Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  “Nope, sorry, can’t do that to Nic,” Tania said.

  Cart’s mother’s back stiffened at her words.

  “Is that a can’t or a won’t?” The sharpness of the words cut through her drawl like a knife.

  “Oh-oh,” Cart muttered and picked up his plate. She’d piled it high and every bite was gone. He rose and made his way around the table toward the kitchen.

  “Nic is my protector. And yes, Randall already knows, and yes, I have pronounced him as such to the Folk here, including to our brethren the Weres.”

  “And is there a congress of the heart as well?” Cart’s mother asked. Even Mona could hear the hope in the question.

  “Mom,” Cart said he entered the kitchen. “You don’t need to put pressure on her or Nic.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t do that Cart. Really. Hold that open, would you, sugah, while I get a plate for some of this ‘grub.’ Then I’ll go meet this young lady you are so interested in. I can’t leave either of you alone, can I?”

  Oh my, Mona could tell she was in for a grilling by her tone.

  “Mom, the ‘young lady’ is the Warder hereabouts, and one of my current interests is in training her since the old Warder died without finishing the job.”

  A dish shattered. Mona started up and out of her seat.

  “Abner died?” Margaret said, her voice small and scared.

  “Well, yes. I did tell you. . .”

  A faint popping sound and a surge of magic hit Mona before she got to the doorway.

  Margaret was gone.

  “What was that all about?” she asked.

  “Aw, hell, sorry about the mess. My mother has a flare for dramatics,” Cart said. He looked at Mona then Tania.

  “I’m sorry, Cart, I don’t know where she went,” Tania said. “And since it has to do with Abner, and possibly this whole mess with the renegades, I’m hesitant to ask an imp to follow.”

  Mona went over what had been said before she left.

  “She knew Abner? She . . . wait . . . what is your mother’s full name?” Mona demanded of Cart.

  “Titania Margaret D’Anjou Dupree,” Cart replied. “And no, despite what she might lead you to believe, she wasn’t the wife of Henry the Sixth. That would be her great grandmother, whom she was named after.”

  “D’Anjou. Abner guarded Edward D’Anjou.” As well as his mother. Mona had been shocked with the information earlier, when she’d read the last pages of Abner’s missing journal. No name for his mother popped into her memory; the information Smythe passed along clearly very selective.

  Tania and Cart started to say something but Nic held up his hands to stop them.

  “Wait. Let’s all get something to eat, then we can sit down and figure out who the ward might be and how you’re connected,” Nic said. “If we’re heading out again soon, and it looks like we are, we’ll need the energy.”

  Nic waved them back into the dining room. “You too,” he said to Tania. “I know food isn’t the best source of energy for you, but eating can’t hurt. I’ll clean up here and join you.”

  Mona blinked at this information. If Tania didn’t need food for energy she was truly a Maven in her soul, and it was not merely an honorary title for the work she did. For her, only sunlight or the presence of naturally generated magic would replete her stores. Which explained why there was an elf of such power in their region—Niagara Falls generated more than enough energy to sustain her, provided she was close enough. The vineyard out Nic’s backyard was probably a good, low-level source too.

  Tania came in with a plate containing only salmon, and sat on the other side of Cart. Between bites they started going through the family tree to figure out who Smythe might have been Warding until Nic joined them.

  “Fill me in.” Nic pulled a chair to the corner of the table so it was right next to Tania’s. “Is there a protocol for naming?”

  Seeing Tania and Cart squirm was slightly amusing, although Mona understood their reactions. Nic watched them both with raised eyebrows.

  “Any help here, sis?” Nic asked when it became clear neither was going to answer.

  From what Mona had heard, if a full elf was fertile and conception was going to occur, the goddess’s blessing raced through the pair during the climax of intercourse and the first name of their child was revealed. Elves, though, considered it bad luck, not to mention highly personal, to talk about the experience.

  “Do you mean given names,” Mona’s voice squeaked slightly but she persevered, “or last names or earned names?”

