by Linsey Hall
Caro nodded, seeming both stalwart and anxious, which was a difficult combo to pull off.
Aerdeca’s gaze became serious. “Whatever happens, do not go any deeper into the water.”
She didn’t elaborate, but she didn’t need to. Her tone made it obvious something would happen.
Something awful.
Death.
Mordaca dug a slender paintbrush out of her pocket. How she managed to fit so many pockets in such a sleek dress, I had no idea. Magic swelled on the air as she dipped the brush into the potion and began to paint it onto Caro’s outstretched arms. It tasted like Mordaca’s whiskey signature and felt like the cool breeze of Aerdeca’s, but with something else layered over the top. Something slightly dark from the way it prickled across my skin.
The blue pond glittered more fiercely as the paint was applied, magic making the surface ripple.
Caro grimaced, then stiffened her spine.
Moments passed, and the magic in the air began to strengthen. Blue steam rose off the surface of the water, then began to swirl around the three women. It seeped into my lungs, burning slightly.
I blinked, my vision going hazy through the smoke as my lungs continued to ache.
Caro cried out, sharp and intense.
Then she fell, dropping backward.
Aerdeca shouted, panic in her voice.
Don’t go any deeper into the water. Their warning flashed in my mind, along with the deadly consequences.
I lunged forward, reaching for Caro, hoping to catch her. As soon as my foot splashed into the water, magic exploded outward. The explosive force came directly from Caro, slamming into me and making my hand burn like crazy.
“No!” Mordaca screamed.
My heart thudded. She’d never sounded so frightened.
It was the last thing I heard before a massive force tugged at my ankles, pulling me into the water. It closed around my head, stinging fiercely against my skin. Panic closed my throat as I scrabbled for the surface, trying to claw my way upward. But it was no good. I kept going deeper.
2
The water pulled at me, dragging me deeper. Something else pulled at me, something that came from far away. It tore at my muscles, tugging and yanking. My muscles felt like they would tear away from my bones, and agony streaked through me.
Bubbles whirled as I tried to fight my way to the surface, but I was too weak. Too broken. All of my flailing did no good.
Through bleary vision, I thought I saw shapes above the water. Someone dragging Caro back—I could identify her silvery, platinum hair—then another, diving for me.
It was the last thing I saw as the agony made my vision go black. The force tried to tear me away, like the ether when it sucked me into a portal. I fought it, instinct compelling me to resist with every fiber of my being.
I didn’t want to go wherever this force was trying to take me.
Strong hands gripped my arms, yanking me through the water. The pain flared brighter.
“No!” I tried to scream, but only bubbles escaped my mouth.
I didn’t want to be dragged away, but being saved made the pain worse. Whoever was trying to rescue me was fighting the force that tried to pull me away, and it tore at my muscles and bones all the fiercer.
They didn’t stop, though, pulling and yanking me through the water until my head burst through the surface. I sucked air into my lungs, gasping raggedly.
The pain.
Out of the water, I could feel the hot tears rolling down my face. But I could barely see. What was wrong with my vision?
“I’ve got you.” Lachlan’s rough voice broke through the haze.
I tried to talk but could only croak. No real words escaped my mouth.
“Get her upstairs!” Aerdeca’s voice sounded. “Now!”
I was moving then, jostling in Lachlan’s arms as he raced up the stairs.
“Hurry!” Mordaca shouted. “She’s not protected! The spell is still trying to drag her away!”
Panic flared. My heart thundered so hard it felt like it was beating against my aching muscles. Fear like I’d never known filled me, an icy chill that did nothing to numb the pain.
“Put her on the table!”
Who was speaking? I could no longer see. I think I tried to writhe in pain, but I couldn’t control my body anymore.
“Hold on to her!” someone screamed. “Don’t let go or they’ll get her.”
They?
Who?
The Fates.
It was the only rational thought in my head, and I knew it was driven by fear.
It hurt so bad I wanted to tell Lachlan to let me go. If he did, maybe the pain would stop. I tried to speak, but no words came.
Something flashed in my mind, dark and quick.
I latched onto it. Any distraction from this pain was welcome.
A crow.
It was a massive crow, flying through my mind. The wings were a bright, shiny black as the bird soared.
A sense of control flowed through me. The pain was still there. The panic, too.
But somehow, I could get control of it.
I clung to the sensation, keeping my eye on the crow as it swept in front of my eyes. It was my lifeline, and I clung to it.
Slowly, part of my brain returned to the present. It was just a sliver, and I still couldn’t see, but I could make out movement around me. Frantic bustling from the people surrounding me.
Then pain, flaring sharp at my palm. A cut?
It burned, just briefly.
Then sweet relief began to flow. The absence of pain. Better than any kind of pleasure, when it just stopped hurting.
The painless bliss streamed up my arm to my chest, then down my other limbs and through my head, bringing with it a sense of calm.
Finally, the pain was all gone.
I blinked, my vision slowly clearing.
Lachlan, Caro, Aerdeca, and Mordaca all stood over me, staring down. Their faces were all whiter than snow, their eyes stark.
