Spirit of the Fae

by Linsey Hall

  An emptiness spread inside me. Fear for Aethelred and something else. Like a piece of me was missing.

  I gasped, stumbling and clutching the wall at the top of the stairs.

  “Mari, are you okay?”

  “No.” I felt empty inside. “I feel ill. My magic…”

  I tried to call upon my seeker sense to find Aethelred, but got nothing. No matter how hard I tried, it stayed dormant inside me.

  What little magic I’d had left seemed to have disappeared.

  Tarron tried to rub my back, but his hand pressed right through. “I feel it, too. An effect of this place. We’ll fix it. I swear.”

  I nodded, shoving the panic down deep. We would fix this. I’d settle for no less.

  “What about the roof?” Tarron asked. “Aethelred could be there.”

  “Might as well.” Aethelred’s roof was steeply pitched like most of the houses in Darklane, but unless he was in the garbage bin out back—shit, I didn’t need my mind going there—it was the last place we could look.

  Tarron and I searched the upper floor for a rooftop access. The whole place was cluttered with knickknacks and ancient furniture, but we finally found what we were looking for in the back-right corner of the house. A narrow set of stairs wound their way up to a hatch.

  I raced up the stairs and pushed on the hatch, then scrambled through, feeling the eerie wind whistle through my hair.

  There—sitting in a lawn chair in the middle of a flattened portion of the roof—was Aethelred. I could only see him from behind, but his velour tracksuit and his long white hair were a dead giveaway.

  “Aethelred!” I hurried forward, and he turned.

  His eyes widened in his heavily lined face. “Mordaca!”

  I dropped to my knees by his chair, trying to grab his arm. My hand passed right through. “Are you all right? Are you dead?”

  He didn’t look quite dead. He was partially white like we were, but there were flashes of color—blue for his tracksuit and eyes.

  He frowned at me, bushy white eyebrows drawing together. “No. But you don’t look well.”

  “I think I’m partially dead.”

  He nodded, his mouth pursed. “You’re slightly transparent. This is definitely not normal.”

  “We’re in an afterworld.” My mind raced, recalling the details of the place. Winged reapers, rowan berries, stags, faerie lights. “I think it may be a Fae afterworld.”

  There were many afterworlds, each corresponding with the different religions and magical species. The Christians had their heaven, the Celts their Otherworld, just like the Fae had their own version.

  Aethelred shook his head. “No, we’re in Darklane.”

  I looked up at Tarron.

  He frowned, then said, “I wish you were right, but we’re definitely partially dead and stuck at some kind of waypoint. There are several Fae afterworlds. This is likely one of them.”

  “Everything is white, Aethelred. Even your house.” I tilted my head. “But you look mostly normal. There’s even color to your clothes and eyes.”

  “I feel normal.” He frowned. “And I am definitely in Darklane.”

  “Then we’re at some kind of weak spot in the barrier between realms.” It was the only explanation I could think of. Yet we couldn’t pass through, because we were still ghosty. I pressed my fingertips to my comms charms, hoping that it would flare to life so I could call Aeri.

  It didn’t work. I tried my ability to appear within her mind. I rarely used that magic, but of course it didn’t work either. Not with my luck. Shit.

  I looked at Aethelred. “Could you call my sister? Get her here?”

  He nodded, his brows drawn over his eyes, then dug an ancient flip phone out of his pocket. Quickly, he dialed a number, and I prayed that Aeri had her phone on her. That it was charged and hadn’t been destroyed in the battle against the false queen.

  That she hadn’t been destroyed in the battle.

  “Aeri?” Aethelred said. “Yes. You need to come to my house now. Immediately. Your sister is here.”

  I could hear the shriek on the other end of the line.

  Aethelred lowered the phone and closed it. “She will be here any—”

  His words were cut off by the appearance of my sister, who had clearly used a transport charm to reach us quickly.

