the distance.

  “Yeah, I’m terrible at coming up with good plans,” I admit, “but I need to go back there.”

  “To school?” Percy asks, sounding shocked. “But Arthur forbid it?”

  “I need to speak to him, it’s urgent,” I reply, hoping he can’t tell that I’m lying.

  “I s’pose,” Percy says, digging his hands in his pockets. “Definitely would change from babysittin’.”

  “So are you going to help me or not?” I ask him.

  Percy lets out a theatrical sigh. “I s’pose I’ll have to,” he says. “Ya’re crazy enough to dive in there on yer own if I don’t.”

  Disguising my cry of victory into a cough, I grab his hand, and we both step onto the frozen water together. Half walking, half sliding, we make our way farther onto Lake Winnebago, until the sheet of ice beneath us threatens to break.

  “Well, here goes,” Percy says.

  A green bubble rises around us in a protective cocoon. Then Percy aims his hand down, and a jet of bright red bursts forth. A split second later, and I squeal as we drop into the pitch-black waters.

  I expect to see the top of the school within minutes, but something happens in the water, and we get jostled around.

  “Hold on tight!” Percy shouts in my ear.

  We wheel about, then torpedo our way deeper into the lake until I’m not sure which way is up or down anymore. I squeeze my arms around Percy’s neck so hard I’m sure I must be choking him. Just as I’m about to get sick, we break through the lower barrier of the lake and pitch through the air toward the ground at bullet speed.

  I scream as the dark ground below comes rushing toward us. At the very last moment, Percy changes our course, and I let go. I roll for about ten thousand miles in the tall grass, then finally come to a stop, bruised and with about five dozen bumps forming on my cranium.

  “What was that all about?” I ask, picking myself up.

  I wipe off the slick water dripping down into my eyes and sticking my hair to my face. “What happened that we’re all wet? This didn’t happen the last time.”

  “Blood,” Percy says.

  My hand stills on its way to squeezing the thick water out of my hair. “What did you just say?”

  “Looks like we swam through blood,” he repeats, spitting on the ground.

  “I knew it,” I say, too grossed out to dare move again.

  “What didja know?”

  “It’s the plagues.” I lick my lips and regret it immediately. “That’s…seven now, I think. Maybe eight.”

  “Whattaya talkin’ ’bout?”

  There’s a small pop and fizzling, and two small orbs of fire appear between us, hovering in the air at eye level.

  “You’re as foul as I feel,” I say, watching the blood pooling in the grass at his feet.

  “Cold shower?” he asks me with a crooked smile.

  Before I can reply, he sprays me with the coldest water I’ve ever felt, but I bare myself to it gratefully.

  “That should do it, eh?” Percy says with a large grin. “You now look brand-spankin’ new!”

  He turns about, orienting himself. “School’s that way,” he says. “Let’s pony up!”31

  I hesitate. We’ve landed in an area close to the forest, and I feel it beckoning me to come forth.

  “Whatcha doin’?” Percy asks when he realizes I’m not following him. “Afraid Arthur’s gonna clean your plow?32 Dunna worry ’bout it, I’ll talk to ’im and save yer pretty backside from a whip-pin’. Not that you haven’t deserved it, mind.”

  He motions for me to follow, when a girl runs straight into him, and they both topple to the ground together. Quick as a cheetah, the girl comes back up into a low crouch, her face reflecting the gold of Percy’s roving lights.

  “What are ya doin’ here?” Percy asks, getting up a second later. “Ya shouldna be outside school boundaries. It ain’t safe.”

  The girl’s scowl turns into a smile of derision that doesn’t reach her piercing blue eyes. “Oh, schoolkids, just my luck.”

  “Blanchefleur?” I ask.

  The girl tenses, then turns toward me. “Lady Morgan,” she whispers.

  A low cackle reaches us through the tall grass, one that fills me with fear.

  “Down!” I scream as a black shape jumps into the air toward Percy and the Fey girl.

  Percy reacts on instinct and dives to the side, but Blanchefleur pivots slightly on one foot, and the creature lands inches from her, long claws digging into the soft soil.

  “It’s her,” I say, my throat dry. “The banshee.”

  A good thing I haven’t had anything to drink all day, or I would pee myself. The black cowl turns toward me, and a too-familiar wailing emerges from its recesses.

  “Morgan, watch out!” Percy yells as the vicious creature bounds toward me.

  I throw myself to the side, feeling the banshee’s tattered robes brush against my legs as she hurtles past. I reach to my belt for a knife, then realize that, once again, I’m weaponless. I watch as the banshee’s dark form collects herself, my limbs shaking so much I can’t get back to my feet.

  Before she can attack again, however, Blanchefleur launches herself at the creature, the glow of her long, crystalline blade flooding the area in a silvery light. The banshee throws her arms out in defense and lets out a loud cry as the edge of the sword digs deep into her forearm. Claws out, the banshee lashes out and wrenches the blade out of Blanchefleur’s hands.

  I watch the sword twirl in the air, then land, hilt first, in the tall grasses, where its light slowly goes out.

