Instrument of Peace (Symphony of the Cursed Book 1)

by Rebecca Hall

  What the Hell were they doing? They were allowed to practice magic on their own, largely because their teachers couldn’t stop them, but they weren’t allowed to be this careless. He forgot about changing and started towards the lake, intending to give whoever it was a piece of his mind or maybe just dob them in to one of the teachers. He used his own magic to protect himself from the schizophrenic wind; it couldn’t decide if it was supposed to be hot or cold or even which direction it was coming from and with the constant rain of gravel it was picking up it would leave him black and blue by the time he escaped. No doubt his classmates would laugh at him if they heard that he’d been beaten up by a little wind, particularly after he broke Richard’s nose.

  Not that Mitch would describe it as a little wind. It twisted and swirled about him, snatching the moisture from his skin one second and chilling him to the bone with needles of ice the next. The only constant was the gravel. He shoved his hands into his pockets for what protection they offered and used magic to repel anything that drew near his face.

  A part of him was impressed; he may not know what was going on at the lake yet but something like this would require a lot of effort. Perhaps it was the Taniwha’s means of attracting his attention, if it could use telepathy to communicate then there was no reason why it couldn’t use other forms of magic as well.

  He left the protection of the buildings behind and got his first clear view of the culprit: Angel Girl. Mitch frowned, looking for someone else, surely one person couldn’t cause this much chaos, but there was no one in sight. He tried sensing magic, he couldn’t be the only one who’d messed around with invisibility, but all he could feel was Angel Girl’s power, wildly out of control. He bowed his head against the wind and stepped off the path. Other lakes were surrounded by busy footpaths, well cared-for parks and gentle beaches, this one was surrounded by slippery grass, gravelly beaches and ballistic tree branches. Mitch didn’t remember there ever being so many stones underfoot but now they bit through his shoes with every step, twisting underfoot and trying to throw him to the ground. One of these days he was going to get himself steel-capped boots and the universe would be forced to leave his poor feet alone.

  He reached the lake shore and risked raising his head. His goal was to make Hayley come back to her damned senses, not walk into the lake. He needed to use more magic to peer through the water-laden wind, silently grateful for the torturous magic lessons he’d had to endure. There was nothing quite like immersing yourself in acid to prepare you for situations that were completely out of control.

  He swallowed; as much as he hated some of his magic lessons, particularly the ones featuring oversized insects, he knew that their teachers wouldn’t let them be seriously hurt. Hayley probably wouldn’t even notice if she killed him. It’s just wind, he reminded himself, it can’t hurt you.

  He made his way across the beach, the sodden sand squelching beneath his feet. He’d barely registered that the sand shouldn’t have been this wet in anything less than a torrential downpour when the lake surged up and slammed into him. He was bowled off his feet and the receding waters did their best to drag him back into what was supposed to be a placid lake. Mitch coughed up a mouthful of water and forced himself to his feet, keeping a careful eye on the lake in case it continued to impersonate the ocean. Stupid lake. He brushed slopping wet hair out of his face, resolving to get it cut at the next opportunity, and coughed up a little more water. He was used to getting smashed by the waves but it was usually at a proper beach with a surfboard and sunlight, not an upstart lake at sunset.

  Seething was no longer an accurate description of the lake. Seething implied a certain level of calm and restraint. Seething did not involve dozens of whirlpools spinning in opposing directions and rogue waves that rose out of nowhere and crashed for no reason other than to drag him into the lake. The waves were omnidirectional with many of them crashing in the middle of the lake, the spray picked up by the frenetic winds and dumped on his head or twisted into waterspouts which shattered when struck by a more powerful breeze. He almost felt sorry for the Taniwha and hoped that the water was calmer in whatever corner of the lake it was hiding in. It was far more sensible than him, but he’d had enough of Angel Girl, enough of her ignoring everyone and everything, enough of her making Nikola sick and enough of her leaving him to comfort Belle.