  “Wait!” Cart cut in, blushing. “I think you’re mostly interested in the last name of this guy, right?”

  “Right. Now, for Mona and myself, she has my mother’s last name and I have my father’s. Is that typical?”

  “Yes and no. The mother has the entire decision on which last name the child will bear,” Cart said.

  Nic nodded. “Okay, but is there any protocol at all or is it merely a toss of the coin?”

  “A lot of the mother’s decision has to do with families and perceived social standing as well as the power of each elf in the relationship.” Tania added. “Often, but not always, the mother will give the surname with a longer history. Which, most likely, explains why you are a Lombard and your sister is a Trubek. Both are old and honored families.”

  “So, anyway, D’Anjou’s a family name. Tania and I might be able to figure out who it was,,” Cart supplied. “Could Marty have had a kid before the girls? I mean, we all know Abner was old, could have been that, huh?”

  Tania looked thoughtful. “You’re right, I think we aren’t going back far enough. As you said, Abner was old. Is there a sibling or cousin of Aunt Meg and Uncle Marty’s it could be?”

  Cart shrugged his shoulders and started listing people with Tania jumping in to fill names.

  Mona didn’t recognize any, not that she was sure she would.

  “Is this something you could ask an imp?” Nic asked.

  Startled into silence, Cart and Tania exchanged a look and then laughed.

  “Thanks, Nic,” Tania said. “An imp might be able to tell us—however, Randall definitely could. If he will, that’s another matter. I need an imp, please.”

  Randall flashed into being in the middle of the dining room table, setting over the candlesticks and bowl of pinecones. He wore a twenties gangster outfit, pinstripes, spats, and hat complete with a dapper feather. Mona knew from experience that this meant he was out for vengeance.

  “Where is she?” he said, stalking up to Tania. “I’ve trying to track Titania Margaret down and the imps won’t go to her. She better have some answers.”

  Nic’s voice overrode everyone else’s. “Answers to what?”

  They all quieted down and waited for Randall’s answer.

  “Why the hell she wasn’t monitoring her uncle like she agreed to?”

  “Edward?” Mona asked. Given how extensive elf families were, it was possible to have that large a generation gap.

  “Edward? I’m talking about Abner. Weak link there, we all knew he was going to cave in, but we didn’t think it’d be this catastrophic. Or, honestly, that he’d hold out this long. Wait, who the hell is Edward?”

  “Edward D’Anjou, Abner’s ward,” Mona said, worry lacing through her at his description of things being catastrophic.

  “No, Abner’s ward was Elisabeth Dupree, Titania Margaret’s mother’s sister and Abner’s wife. Edward D’Anjou? Aw, crap.” He spun to face Tania, pointing his finger in her face. “You need to get going now! This is bad, bad, bad.”

  “Randall,” Tania said, clearly trying to maintain her calm, “it would help me if I knew what ability Elisabeth manifested or if you know what ability Edward has.”

  “Is she serious?” He turned to fire the question at Mona. Not even waiting for a response, he leaned forward and placed his face where his finger had been, his voice dropping to become a hoarse, harsh whisper. “You can’t figure out the ability he has? Does the
fact that Weres are being forced into their animal forms tell you anything? And think about this, princess, there are more Weres who are now animals than there were half bloods.”

  Everyone at the table, except Nic, paled and gasped. Smythe’s memory provided images for Mona. The darkest and bloodiest of Folk tales involved possession by the wicked and insane spirit of the first Were.

  “We’ve got ourselves a Lycoan. And this one looks almost as strong as the first Were he’s named after. You,” Randall’s gesture took in everyone in the room, “need to go after him and soon.”

  He straightened up and immediately disappeared.

  They all sat blinking at the space he’d recently occupied.

  Tania started to shake, and Nic scooted his chair over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “What the hell is a Lycoan and how can it convert people into Weres who aren’t?” he asked.