  I hear Blanchefleur gasp as one of the banshee’s blows lands and she falls.

  Using the sound as guidance, I rush forward to stop the banshee from killing the young Fey. The creature shoves me out of the way, and I fall to the ground, jarring my arms and knees.

  Percy’s own orbs of fire flicker in and out of existence as he dodges and attacks the creature consecutively.

  “Get back to school, Morgan,” Percy says as he pulls out a pair of twin daggers.

  His weapons gleam red as he hurls himself toward the banshee. Holding one blade at an angle before him, he thrusts with the other, hitting her in the shoulder. But the dark Fey spins away, then pounces on him, her claws raking the air before his face.

  Desperate to save him, I crawl about the ground. My fingers close against something long and cold to the touch— Blanchefleur’s sword. I raise the weapon before me, and it flares out in a brilliant white light, blinding me momentarily.

  “What’re ya doin’?” Percy yells at me as he slowly forces the banshee back.

  I crack my eyes open and see the dark creature evade another knife sweep, then run straight at me. I yelp and duck under the long, bloody talons.

  I feel my blade connect, and tighten my grip around the handle for fear of losing the weapon. With a snarl, the banshee rounds on me again.

  I rai
se the sword back up in time to counter the creature, and stumble backward under the force of the blow.

  “Morgan!” Percy shouts.

  I make the mistake of looking at him. There’s a heavy pain in my shoulder. My feet lose their grip on the ground. I see the blade’s light pierce through the banshee’s hood to reflect in a pair of dull white eyes, then we’re both propelled away from each other, and I ram into the solid earth, the air leaving my lungs all at once.

  I hear padded footsteps then a grunting form appears above me. For a second, it looks like my life is over. The banshee leans toward me, blasting me with the putrid stench of rotting fish.

  “Master will be pleased with me,” she croaks.

  Master? I shake my head to get the ringing out of my ears, but only manage to make myself dizzier.

  I watch the banshee reach for me, when a large ball of green explodes against her, throwing the creature into the air. I hear a muffled cracking of bones as she lands in the dried grass.

  “I told ya to go back!” Percy yells.

  “Couldn’t…leave you…alone,” I gasp.

  He pulls me to my feet. “You OK?” he asks, making one of the red orbs fly toward my face so he can examine me.

  “I think so,” I say with a shaky breath. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Percy says.

  A screech rends the air, and Percy drops down to a low crouch just as a large black shape barrels into him. He lands, sprawling in the tall grass, rolls onto his back, then flips himself upright again.

  “Percy!” I shriek.

  I try to go to him, but falter as the world around me tips. I blink in the darkness. I think I see the banshee’s misshapen form scurry toward me. I raise my hands up, but the sword’s gone. I look about my feet, searching for the weapon.

  Someone pushes me roughly to the side.

  “Dagaz,” Percy mutters as the banshee reaches him.

  There’s a loud bang, and the sky is streaked with the white flash of lightning, followed by an agonizing shriek.

  “Stupid human,” Blanchefleur says, pulling me away from the growing smell of burning flesh.

  Mouth agape, I watch the scene unfold before me, Percy and the banshee wrapped in incandescent fire before the light goes out. I remember Arthur’s warning, how Dagaz’s use is like committing suicide.

  There’s a rustling of clothes and metal, the sound of a body falling to the ground, then nothing.

  “Percy?” I call out, my voice cracking.

  I crawl toward the spot where I last saw him. Blanchefleur rushes around me, her sword once again in her hands.

  “Is he…” I can’t bring myself to say it.

  Blanchefleur pokes a body with her feet until it rolls away. “Stupid human,” she repeats. “Of course lightning would be drawn to him, what with all that metal he’s carrying.”

  My breath rushes out of me, and my throat constricts. “Percy?”

  “He’s still breathing,” Blanchefleur says, scornful, “though gravely injured.” She gets up in one graceful move and scans the area. I hear her swear.

  “What is it?” I ask, taking Percy’s pulse, then feeling his burning face.

  “We lost her,” she says.

  “The banshee? Why was she after you?”

  “I was after her,” Blanchefleur snarls. “She killed my sister; she has to pay for it.”

  Coming to stand beside us, she holds her sword up so its light can shine onto Percy’s injured body.

  His clothes have partly burnt away, showing pale skin beneath.

  I draw in a sharp breath—covering most of his torso is a bright red Lichtenburg figure. The lightning-shaped burn goes from his shoulder all the way down his back, branching out over and over again like a leafless tree. My heart skips a beat as I realize that Percy really could have died, and all because of me.

  “I need to go get help,” I say.

  “You’re not going to find any,” Blanchefleur says. She sheathes her sword, throwing us back into the decreasing darkness.

  “The school can’t be far. There are healers there who ca—”

  “It’s too late for that now,” Blanchefleur says.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The Fey’s blue eyes look straight into mine, reflecting the pale dawn. “It means your school’s probably already under attack by now.”

  As if to corroborate her words, I hear the faint but distinctive sound of the tocsin33 ringing in the distance. I rock onto my feet.