  She was still wearing her white ghost suit—her preferred fighting attire—and it was streaked with splotches of blood. Red speckled her blond hair as well, and her blue eyes widened on me.

  “Mari!” She lunged for me and threw her arms around me.

  They passed right through, and she stumbled forward.

  “What the hell?” She staggered back, looking at me. Her brow furrowed, and worry flashed in her eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I think I’m kind of dead.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.” Her gaze flicked to Tarron, darkness in their depths. “I heard reports of you dying, but I couldn’t find your bodies.”

  “What’s happening in my Kingdom?” Tarron demanded. “Are they safe?”

  She nodded. “They are. The battle has just ended…not two minutes ago. It’s why I didn’t have time to find you. But the reports…”

  She shuddered, and I couldn’t blame her. I could only imagine how horrified I’d be if I’d gotten a report of her death. Whether or not I’d seen the body, the news alone would be enough to give me nightmares.

  “The false queen?” I asked.

  Aeri frowned. “False queen?”

  “My mother. Where is she?”

  “She left. Gravely injured, but not dead.” Her eyes turned dark. “She will rise again. There is no question.”

  I nodded. “Oh, she will. But how did she get injured? I didn’t see that.”

  “Neither did I,” Aeri said. “But what’s this about a false queen?”

  Aethelred leaned forward in his chair, as if he were watching his favorite soap opera.

  “Our plan to kill her with the enchanted dagger didn’t work,” I said. “Because it turns out that I am the true ruler of the Unseelie Fae.”

  Aeri’s jaw dropped. “I knew you were the heir, but the true ruler?”

  I nodded. “Apparently so. It’s more than just who wears the crown—it’s in the blood or something. The dagger was supposed to kill both Fae rulers in one fell swoop. And it did. Just not how we’d expected.”

  It had been our last resort. My mother had managed to release the Eternal Flame in Tarron’s realm, and the only way to douse it had been to kill one of the Fae rulers with the enchanted blade. As planned, the dagger had released all of Tarron’s magic in a blast that had blown out the flame. It had also been prophesied to kill the true ruler of the other Scottish Fae sect. According to legend, the two Fae rulers—Seelie and Unseelie—were connected. When one died by the enchanted blade, the other died as well.

  And I had.

  Only, we’d expected it to kill my mother.

  Concern flashed in Aeri’s eyes. “And that’s why you are sort of transparent. You’re…dead.”

  Her voice broke on the word.

  “Not quite,” I said. “When we woke in this afterworld, Brigid appeared. She told us that we can get out. We just need to find a way.”

  Aeri’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh, thank fates.”

  I looked at Aethelred. “Can you tell us how to get out?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. I can try to see the answers to your questions, but that is all.”

  “Where is the false queen now?” Tarron asked.

  At the same time, I asked, “How do we get the hell out of here?”

  Aethelred raised his hands. “Slow down now. We will seek answers to both of these questions, but I can make no promises.”

  I nodded, knowing how the seer gig worked.

  “The false queen first. That is the easy one.” He held out his gnarled hand. “Try to hold my hand, Mordaca.”

  I reached for him, sh
ivering as my hand passed through his. Weird. But I could feel the slightest tingle of connection.

  His eyes widened and flashed to mine. “Mordaca…your magic.”

  “I know, it’s weak. Disappearing. I can feel an emptiness inside me.”

  His expression turned serious. “It’s gone, Mordaca. Whatever bit of power you had when you arrived in this realm, it is now gone.”

  Cold spread through me, but I knew he was right. The emptiness inside me made it clear. I shared a look with Tarron, whose eyes were dark with worry. He just nodded, and I knew he was feeling the same.

  Shit. I’d had just enough left to find him when we arrived here, and now it was all gone.

  “This wound,”—he pointed to the dark shadow on my arm—“it is very serious. I don’t know what it is, but you must heal it.”

  I nodded. “We need to know how to get out of here. And what happened to the false queen.”

  “I will try to show you what I see,” he said.

