Wicked Enchantment

by Anya Bast

  She envied them, envied their role and responsibilities.

  She envied Bella and Ronan, too. That was something she could never say out loud. Just thinking it made her fear the Summer Queen’s wrath. The Seelie Tuatha Dé were supposedly the chosen, the special ones. They were privileged to reside within the walls of the Rose Tower and bear the title and bloodline of the goddess Danu. To even entertain the notion that the Unseelie might have some advantages over them was unthinkable.

  But maybe having a job, any kind of job, would help her get out of this rut she’d entrenched herself in. Maybe it would help her to stop feeling so sorry for herself. She hated that she did right now. Loathed this edge of self-pity. She had a beautiful apartment, all the money she could want. What did she have to dislike about her life?

  Her thoughts drifted to the book she’d found in her father’s things when he died. She hadn’t looked at it for years, hadn’t dared. There was something about this time, on this rainy day as she contemplated her life and her recent encounter with the Wild Hunt, that made her want to risk taking another read.

  A moment more of indecision and she was headed to her bedroom. She opened the safe she kept in her walk-in closet, pushed her inherited jewels to the side, and found the cloth-wrapped book she sought. Though she had no idea what the book was, her intuition had told her it was valuable and needed to be kept under lock and key. She took it into the living room and curled up on the couch with it in her lap, though this was not a novel to be enjoyed on a rainy afternoon. This book was all nonfiction.

  About spell casting.

  It was ancient, with a worn red leather cover and a locked portion at the back with a grooved indentation where she assumed an object must fit, acting like a key. Beyond that, she knew nothing about the tome—whether it was Seelie or Unseelie. It could even be Phaendir in origin; there were no identifying marks. The book contained page after page of spells written in Old Maejian. She had no idea what the locked portion might contain. That portion was smooth, seamless, sealed with some sort of magick to be released only when the key was placed into the grooves, she was certain.

  She wasn’t sure how her father had come to possess it and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She didn’t know what the Summer Queen would do to her if she knew Aislinn had it . . . she wasn’t sure she wanted to know that, either.

  Staring down at the gold material that wrapped it for a long moment, she remembered her father. Gods, she missed him so much. Her father had been the one to comfort her when she’d had nightmares as a child. He’d been the parent to allow her to cry on his shoulder when a boy she liked had hurt her feelings or during any number of other adolescent traumas. Her mother had always been the reserved one, the one pushing her to be stronger, better, perfect, while her father had just wanted her to be happy. He’d loved her unconditionally and with every fiber of himself.

  As she’d loved him back.

  Never in all her days could she imagine her happy, simple father with a drop of Unseelie blood or being involved in any dark political scandal or drama. Yet she’d found this book under a few loose floorboards in his bedroom after his death. He and her mother had been long since separated at the time of his demise, and it had fallen to her, the only child of their union, to manage his estate. Clearly it had been hidden there on purpose.

  Slowly, she unwrapped the dark red book. The vellum pages were old and scrawled in a handwritten text that was charmed to withstand the test of time. The volume was written in the old tongue of the Tuatha Dé and was probably just as ancient. Old Maejian was a language the Unseelie learned in school for spell casting, but as a spoken language, for the most part, it was dead. Especially to the Seelie, who had no use for it.

  Once the fae had been forced to disappear into human society—go underground—many of their old ways had died. They’d been required to integrate with humans in so many respects to survive—speaking human languages was just one way. Aislinn knew a little bit of Old Maejian, but most of what she’d learned had disappeared from disuse.

  She opened the cover and frowned, trying to read the first page. That one was still unclear to her. Gabriel could probably read it just fine. He was probably fluent. She quashed a flicker of envy.

  Spotting the velvet page marker she’d left in the book the last time she’d opened it, she flipped to that page. Here was a part she could decipher. She wasn’t even certain how she could translate this particular spell; it just called to her. It spoke to the magick running through her veins. Turning on the light beside her, she read until her eyes crossed, searching for something. She just wasn’t sure what, exactly.

  Coming to a small bit of a spell, she murmured the words aloud.

  Tuela mae argo naught

  Tae ilium tohurst velliu oost

  Sarque pae neaht ar ingram naught

  Velliu mae silan vo archt

  Power rose around her in swirling currents, so subtly at first she barely noticed it, then growing stronger fast. She gasped and snapped her mouth shut and the book a second later. The cover closed with a thump and the power fell away abruptly.

  “What was that?” she breathed to the empty room as if she expected someone to answer. Dark had fallen outside but it still rained. Fat drops of it slid down her windows.

  Swallowing hard, she looked down at the book. Raising that magick had felt good . . . right. She said the words again. Oddly, she’d memorized them. They fell from her lips effortlessly.