  There was an awkward moment of silence before Cart cleared his throat. “You know anything about Weres?”

  Nic shook his head.

  “There are three types of shifters. The rarest is a first generation. They are the offspring of a full elf and a mortal. That’s me. My bloodlines are exactly half of each, which, with the amount of crossbreeding in the past, is getting rare. Because I’m a first generation I carry my den’s totem inside me. I can change into my beast, anytime, any place, although the moon call is still strong and the easiest time for me to change. I also have other abilities, but they’re not relevant. Now a little more common, but still not so much, is a strong Were. That’s someone who also has fifty-fifty blood lines but isn’t first generation. They too can change out of cycle, but not so easily. The moon has a stronger influence on their ability because they don’t carry their animals with them at all times, it’s more of a displacement of their body with a magical beast from Elfhaven. Then there are what most Weres in the pack are—close to fifty percent elfblood and only able to change with the full moon. Of course, there are Weres who don’t have enough magic in their bloodlines to call their beasts who are still part of the pack.”

  Mona hadn’t heard that before. She must have jerked, because Cart glanced at her.

  Tania continued. “What a Lycoan does is manipulate the body of a Were and supplement the magic in some way, making it so they can change into their totem even if they’re not strong or first generation. Or a Lycoan attempts to supplement it, there’s only so much he can add if the Were’s innate magic is too low, the forced shift will kill the shifter. He also can hold anyone—strong, first, anyone he’s successfully forced to change—in their beast shape until he chooses to release them. He can create an army that way if he so wishes.”

  They looked at each other. Was that what he was doing?

  “This particular Lycoan has no discernment on who is close, and we’ve witnessed his attempts to force the change on Were who are too far away from the fifty-fifty split. As you can imagine, it’s gruesome,” Cart added. “Thank the fates the female version of the trait is far more benign given it’s also far more common.”

  Nic sat for a moment looking back and forth between the three of them. Mona knew him well enough to guess his next question.

  “How do you release the changed Weres?”

  “The Weres? Short of killing them? Haven’t heard of any way.” Cart’s voice softened. “You got any ideas, cuz?”

  “Yes . . . no.” Tania gestured vaguely. “I was planning to talk to Aunt Meg, but I’m not so sure how much of a help she is going to be. Sorry, Cart. I wonder though . . . do you think she knew this might happen? It would explain why she keeps trying to make more full elves.”

  “You mean . . . aw, heck, I don’t know.” Disbelief and shock laced Cart’s voice. “I’d like to think that her screwing around and trying to elevate so many elves was noble. That’d be nice. But I’d never assume my mother does anything for a single reason.”

  “You do know I have no clue what you are saying, right?” Nic said.

  “Cart’s mom has the female version of the trait,” Mona explained. “She can elevate male elves to full ranking, and somehow supplement their ability to work magic to make their workings closer to the level of a full elf. Unlike a Lycoan, this is considered a good thing, especially since full male elves are very rare.”

  “What ability do you think she was looking for?” Nic asked Tania.

  “That’s just it, I’m not sure,” Tania said. “It’s only a rumor, but she has gone to the effort of making many men close to full elves. However, if you take a Titania’s power and apply it to a full or almost full blooded elf, the theory is you’ll get something . . . more. I don’t know what.”

  Somehow Mona thought Tania did have a good idea, but was hesitant to say anything. Like her reluctance over naming conventions, there were things Tania would not speak about in Nic’s company.

  “Yeah, maybe if Mom had been more discerning or had a better grasp of who was an elf and who wasn’t—” Cart couldn’t keep the derision out of his voice. “Plus the change never stuck. Every single one turned back.”

  “Enough, speculation isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Tania waved off any further talk. “Nic and I think that the numbers in Abner’s message were routes, directions to where the Were pack is being held up in Canada. I think we should gear up and head out. Can everyone be ready in about an hour?”

  “No.” Nic’s assertion forestalled anyone’s answer. “We’re heading into unmapped woods, something we want to do in daylight if possible. Unless someone thinks the need to act immediately outweighs the need for our being better prepared?”

