Morgana Trilogy Complete Series

by Alessa Ellefson

  “Come on,” Percy says, chivying me away. “Let’s get yer friend back and give ’er the news.”

  Casting a backward glance at Myrdwinn, I run into the muddy fields, struggling to crest the hill without slipping. But over here, we can see someone’s small footsteps have preceded ours.

  “Bri!” I yell again, stumbling in the mulch. “Wait up!”

  Bri finally hears me, for I soon see her plod back to us.

  “Did you find him?” she asks, her uniform soiled from slipping in the mud herself.

  Now that I’ve found her, I can’t bear to tell her the truth. I watch a flock of crows take flight from the distant treetops. For a moment, I wish I were one of them, free to roam about the earth with no worries beyond finding food and shelter.

  “Well, where is he?” Bri asks.

  “We did. Find him, that is,” I say. This is so not a great start. “But…he’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Bri repeats. “You mean he escaped again?”

  I shake my head. Why is she making this harder on me? “I mean he’s gone gone,” I say, “as in…” I clear my throat and kick a tuft of dirt aside.

  “I don’t understand,” Bri says, looking back and forth between Percy and me. “Did he leave school? Did my parents come pick him up?”

  “No,” I say.

  “He sat in the Siege Perilous,” Percy says, coming to my rescue.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Bri sinks to the ground.

  “No,” she whispers, as if denying it is going to make everything OK again. “No, it’s not possible. You must be wrong.”

  “I saw it myself,” I say, trying real hard to keep my eyes dry. “He’d gone crazy!” I want to kick myself at the use of the word, but keep going, “I saw him when I came out from the doctor’s, and I kept calling and calling him, but it was like he couldn’t hear me. So I followed him, and we ended up in the KORT room.

  “At first, I thought he’d just gotten confused. That maybe he was looking for someone, you know? And I…I looked away for a split second. And when I looked back, he’d sat down on that cursed chair. I tried, I really did, but there was nothing I could do!”

  Bri remains motionless for so long I wonder if she’s fainted with her eyes open. Finally, I hear her tiny voice.

  “You’re sure about this?” she asks.

  “Quite sure.”

  Despite the open air, I feel like I’m suffocating. Yet I can’t even imagine what Bri must be feeling like now, when her own twin is gone and there’s no more hope of him ever coming back to her.

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do for y—”

  Bri slaps my hand away. “Don’t,” she says. “I don’t need your pity. I just…I just want to be alone for now.”

  “OK. OK, I can do that. But…are you sure you don’t want someone with you? I could go find Hadrian if you want.”

  “I said leave!” she shouts.

  I shrink back, then turn away and head for the docking area. There’s nothing more left for me to do here before my exile, nobody else my presence can bring bad luck to.

  Silent as a shadow, Percy trails after me. I repress a shiver. If I do bring disaster everywhere I go, maybe it’s not such a good idea for Percy to come along. But I hold my tongue, knowing that no matter what I say now, nobody’s going to listen to me.

  ◆◆◆

  Back on the surface, the world is as dreary as I feel. Winter hasn’t officially started, yet the lake’s surface is already patched over with ice, forcing Percy to use a salamander to break through.

  To my surprise, Dean is waiting for us at his usual spot, his tall, lanky frame dark against the night sky.

  “How did you know we were coming?” I ask, my teeth chattering.

  “Arthur sent your parents a message,” Percy says as Dean hands me a warm coat.

  “So quickly? How?”

  “It’s called scrying,” Percy says. “Just need a flat reflective surface, and ya can use it to see what’s happenin’ elsewhere. Ya can also communicate that way. Real practical when we can’t use regular tech, like down there.”

  We head for the car, which has been left running on the side of the old cemetery. Inside, Percy sinks deep into the leather seat.

  “You’re coming too?” I ask, pushing him farther into the car so I can climb in.

  “Sure thang,” he says, eyes closed. “Gotta make sure the miss is safe and all.”