  Another wave slammed into him, this one alternating between ice and scalding steam. Miss Sindri’s lesson on the lake was beginning to seem like a nice refreshing swim. He struggled to stay on his feet as another wave tore at the beach beneath him, going for a swim now would not be fun, he wasn’t even sure it would be survivable no matter what magic he used. He considered turning back but he was closer to Angel Girl than he was to any kind of safety.

  Angel Girl herself was unmolested by the maelstrom she’d created, exhibiting a level of control that Mitch had thought beyond her. The lake lapped at her feet. Her clothes were dry and whole rather than wet and ragged and her dark hair hung down her back instead of whipping and tangling in the wind.

  Mitch ducked to avoid being brained by a tree branch, silently praying that it didn’t whip around to take him by surprise. The part of him that wasn’t hopped up on adrenaline insisted that only someone completely loopy could be responsible for the conflicting currents of magic. The part of him that was feeling suicidal pointed out that loopy magicians were not known for their self-awareness and Hayley’s little bubble of calm required some level of rational thought.

  There was someone standing in front of her. The shock was enough to freeze him in his tracks. The wind was full of a slurry of dirt and semi-frozen water but the visibility wasn’t that bad. He sharpened his vision and the newcomer resolved himself into Lucifer. He’d lost the wings and robe, replacing them with jeans and a leather jacket and what looked suspiciously like steel-capped boots. He was standing on the water.

  Hayley shook her head, the wind snatching away whatever words she might have spoken. Mitch ground his teeth together and sharpened his hearing as Lucifer began to speak. Stupid name; he was going to have to find out what he was really called.

  He lurched forward another step. The wet sand sucked at his feet and the growing waves threw him off balance before attempting to drag him out into the churning lake. Soon they’d be too big to fight. If he had any sense he’d turn back while he still could. Apparently he didn’t, but he already knew that, sensible people didn’t run into collapsing buildings during earthquakes, not if they wanted to continue being people.

  He was bowled over by a wave of scalding water and ice, pushed up the beach before it tried to suck him back in. He rolled onto his hands and knees, choking up a lungful of water, his hand erratically burnt. He could feel other burns as well, the pain numbed slightly by his sodden clothing. He sneezed and climbed to his feet shivering. Despite its attempts to kill him the wave had actually been helpful. He was more or less behind Hayley now and that offered him a little shelter from the chaos.

  “...won’t be an instrument of war,” Hayley said her voice barely reaching his ears over the crashing of the waves.

  “You misunderstand, love,” Lucifer reached out and caressed her cheek, “it is not an instrument of war I need.”

  “I made my choice.” Hayley was shaking her head again but gently, as if she didn’t want to push away the creep’s hand. ‘The creep’ would do until Mitch could find out his actual name.

  “And now you get to choose again,” the creep said, his voice low and insistent, “you have known peace, you have known that which we have forgotten. Share it with us, become an instrument of peace or I will play out this whole sorry game again.”

  Hayley shook her head, her words snatched away by the wind.

  “You’ve exposed yourself, the Host will come for you, soon.”

  Hayley shook her head again, more violently this time and took a half step back. As soon as the physical contact broke the creep vanished and the magical storm seemed to redouble in fury.
>
  A tree branch slammed into the back of Mitch’s legs and his knees buckled. A fresh wave caught him and Mitch fought to keep from screaming as he was engulfed in boiling water. He flailed madly, too panicked to try and push himself to his feet, and his hand caught Hayley’s leg. He should have pulled her under as well, they both should have been swept away by the scalding water, instead she stood firm amidst the chaos.

  Mitch clawed himself up her body, desperate to get himself out of the water and back onto his feet, not caring that he looked like some sort of demented windsock. She didn’t notice him clinging to her. She didn’t notice him choking and gasping for breath. She did notice when he finally regained his balance enough to loosen his death grip and slap her; he was really beginning to hate her white-eyed stare.

  He didn’t have a lot of practice at hitting people but he was certain there was supposed to be some give. Skin was soft wasn’t it? It felt as if he was striking granite, which was not a good idea with a burnt hand. Tears filled his eyes and he shuddered as the salt water seeped into the burns covering his face.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he roared, fighting to be heard over the wind, “Are you trying to get us killed?”