  “What?”

  “Fomori invasion,” she says, pointing up.

  I look at the sky-lake. Streaks of light pink are bleeding into the midnight blue and, with them, strange dark clouds, the first I’ve ever seen down here. As I peer more intently at the odd-moving patterns, I realize that those aren’t clouds, but four-limbed creatures descending from the lake, crawling along the barrier that separates the lower world from the surface.

  “But I thought Fey weren’t allowed to step into our school unless invited or…”

  “Or enslaved?” Blanchefleur finishes for me. She shrugs. “The barrier’s been breached. And on that note, I’ve got to go.”

  With dread, I realize that all those black spots are converging toward the school.

  I look back down at Percy. His ordinarily smiling features are now distorted with pain, though he barely lets out a sound. Remorse gnaws at my insides; I can’t leave him like this.

  “Wait!” I call after her before she disappears. “We can’t let him die!”

  Blanchefleur grimaces at Percy.

  “Please!” I beg her. “He saved our lives.”

  After another moment’s hesitation, she lets out a deep sigh. “Help me take off his armor,” she says, “and I’ll take care of him.”

  “You will?” I ask.

  “I wouldn’t say so if it weren’t true,” she retorts, flashing me a look of contempt.

  Right, the whole Fey-can’t-lie thing. I grab both her hands in mine. “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

  Blanchefleur pulls away, wincing. “Just get it clear in your little head. I’m not doing this for you. As you said, I owe him a favor, and so I shall repay it before it’s too late.”

  “Right, right,” I say as I hurry to take Percy’s armor off—not an easy task considering all the knots and how some of the metallic plates have melded together.

  “Are you sure you want to go there?” Blanchefleur asks as I pull the vambraces off Percy. “It might not be wise, especially for you, since the reaping’s nearly done.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, taking Percy’s steel-toed boots off. “Do his pants have to go too?”

  Blanchefleur leans over me, then points at his torso. “Just that, and it should be fine,” she says.

  I place Percy’s shirt on top of the growing pile of iron items. “There, all done,” I say, dusting myself off. “Don’t forget your promise.”

  “A word given cannot be taken,” Blanchefleur says, carefully kneeling down next to Percy’s unconscious body.

  I watch her closely as she places his head onto her lap.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, noticing for the first time the gashes in her shoulder.

  “You better hurry if you hope to still find your school in one piece,” she tells me without looking up.

  I don’t have to be told twice. My feet pound the ground as I run full speed across the fields, following the trail of Fomori crawling on the sky-dome above me.

  “Dear God,” I pray under my breath, “please let them be OK!”

  Fighting a stitch in my side, I reach the large standing stone that’s a mile west of the landing area. As I near it, I realize the boulder’s cracked in two, as if it’s been struck by a giant hammer. I crest the hill, arriving by the first longboat, and suck in my breath. From here, the breach in the barrier is obvious; it’s like an angel’s punched a hole through the sky, and now hundreds of creatures are dropping through it to land on the school belo
w.

  Using the boats for cover, I hurry toward the front of the wharf, coughing on the smoke billowing up from the burning keels. Beyond the flames awaits a nightmarish vision of chaos.

  I see Laura and Diana run up the hill toward me, pursued by a Fomori—the Fey’s even uglier in reality than in the book illustrations, and, for once, I wish I’d been wrong and that they were extinct.

  Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m sprinting down to their aid. The creature’s long limbs quickly catch up to the two terrified girls. It smiles at them, showing two rows of jagged teeth in its brown-green face, its eyes glowing with a white-blue, feverish light.

  I slide down the remaining few feet and tackle the Fomori to the ground.

  “Run!” I yell to my classmates.

  I don’t have time to watch them escape as the creature bounds my way. Its webbed hands whip down toward me, thin spikes out. Rolling away, I see its sharp claws dig into the earth where I’d been standing.

  I use that moment to kick the Fomori in the face, hearing its jaw crunch under my boot heel. Without waiting for it to retaliate, I scramble away and into the thick of the battle.

  I skid to a stop before a group of knights fighting off a couple more Fomori, their sweaty faces lighting up with the various elementals they’re calling.

  I dive behind a tree. What am I doing here? I don’t know how to fight, I don’t have a single EM to control, and I still have no weapon.

  “I should’ve borrowed Blanchefleur’s sword,” I mutter as an explosion shakes the ground, so loud it momentarily overcomes the sound of the tocsin. My ears ringing, I see more and more Fomori arrive—too many for us to fight, too many for us to survive.

  “Please, dear God, have mercy on us,” I pray out loud.

  One of the Fomori falls down on the gravel path between me and the school, writhing beneath an iron net. But the other Fey march past him, oblivious to their comrade’s pain.

  “Don’t try to capture them!” a knight yells. His dark hair looks familiar. He whirls around to stab a Fomori in the guts, and I recognize Hadrian, Bri’s older brother. He pulls out his sword, wet with dark blood, and helps a girl up. “Remember to aim for their vitals!”