  Cart raised an eyebrow at Tania, but didn’t naysay Nic. Nic seemed to take the silence as acceptance. “Everyone gather what information they can, anything you think might possibly be useful. And be sure to rest at least six hours. We’ll meet here and head out an hour before dawn.”

  Mona contemplated how the change Tania implied, which was clearly already working on Nic, was going to affect her brother. Because, try as he might to deny it, and despite the fact that he had not had a talent evince itself, he was as close to a full blood elf as possible in this day and age.

  “Good,” Nic said. “It’s eight p.m. Be back here at six a.m. Unless you’re planning to stay here? You’re welcome to stay.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Mona wanted to find out more about Lycoans and Titanias and their powers, which meant she’d have less than six hours of sleep, but for once she was feeling caught up.

  “I’ll go with you, there’s some stuff I want to look up too.” Cart stood and pulled out her chair.

  “Tania.” Cart’s grip on Mona’s arm tensed as he addressed his cousin. “If you hear anything from my mom, let me know. I suspect though, that we’ll both hear from her soon enough.”

  “If not,” Tania replied, “she’s probably done the smart thing and headed to Elfhaven until all this blows over. Your mother never did like direct confrontation.”

  Mona didn’t think Cart believed her, but he didn’t say anything as they helped clean up.

  Once in the car, they settled on going back to headquarters first, and Mona tried to sort through her racing thoughts. While she knew and had learned a lot of Folk mythology and history, it was clear she didn’t yet know enough. Although she had a strong guess. Who else came to mind when you thought of Titania?

  “So, tell me about Oberon,” she said to Cart.

  He jerked the wheel slightly, but didn’t leave the lane. “Crap. How did I miss that?”

  “Too close to the situation? Plus, since my mother didn’t have much to do with Folk, the first name I associate with Titania is Oberon.”

  “Drama club in high school, right?”

  “English major in college before I dropped out to go to culinary school. So, what’s the scoop?”

  “Besides the fact that he’s a powerful elf who’s the enforcer of Folk justice—or his interpretation of it—on mortals and other Folk? Not sure.”

  Mona
thought through what she knew about Titania and changes.

  “I realize that this might be awkward, but how do most Folk react when they find out they’ve been changed by your mother?”

  “Worried about Nic?”

  “But unlike the others, this would be permanent, right?”

  “If that’s what’s happening, yes.” Cart was silent a moment, negotiating the darkened stretch of rural highway as he thought. “I can’t say there was any ‘one way’ or that everyone reacted in the way you thought they would.”

  Who knew, if Nic would be in charge of meting out justice, he might actually take the change well. Plus, it was clear he was very attached to Tania, which would help. But that he’d been coerced into the position? That might outweigh both the others.

  “Hmmm, what about the Lycoan? Any insight on him?”

  “Beside what Randall said about changing Weres, no.”

  “Will he affect you?” she belated asked. She didn’t think she could stand to see him forced into transforming.

  “I don’t think so, since I’m already a strong Were. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” He pulled into a parking spot behind the building. “Maybe there’ll be something in the books you picked up at the compound too.”

  So much for thinking he hadn’t noticed since he’d been in tiger form. “It’s in code. I’m not sure we’ll have a luxury of the time to decipher it.

  After a good hour of reading, they hadn’t come up with much.

  “Do you think Nic is going to be Tania’s first?” Mona asked as she flipped through Smythe’s tome. They’d settled on the couch and had the large book on the coffee table in front of them. Cart was reading through the last couple of journal entries, making notes on a piece of paper on the miniscule space not occupied by the tome.

  The other book Mona had found was still an indecipherable mystery.

  “First what?”

  “You know, first lover?” She couldn’t help blushing. “Because if he is, and they’re already bound, from this passage it seems more likely the change will occur and be permanent. Although, he’s already pretty much a full elf.”