  I feel my blood boil and dig my fingers into the seat. “This is ridiculous,” I say. “I don’t need someone to watch over me twenty-four seven. It’s not like I’m going to do anything.”

  My protest goes unheard, however, as I soon notice Percy’s deep and steady breathing. I let out a grunt, and the rest of the drive back to Fond du Lac is done in absolute silence, except for the occasional muttering from Percy in his sleep.

  When the car pulls into our driveway, the door to the mansion opens to let Irene out.

  “Thanks for coming along,” she tells Percy, looking tense. “And you can tell my son we’ll be coming in later.”

  Percy gives her a sharp nod, but before heading off again, he pulls me aside.

  “Arthur had a message for ya,” he says low in my ear. “Don’t trust anyone.”

  “Yeah, great, thanks,” I say with a derisive snort for this sudden brotherly concern.

  Percy shakes my elbow. “He means it, Morgan. Ya can’t follow no one till he comes back ’ere for ya. Ya hear?”

  “I hear,” I say.

  With a small bow, Percy leaves me behind with my mother and Dean. Irene ushers us inside before closing the door and setting the lock.

  “Luther’s asked to see you,” Irene tells the tall lawyer. “He’s in the office, going over the maps.”

  Apprehensive, I watch Dean disappear into the depths of the house—there goes my last line of defense against my mother.

  A strained smile on my face, I make a small curtsy. “Good evening, Irene,” I say, inching toward the stairs. “Lovely weather, isn’t it? Well, I’m knackered, so I think I’m going to go to—”

  “I’m so glad you’re safe!”

  The declaration is so unlike her that I wonder if perhaps I’ve misheard. She must’ve said she was mad I was safe. Yeah, that would be more in character. But the worried look on her face seems to contradict my reaction.

  “Uh, me too?” I say, ill at ease. Surely something nasty must’ve happened since yesterday, like a massive blow to the head. Either that or it’s some kind of devious ploy to get me off guard.

  Irene grabs both my hands in hers. “We were so worried,” she says. “We heard everything that…What’s wrong with your hands?”

  I wipe my hands on my skirt self-consciously, though I know the strange stains won’t come off.

  “It’s from when my friend sat on the Siege Perilous,” I say. “All this black stuff came out…It must’ve somehow stained me while I was trying to take it off him.”

  Irene pounces on me at those words, pulling my collar down to uncover my neck and shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, backing away.

  Sighing with obvious relief, she lets me go. “Nothing’s changed.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask. “Were you afraid I’d turned into some kind of alien?”

  Her sudden cold look disconcerts me, though I should’ve expected it. I knew it had been a trick, as if God would actually give her a soul overnight!

  “You look tired,” she says, strutting away. “You should go to your room. I’ll have Ella bring you dinner.”

  I take her suggestion for what it is—an order. Once in my room, however, I can’t keep still. I find myself pacing about, tossing one wild idea after another as I try to decipher her cryptic words.

  There’s a small knock at the door, and Ella walks in, carrying a tray laden with warm food and dessert.

  “Thank you,” I say, not feeling hungry at all, which is a definite sign that something’s bo
thering me.

  The tiny woman’s form starts to take that translucent sheen she takes when she’s about to disappear.

  “Wait,” I say. “Can I ask you something?”

  She turns to me, her clear eyes blank.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. “What is it that they’re not telling me?”

  I wonder for a brief moment if I haven’t just made a mistake confiding in her, but I quickly brush the thought aside—who else is better informed of the goings on of a family than a quiet, unobtrusive servant? I take a long drag of my tea to hide my nervousness.

  “You should be careful, mistress,” Ella says timidly.

  “They’re going after you.”

  I nearly choke on my drink. “What? Who’s going after me? Students? Are they mad?”

  Ella draws back from me, looking like she wants to turn into a dust mite.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I say, forcing myself not to scream. “Just tell me who’s going after me, and why. Is it my parents? Fey people? Jennifer?”