  I could feel his magic flare to life inside him as he sought answers to our questions. The pulse of magic flowed through him and into me, igniting images in my mind.

  The false queen, lying atop a stone slab. She’d been injured—grievously, somehow. By me? By the backlash of the magic that had killed both Tarron and me?

  It was impossible to say.

  But despite the pallor of her skin and the stillness of her form, she was alive. Several Unseelie Fae hovered around her, consulting in whispers.

  She opened her eyes, and they blazed. “I am watching.”

  The Unseelie jumped. I jumped.

  I couldn’t help it.

  It almost felt as if she were looking at me. Talking to me.

  “Your Majesty.” The smallest Unseelie, a man with the face of a weasel, bowed low. “We are working to heal you.”

  Her lips thinned. “Be quick about it.”

  He nodded, his eyes watery and faded. “Only a few days, we promise. The magic that has seeped into your bones must be withdrawn. It is weakening you.”

  A few days.

  Could we get out in a few days?

  “Good,” she snapped. “We must launch another attack before my daughter escapes the Court of Death.”

  The Court of Death. That had to be where we were.

  How did she know?

  Scratch that. She was an evil genius. She’d seen us die. And she had my same powers of premonition. Except she wasn’t partially dead, so hers weren’t blocked.

  “Now hurry,” the false queen barked. “I will have both kingdoms soon, before she can stop me.”

  Bitch.

  And I did not mean it as a compliment.

  Aethelred gasped and withdrew his hand from mine. The vision immediately disappeared, and I returned to the present. Aeri and Tarron watched us both, gazes expectant.

  “What did you see?” Tarron asked.

  “She’s got some kind of plan to take over our kingdoms before we can escape here. And she said we are in the Court of Death.”

  Tarron nodded. “I thought that might be the case, though I didn’t believe I would ever come here.”

  “What is it, exactly?” Aeri asked.

  “It’s a Fae afterworld,” Tarron said. “A bit like Purgatory.”

  “Which means you can get out,” Aeri said.

  “Hopefully. I’ve only heard a few stories of this place—I was never much interested in what happened after death.”

  “How do we get out?” I asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  I looked at Aethelred.

  “I can try to see,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  He reached out his hand again, and we repeated the drill. It happened faster this time—a flash of a beautiful, ancient-looking city with a watery white sun setting behind it, and two people. Royals, clearly. A man and a woman, dressed in resplendent garb and sitting on identical thrones.

  Aethelred withdrew his hand from mine, and his magic faded.

  I opened my eyes and met his gaze.

  “That is all I could see.”

  “We have to find them,” I said.

  “Who?” Tarron asked.

  “The king and queen of the Court of Death.” I explained the scene I’d witnessed. “We need an audience with them.”

  “And we’ll just request our release?” Tarron looked skeptical.

  Yeah, it did sound iffy. “I think it will be more complicated than that, but we definitely have to start there.”

  Aethelred gripped my hand. “You must be careful.” His eyes flashed with worry. “I see that only one of you can escape.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t understand the vision. But I see that only one is able to escape.”

  I shook my head, not wanting to think about that, and met Aeri’s eyes. “Could you look for an entrance to the Unseelie Realm? We’ll need to go for the false queen as soon as we are out of here, and I don’t want to approach through the entrance we’ve used before.”

  “No, we don’t want her to see us coming,” Aeri said.

  “If we’re fast, we can strike while she is still healing,” Tarron said.

  “We just need to get out of here quickly.” I looked around, wishing that there were more clues but seeing none. I looked back at Aeri. If I didn’t manage to escape the Court of Death, I might never see her again. “I’ll make it out of here. I promise.”

  Her eyes glinted with unshed tears. “You’d better.”

  I almost reached for her, wanting to hug her. But it wouldn’t work. I lowered my arms.

  “Good luck,” Aethelred said.

  “Thanks.” I gave him a small smile. “I think we’re going to need it.”