“Are you all right?” Lachlan’s voice was rough.
“Do you still feel the pulling sensation?” Mordaca demanded. Her eyes raced over me, her lips tight.
“No,” I croaked. “I don’t feel it.” Aching, I tried to sit. Was I on the big table in their workshop?
Yes. I gripped the sides.
“Let me help you.” Lachlan reached behind my back and helped me sit, his strong arms giving my weak muscles the strength they needed to move.
“What happened?” My voice was almost a whisper, and I felt like I could use a nap for a century. “Are you all okay?”
“You saved Caro,” Mordaca said. “But you screwed yourself.”
Relief flashed through me, followed by dread. “What do you mean?”
“She was about to fall into the water, and you caught her,” Aerdeca said. “The spell that we’d placed on her to learn the origin of the tattoo weakened her system enough that she wouldn’t have survived a dip in the pool. But when you stepped into the water, the magic that imbued her tattoo transferred to you, too.”
“Like a virus.” Mordaca’s eyes were grim.
“What?” It was exhausting agony to speak the words, and only Lachlan’s arms were keeping me upright.
“The water is a conduit for our magic, making it flow stronger and fiercer,” Mordaca said. “It was also a conduit for the spell.”
Aerdeca lifted my hand, the one that had so recently been burning. She turned it so I could see the palm.
The tattoo stared back at me. A cross with a circle around it.
Just like the one Caro wore.
“Holy fates.” Horror streaked through me.
“As soon as you received the tattoo, it started to drag you away from here. You aren’t wearing the same protective amulet that Caro is wearing.”
“That’s what the tearing sensation was.”
“Exactly.” Aerdeca nodded. “The spell ages over time. It was given to Caro several days ago, so it’s
had that amount of time to grow. It wasn’t that strong when she first received it.”
“But why did the spell act so strongly on Ana if she just received it?” Lachlan asked.
“It wasn’t really a fresh tattoo, though it seems like it is,” Mordaca said. “It’s part of Caro’s tattoo, magically transferred. So it began to drag her away immediately. Given time, it will only become stronger. It will tear you away so fast you won’t realize that it’s happened until you’re a captive of the Fates.”
“But I’m protected now?” I peered at my palm, my stomach turning.
“For about a week, yes,” Aerdeca said. “We made you a quick binding charm. It won’t last forever, though.”
“And it used up our supply of Mugwort.” Mordaca frowned, then seemed to catch herself and winked at me. “Worth it for you, though.”
“So you can’t make another, is what you mean,” Lachlan said. “Ana has a week, then she’ll become a captive of the Fates.”
“Precisely,” Mordaca said.
“Unless she hides out at the Protectorate castle, like the rest of us,” Caro said.
The two Blood Sorceresses nodded.
I swallowed hard. It was no way to live, hiding out at the castle. Worse, one day the Fates might attack. If they succeeded, we’d lose our protection and become their slaves anyway.
Shit, this was bad news.
“But you are lucky,” Aerdeca said. “The Mugwort potion will allow you to use your magic. It’s stronger than Seawort, the potion that is protecting Caro and some of the other Protectorate members.”
That was lucky, at least. Seawort protected Caro and the others from being dragged away by the spell, but their magic was still dampened. Part of the tattoo’s curse suppressed their magic. They could only use it if the Fates allowed it, and of course they didn’t. I was grateful to have mine, though. Exhaustion dragged at my eyes as I tried to keep them open. It was the kind of tired that physically hurt.
I forced myself to speak. “Did you figure out anything about the tattoo?”
Please say yes. Considering how wrong this had gone, I prayed we had at least a few answers.
“Yes,” Aerdeca said. “Just before you were taken, we learned who made the spell that imbues it.”
“Not the Fates?” Caro asked.
I was glad she knew the right questions to ask, because speaking had nearly become too much for me.
“Not them. It’s too advanced,” Aerdeca said. “It was made by a cult of people who live far to the north. The Indomidae. You can access them through the Corryvreckan whirlpool.”
Lachlan frowned. “A whirlpool?”
“One of the few that exists naturally,” Mordaca said. “It is now a portal. If you can reach it, you will find the Indomidae. They can tell you how to remove the tattoos.”
“Which means you can’t tell us.” Dejection sounded in Caro’s voice.
Mordaca shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. Their magic is closely guarded, but it carries a distinct signature.”
“The scent of salt air and the feel of a seal’s sleek pelt across your palm,” Aerdeca said. “Impossible to mistake. But if you find them, and somehow manage to get the information, you might be able to remove those tattoos.”
Might.
That was a terrible word.
It was the last thought I had before exhaustion made me slump on the table.
The dream felt like a dream. That kind of hazy reality that was almost the truth, but you knew it wasn’t.
I walked over the rock-strewn hillside, the wind tearing at my hair. Heavy black clouds roiled on the horizon, blocking out the sun and sending the day into an early dusk. The air was chill, tugging at my skirts.
Skirts?
I looked down, catching sight of the heavy green wool that flapped around my legs. Golden embroidery covered the bottom, beautiful in its ornate delicacy. Old-fashioned-looking leather boots peeped out from beneath the hem of the skirt with every step I took, the toes pointed.