  But Ella’s lips remain resolutely shut, and she disappears from view, evading any further questioning.

  “Ella!” I call out after her, but I’m now well and truly alone, and I know that, even if I spent the whole night looking, I won’t be able to find her if she chooses not to be seen.

  Frustrated, I slam my cup back down on the table, sloshing tea on my hand. Who says stuff like that and then doesn’t provide an explanation?

  I resume my frantic pacing, stopping occasionally to chomp down on a piece of lettuce.

  You could just look for the answer yourself.

  I pause at the unbidden words. Where would I look for something like that when I can’t even leave this madhouse?

  Who said you had to leave this place?

  Once again, my guardian angel is the voice of reason. With my parents as Board members, surely I can figure something out. I crack my door open and peer outside. The lamplit hallway is deserted, much to my relief. I tiptoe down the carpeted corridor, halting for the briefest moment before Arthur’s empty bedroom, then creep down the stairs.

  “The incidents seem to be concentrated mainly around Georgia, Colorado, and Ontario…” I hear Luther say from his office.

  Holding my breath, I inch toward the door. My parents must have forgotten I’m here to be talking so loud.

  I put my eye to the keyhole, through which I can barely make out a part of the wall-length mirror. In it, three reflections can be seen, crouched over a table.

  “But if you look carefully,” Luther says, sweeping his hand over a map, “they seem to be converging.”

  “To Avalon,” Irene says in one breath. “You know what that means.”

  “Honey, you can’t assume they’re behind all of this,” Luther says in a tone that suggests they’ve had this discussion many times before. “We can’t afford to start a war we’re not ready to fight.”

  “Are you saying you don’t believe they can do it?” Irene retorts.

  “We need solid proof,” Luther says. “If we attack them directly, on their own territory nonetheless, it could spell trouble for all of us.”

  “Maybe if we got our prisoner talking,” Irene says, getting more agitated, “we would get our proof.” She bounces away from the table, too flustered to remain in one spot.

  “I should never have listened to Myrdwinn,” she says, even louder than before. “If we’d gotten rid of her when we had a chance, we wouldn’t be in this predicament!”

  “He had his reasons,” Luther says.

  “Which he never explained to us,” Irene retorts, “and that is deeply suspicious. He is losing his head, after all. This was all a mistake. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her! And look at all the crap we have to deal with now!”

  Goose bumps ripple down my arms as I realize she’s talking about me. The hallway seems to tilt dangerously for a moment. I must have made a noise, for I see Irene twirl toward me.

  I barely have the time to fling myself away from the office before the door opens and Irene’s small figure is outlined in the doorframe.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, catching me at the bottom of the stairs.

  This time, there is no disguised warmth in her voice, but an unsettling wariness and, I realize for the first time in my life, hatred. I can’t make myself answer.

  “You should be in bed,” she says, grabbing my arm so tightly it hurts.

  She frog-marches me back to my room, her grip extraordinarily strong for a midget of a woman. She shoves me inside, and I slam into the bed.

  “I will not tolerate any eavesdropping in my own house,” she says. “You are to stay here until further notice. For your own good, of course.”

  She shuts the door firmly behind her, and the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock reaches me. Locked up by my own mother, a mother who wishes I were dead instead.

  Bruised up, I curl up on my bed, comforting myself that tomorrow I’ll find a way to get out of this jail and never come back.

  Chapter 30

  I hate being locked up. I hate it, hate it, hate it. I accentuate that last thought with a kick to the door and am rewarded with a sharp pain in the toe. Hobbling, I make my way back to the bed and sink into it.

  You’re always complaining, my guardian angel retorts. At least you’re in a nice warm place, getting fed as much as you want.

  “Stuff it,” I mutter into my pillow. “Like you’re having such a hard time. Besides, you’re the reason I’m in this mess.”

  Don’t blame me for your situation. I merely make suggestions. It’s up to you to follow them or not.

  “And I did, and now I regret it,” I say, flopping over onto my other side. Never has a soft bed been this uncomfortable.