  3

  Tarron and I left Aethelred’s house the same way we’d come in. I’d been able to peek in a mirror in the hall on the way out and had been grateful to see that my black mask of makeup was still intact—no tear streaks, despite the crying jag when Tarron had died. I shuddered at the idea of an afterlife with tear-streaked makeup.

  As soon as we stepped off the last step in front of the door, I turned around to look back up.

  I couldn’t see Aethelred or Aeri on the roof, but I could almost feel them.

  I looked at Tarron, wanting to hug him more than anything.

  Of course I couldn’t.

  His death had revealed the depths of my feelings for him, and though I wanted to stay away from the L-word, I wouldn’t be able to deny it forever. Except, I didn’t have time to think of that right now.

  Instead, I called upon my seeker sense. Of course it didn’t work.

  I hated being nearly powerless. Especially while seeking an audience with two royals who held life or death over my head.

  I searched the sky, looking for the watery sun that I’d seen. It gleamed in the distance, a pale white shadow of the one on earth.

  I pointed to it. “I saw the sun setting behind the castle in the vision. Let’s go toward it.”

  “All right.”

  We set off at a brisk walk away from Aethelred’s house.

  We were probably about a hundred yards away when I glanced back.

  The house was gone.

  “We should try to remember where Aethelred’s house was, just in case.”

  Tarron nodded. “Good plan.”

  I kept my senses alert as we traveled. The ephemeral grim reapers could find us again at any moment.

  “I really don’t want to stroll up to this castle on foot,” I said.

  “No, it’s not ideal.” I could hear the frown in his voice.

  From a tactical standpoint, we had a bit of a problem.

  Technically, I was a queen. Queen of the Unseelie Fae.

  It was a strange label. But it didn’t change who I was.

  I’d always been fabulous. Queen of Darklane.

  I’d been practicing that ever since I’d become Mordaca—Blood Sorceress extraordinaire. And Tarron pretty much oozed power and royalty from his
pores.

  We had the demeanor down, but no ride.

  As it stood, we’d be walking up to the castle like commons.

  That sucked. And it could take ages to get there.

  A soft snuffling sounded from my right.

  I turned to see an enormous white stag staring at us from a distance. It stood next to a rowan tree, its massive golden antlers reaching toward the sky. Another one joined it, just as huge and regal.

  The two creatures looked at us, their dark eyes considering. They were just as white and strange as the rest of this place, with the exception of their golden antlers and burning black eyes.

  “What are they?” I breathed.

  “Not normal stags. But it’s like they heard us.”

  On instinct, I bowed to one. Tarron did the same.

  Both stags lowered their heads just briefly, then approached. I waited, breath held and muscles tensed.

  If they charged, they could gut us with one good swipe of their horns.

  Each of the stags stopped in front of us, then knelt upon their front knees.

  I shot Tarron an excited look. “This is perfect.”

  We each climbed onto a stag. I gripped the creature with my thighs as it rose smoothly to its full height.

  I patted its neck. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” Tarron repeated. “To the castle, please.”

  The stags started off at a trot, confidence in every step. They knew exactly where they were going, and I prayed they were actually taking us to the castle.

  The wind blew lightly through my hair as I rode, keeping a wary eye on the forest around us. After roughly an hour—though it was impossible to keep good track of the time—I spotted a dark shadow between the trees. It was about twenty yards off, but it was unmistakable.

  “Reaper,” I murmured.

  “I see.”

  Neither of us bothered drawing a weapon. My heart thundered in my ears as I watched the reaper, which lurked by a huge tree. I could feel the burn of its gaze on me. My arm ached where I’d been hit, and I wished we’d been able to cure the wounds.

  The stag kept trotting along, entirely unconcerned. The reaper never approached. His magic felt faint, as if suppressed by the stag’s.

  “The reaper’s magic isn’t strong enough when it is alone. I don’t think it will come for us while we ride the stags,” Tarron said, satisfaction in his voice.