  She shook her head and he resisted the temptation to slap her again. He would never understand how Belle could be friends with the girl.

  “Really?” Mitch spat, “Because it sure as Hell looks like you are.”

  “I...I’m sorry,” she said the faintest hints of blue appearing in the depths of her eyes. It was getting harder not to slap her again. She was sorry, how was that anywhere near good enough? Sorry wouldn’t fix anything.

  “Then do something,” he yelled, his voice ringing in his ears. The wind was beginning to fade. “Talk to Belle, act like a normal human being instead of one of Mindy’s fucking zombie puppets.”

  She nodded. The last of the wind died, the lake returned to its usual smooth, placid state. Her eyes were pale blue once more, if it weren’t for the debris everywhere he could have believed that none of this had happened.

  “Mitchell?”

  He staggered away before she could touch him. It hurt to move.

  “I’ll get help.” Mitch watched her leave. There was a naturalness to her movements that had been missing before, her knees bending as she walked, a subtle sense that she was once again subjecting herself to the laws of physics and biology.

  Spring came back, the freezing wind replaced by a warm breeze that made the otherwise flawless reflection of the night sky ripple. Mitch coughed, he thought he’d choked up the water in his lungs but his throat still felt raw and scratchy. He was supposed to be somewhere. He checked his watch but the face had cracked, making it impossible to tell the time. The library. He was supposed to meet Bates.

  It hurt to move but once he started the thought of stopping became unbearable. Bates would be angry if he was late. It would probably spell the end of their faltering attempts at friendship. He slipped and slid across the wet grass but managed to stay upright until he reached the footpath. He paused, gasping for breath, and leaned against the wall, staggering away as agony shot up his back. He kept walking.

  “Mitch? Hey Mitch, what happened? Are you ok? Who did this to you?” Bates was standing in front of him. “It wasn’t Nikola was it? Don’t you dare lie to protect him.” A hand closed over his shoulder and the pain was almost instantly replaced by darkness.

  #

  “Patience Nikola, you can wait a little longer and let him wake on his own.”

  Mitch didn’t know that voice but it sounded warm and affectionate, neither of which he typically associated with people conversing with Nikola. There was no one else called Nikola in the Academy either. Was he still in the Academy?

  “Yes, Gawain,” Nikola replied. He sounded resigned but there was something else there as well, a note that might have been whining. Nikola never whined. “Stop it,” Nikola laughed. Mitch opened his eyes. He lay in one of the infirmary’s private rooms. Nikola and the stranger stood by his bed, the stranger trying to ruffle Nikola’s golden curls while Nikola ducked away.

  “Mitchell,” Nikola saw his open eyes and stood up straight, reordering his hair with one hand and reminding Mitch that he meant to get his cut. The stranger settled a hand on Nikola’s shoulder and Nikola leaned into his side. He was smiling and happy and there was no indication that he’d had the flu last time Mitch had seen him. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious for. Maybe he’d missed exams.

  “This is Gawain,” Nikola said, “I asked him to come heal you.” He probably hadn’t missed exams then. Mitch looked up, Gawain was taller than Nikola, lithe and slender with none of the unhealthy thinness that Nikola possessed, and full of inhuman beauty. Pale blond hair hung down his back and framed grey cat-like eyes. Sidhe. Mitch swallowed and tried to press himself back into the bed, bracing himself for an explosion of agony. It didn’t come.

  “Relax Mitchell,” Nikola said, “the Fae don’t make contracts with minors.”

  “You–” Mitch coughed and tried to work a little moisture into his mouth. Nikola passed him a cup. It had a straw. Mitch took it, expecting his hands to be wrapped in bandages and marred by burns and saw only pale unmarked skin. “You said that you were in debt to the Fae.”

  “Gawain saved my life,” Nikola said, blinking at him.