“What the heck am I wearing?” I muttered, holding out my arms to stare at the long, tight sleeves of the dress. The same emerald green, accented with golden thread.
Something was slung across my back, and I reached to grab it and pull it around to the front.
A bow, beautifully carved of golden wood, with Celtic knots inscribed in the gleaming surface. More exploration revealed a quiver of arrows.
I’d never favored the bow and arrow. If anyone did, it was Rowan, but even she didn’t use it exclusively. The heavy golden belt at my waist was fitted with a dagger, long and sharp. But somehow, I knew I used the bow more often.
I kept walking, wondering where I was going while simultaneously feeling like I had an important destination in mind.
But I was all the way out in the middle of nowhere. Just rolling hills and rocks. Every now and again, a barren oak tree reached for the thundering sky, skinny branches quivering in the breeze.
Overhead, crows circled, shiny black birds that weaved through the clouds.
I felt a kinship with them, almost like they were family.
Almost like I was a crow.
Um, nah.
That was nuts. I wasn’t a shifter. And would I really choose a crow?
From high overhead, the birds cawed, as if they were offended. Smart bastards.
I reached the top of the hill and hung my bow over a branch of the barren oak tree that held a lonely vigil. It was odd to observe my motions, almost as if I weren’t part of them. I was doing them, but not.
I removed the quiver next, then my belt and dagger. A half second later, magic surged through me, bright and fierce. It felt like nothing familiar. Not like my magic, at least.
Every nerve ending buzzed, as if champagne were flowing through my veins.
Then I leapt from the ground, flying high into the air.
Flying?
But I was. The earth fell away below me, the tree growing smaller with every flap of my wings.
Holy fates, I had wings.
I looked left and right, catching sight of the bright black wings that carried me through the air. The crows began to circle around me, tiny in comparison to my bulk.
I was big!
And I was a crow.
Strangely, the greatest sense of power flowed through me. Battle cries sounded in the distance, the clash of steel. It was my domain. I could feel it.
I could fly to the battle and smite one side, forcing them to lose.
It was all up to me, if I wanted it to be.
Instead, I swooped through the sky, joy alighting in my chest at the feel of the wind in my feathers. The clouds were no longer threatening. They were my playground.
What the hell was I?
An answer echoed in my mind, though I had no idea where it came from.
Warrior goddess. Battle Crow.
I woke in my bed, my mouth tasting like old fish and death. I couldn’t breathe. A horrible weight crushed my chest. My lungs didn’t work.
Gasping in a ragged breath, I opened my eyes.
Muffin stared down at me, his ugly wrinkled face only a few inches from mine. Concern flashed in his green eyes, and he breathed gently on me, whiskers quivering.
I gagged. “You have tuna breath.”
I found a can, but there’s none left for you. Are you all right?
“How’d you open it?” I croaked.
He held up one paw and extended a single gleaming claw. I have my ways.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Hardly able to breathe because his big butt was pinning me to the bed, I nudged him off of me.
He ambled onto the bed, wobbling a bit on the fluffy covers, then turned back to me. Are you all right? You look pale. Smell weird, too.
“I wouldn’t be accusing people of smelling weird, Tuna Breath.”
One man’s trash is another cat’s tuna. He butted me with his head, being strangely affectionate.
“Jeez, I must really be in bad shape if you
’re being so nice.”
You look bad.
Memories crashed into me. The visit to Darklane, the pool beneath the earth, Caro’s tattoo. My tattoo.
I raised my hand and looked at it, dread coursing through me.
The dark symbol marred my hand, and I swallowed hard. “I was hoping it’d been a bad dream.”
I’d barely been conscious through most of it. Turns out, that didn’t matter.
Muffin hissed at the tattoo. Bad news.
“No kidding.” I scrambled up and raced toward the bathroom, not sure if I were going to hurl or throw myself into the shower.
I chose the shower, cranking up the water to high heat. My skin itched all over, probably from my dip in that horrible pool. Within seconds, I’d torn off my clothes and jumped in the water. I scrubbed ferociously at my hand, to no avail.
You could cut it off.
I looked up at the sound of Muffin’s voice. He sat on the bar that held the shower curtain, wobbling slightly to keep his balance. His little wings fluttered, giving him some extra staying power.
“Hedy isn’t sure that will work.” We’d already explored that avenue. No one wanted to chop their hand off, of course, but if it kept them from becoming slaves to the Fates, they were willing to try. “She said that there’s a chance the spell is already part of us. The tattoo is the base and helped it get into us, but the spell was probably placed on our whole bodies. So we could chop our hands off and still be screwed.”
Muffin scrunched up his face. Not good. How will you open tuna?
“No kidding.” I made quick work of scrubbing the rest of myself clean, then I hopped out and tugged on clothes. A quick glance in the mirror showed that Muffin was right.
I looked bad.
So pale that the golden torc tattoo stood out starkly on my collarbones, and my eyes were dark. Nearly black, which was weird.
Black as a crow’s feathers.