  Finally, as I’ve found myself doing for the past week I’ve been stuck in here, I walk up to my desk and press the set of runes carved into the wall above it. A second later, Ella appears.

  “Yes, mistress?”

  “Sit down, Ella,” I say, pulling the chair out for her.

  The tiny elf looks at me warily, then shakes her head. I sigh and drop into the seat instead, holding my head in my hands.

  “Can you tell me…” I start. What is it I want to know? Where Arthur is, for one. I thought that we’d finally come to see eye to eye after Avalon. But he’s cast me aside like a broken doll and hasn’t even bothered to come see me. Secondly, I’d like to know how close those dunces are to catching the murderer. And thirdly, if I’m ever going to get out of here again.

  “Have you seen Arthur?” I ask before she can dematerialize. “Is the school in lockdown? Has something else happened?”

  With every question, Ella grows paler.

  “There’s nothing you can tell me?” I exclaim, frustrated. “No news, no nothing?”

  Ella keeps staring at me with her big brown eyes flecked with gold.

  “Have you been told not to say anything to me?” I finally ask, exasperated. “Am I truly a prisoner here that I can’t even be told the smallest thing?”

  I spring off my chair and start pacing, wearing the rug thin. Why did she ever bother to give me a warning if now she won’t even say a thing?

  I come to a stop before the trembling Fey. “I don’t suppose that, even if I promise not to say a word, you’ll tell me?” I ask.

  Ella keeps her mouth resolutely shut. I sigh and rub my forehead.

  “OK. Then how about giving Arthur a message?” I ask. “Would that be possible?”

  Biting on her lower lip, Ella looks down. I’m afraid she’s going to refuse again, when she gives me a small but decisive nod.

  “You can do that?” I ask, suddenly doubtful. “I mean, you can leave this place?”

  Ella swallows audibly. “Sir Percy is outside the gates.”

  “How come he can’t even bother to come see me then?” I mutter to myself as I sit down to write. The note, addressed to Arthur, is short and sweet:

  Get me out of here, or I swear
I’ll leave this hellhole in twenty-four hours and skin you alive.

  Your sister,

  Morgan

  I hand Ella the note, but, as she takes the slip of paper in her trembling hands, I pause.

  “Just, could you come see me after?” I ask. “I’d like to know what Percy said. And, thank you.”

  With a small curtsy, Ella disappears, and I’m left alone to sink further into insanity in the meantime.

  A few moments later, there’s a small knock, and I look at the door. “Ella, is that you? Are you already back?”

  But the small tap comes back again, from the window. Outside, a pair of golden eyes is staring straight at me.

  “You again!” I exclaim, crossing my room to open the window.

  In walks a black cat. I’m not sure if it’s Lugh’s cat or not, but he’s been visiting me every day since I’ve been held captive here. He shakes the snow off his fur, then proceeds to clean himself. I close the window again, noting the dark clouds hovering over Lake Winnebago.

  The cat meows, then rubs himself on my arm, purring loudly. With a sigh, I pat his tiny head.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know what everyone else is doing, would you?” I ask him. “Like why I haven’t seen anyone around here?”

  The cat just stares at me, as if I’m already supposed to know the answer.

  “Yeah, didn’t think you did,” I say, looking away.

  The cat drops down to the carpet, then follows on my heels as I resume my nervous walk around the room. How long should I expect to wait to hear from Arthur? An hour? A day? Two? No—I said twenty-four hours, and I meant it.

  “Ouch!”

  I glare down at the cat, who’s just scratched my ankles. He looks up at me, all big-eyed innocence.

  “What is it?” I growl.

  I roll my eyes as he meows sweetly, begging for food. I go over to the desk and press the runes set in the wall again.

  This time, it takes longer for Ella to appear, and when she does, I let out a strangled cry.

  “What happened to you?” I ask, running to the small Fey who’s sporting bruises all over her face and exposed arms.