  Gawain sighed, “Nikola has no formal obligation to us.” He tugged one of Nikola’s curls and Nikola shook his head though he stayed pressed to Gawain’s side. For half a second Mitch wondered if they were related before remembering that they couldn’t be. Nikola wouldn’t be allowed to attend the Academy if he possessed Faerie blood. Nikola raised a hand to cover a yawn and Gawain sighed again.

  “Back to bed Nikola, I may have healed you but your body still needs to rest.”

  “But–”

  “You don’t want to fall ill again before your exams do you?”

  “No,” Nikola bowed his head.

  “I’ll get you a present if you do well,” Gawain promised, tugging on his hair again.

  “What?” Nikola asked, his head snapping up. His grey eyes were shining and Mitch had never heard him sound so excited. He certainly wouldn’t have been that excited if his parents promised him a present for doing well. Mum would force him to dress up and drag him out to a fancy dinner while Dad would just give him some cash, but Nikola had said that the Teratos spoilt him.

  “A Sumerian scroll.”

  “Really? You found someone to teach me Sumerian?”

  “Only if you get some rest and do well in your exams.”

  Nikola nodded, “Come say goodbye before you leave?”

  “Of course, I just need to talk to your friend first.” He gave Nikola a quick hug and Nikola practically bounced out of the door.

  “I thought healing was bad for him,” Mitch said. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to talk to one of the Sidhe, no matter how much Nikola seemed to like him, particularly not about himself.

  Gawain shrugged, “It is, but so is being miserable all the time and I like to see him smile.”

  “Yeah, thank you,” Mitch said, sitting up carefully. All of his burns had been healed but he still felt a little fragile.

  “For him or for you?” Gawain asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Both,” Mitch barely managed to get the word out before yawning.

  Gawain smiled, “You’ll need to rest as well. I healed the physical damage not the mental strain.” He glanced towards the closed door, “Don’t hurt him,” he said lowering his voice. “If you’re everything Nikola thinks you are then you’ll have already realised how easy it would be to take advantage of him. Don’t.”

  Mitch gulped, “I won’t,” he said, “I would never.”

  “Good, Nikola would be terribly upset if I had to kill you,” Gawain sighed. Mitch got the impression he did that a lot where Nikola was concerned. “He’d probably forgive me for it too, Nikola can be dreadfully understanding at times.”

  “That�
��s it? No threats of torture or unimaginable agony?” Mitch asked before snapping his mouth shut. Maybe he should ask if his mouth was properly connected to his brain.

  “No, I heard about what happened to you at the Dance. That creature has been dealt with,” no doubt with lots of torture and unimaginable agony, “and I try to avoid upsetting Nikola unnecessarily.”

  Mitch yawned again, it was hard to be properly terrified of death threats, or the forthcoming exams, when he could barely keep his eyes open.

  “Sleep,” Gawain advised, “and stay away from any open flames, you’ll never be a pyromancer.” Mitch shuddered, pyromancy had always looked cool but after burning most of his body he didn’t want to know how severely, it wasn’t something he ever wanted to specialise in.

  #

  “You can go back to class today,” the doctor said.

  “I can?” He’d only spent two nights in the infirmary and even though his skin was perfect and unbroken he still imagined that he could feel the burning pain, especially when he was bored. The infirmary wasn’t terribly exciting but Mitch was coming to the conclusion that terrible excitement was overrated.

  “Your injuries weren’t quite as bad as they first appeared,” the doctor said, “they were extensive but your magic protected you from the worst of the damage. Gawain was impressed, and slightly annoyed I believe, if he healed you too quickly you would have given yourself hypothermia.”

  “Oh,” Mitch scratched his head, his hand tangling in his hair, it had never occurred to him that he might make himself sick with his magic. “And I really don’t owe the Fae anything?”

  “No,” the doctor sighed, “officially this never happened, your records show that you were treated for shock after a magical accident and Gawain was never here at all.”

  Mitch nodded remembering the ward room; Swiss cheese room would be a more accurate name.

  “Hayley?” he asked.

  “No doubt you’ll see her in class, I suggest you eat breakfast and get dressed quickly, you should still have enough time to gather your books before class.”