  Maybe it was dumb. No, she knew it was dumb. Yet she couldn’t stop herself.

  The words came again. She didn’t stop even though the magick warmed the air around her, made her ears pop. The spell poured like water through a winter-cold pipe, trickling at first, but as the pipe grew warmer, the words flowed faster . . . and magick flooded.

  “Aislinn.”

  She gasped and looked up. The invaluable, ancient book slid from her lap and dropped to the floor.

  “Papa?”

  He stood before her, wavy and insubstantial as a ghost. A long, shimmering silver cord anchored him somewhere in the Netherworld. The image of her father blinked, confused. “Aislinn? What am I doing here?”

  The magick faltered, making his hazy image waver and nearly disappear. She reached out and the word ripped from her, “No!”

  Her father held a hand toward her, a look of longing on his face.

  She stood and took a couple of steps toward him, the blanket falling from her shoulders. The magick was slipping away fast. Sweet Danu, no! “Papa, don’t leave!”

  “I love you, honey.” His voice sounded so far away, getting farther. His image wavered and then faded completely.

  She stumbled to the middle of the living room and went down on her knees where her father had just been. Seeing him again like that—even hazy, as if in a dream—had been like a punch to the solar plexus. She simply hadn’t been prepared. Apparently the words she’d been saying had called him. She’d called someone to her from the Netherworld.

  “Oh, Papa,” she whispered. She held a fist to the ache in her chest, closing her eyes against a swell of deep grief that never completely went away.

  Why had she called him? Because she’d been thinking of him? Was that how it worked?

  But how had she done it and could she do it again? It felt good, natural, like a missing part of her had returned with the power that swelled around her.

  Oh, Gods, she was a necromancer. There could be no other explanation. Her Unseelie blood was stronger than she’d ever imagined.

  She wasn’t sure how long she knelt on the carpet of the living room with the priceless book in a jumble not far away. The shock of seeing her father again eventually eased from her body and she stood, gathered the book, wrapped it up, and replaced it.

  The euphoria of what she’d done eased into reality. She’d called her father this time and the magick had been weak, mostly due to her own ignorance, she was certain. That had been heartbreaking, but also fortunate. What would have happened if
she’d summoned some other spirit to her? Perhaps someone malevolent? And what would have happened if she’d done that and somehow the magick had remained? She would have been left with a spirit in this realm that she couldn’t control.

  She was too untrained for this.

  Gods, how stupid could she be? She pushed the book to the back of the safe, locked it, then leaned her head against the door and let out a shuddering sigh. She had no training for her skill and she never would; therefore, she had no business poking around in arts as dark as these.

  Of course, Gabriel could probably help her.

  He probably had some direction when it came to these things, could speak Old Maejian fluently and knew what to do with spells like these. He definitely wasn’t afraid of the dark. He’d grown up surrounded by magickal arts like this and maybe could even use them responsibly.

  “No.” She said it out loud, just to make sure it penetrated her mind. “No way.”

  Then she remembered the dinner. Glancing at the clock, she saw she was late. She quickly changed her clothes, freshened up a bit, and made her way to Gabriel’s temporary apartment on the fifth floor of the Rose Tower’s annex. It was a place used to house guests. In the center was a lovely atrium with year-round flowering gardens, a fountain, and live birds.

  “You’re late,” Gabriel said, opening the door.

  She nearly lost her breath. He was dressed head to toe in black—black jeans, black boots, black cable-knit sweater. She couldn’t even see his hair in all that shadow.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She tipped her head to the side. “What is it with you and black?”

  He stepped back and opened his arms, sweeping down his body. “You don’t like it?”

  “Oh,” she answered, drawing a breath to steady herself and attempting a dry tone of voice, “I think it suits you just fine.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  The place was fairly small, but decorated richly. A one-bedroom apartment with a small kitchen and an intimate dining area, currently set for two. Two?

  She turned. “Where are Carina and Drem?”

  He spread his hands. “You’re late.” Shrug. Satisfied grin. “They already left.”

  Of course they did. Her jaw locked and her eyes narrowed. She was sure Carina had waited approximately two minutes after eight p.m. and then decided she’d waited too long and used it as an excuse to leave her alone with Gabriel.

  “I made chicken cordon bleu with chocolate mousse for dessert,” he said quickly. “Stay, Aislinn, please.” He paused and his lips twisted in a self-effacing grin. “You know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever had to beg to spend time with me.”

  Dinner did smell delicious. Her stomach rumbled despite the rich meal she’d had for lunch. “It’s good for you,” she replied with a smile. She turned and began inspecting the shelves of small statues that decorated the wall of the living room. They were all of famous Seelie Tuatha Dé throughout history. Putting Gabriel in this apartment must have been the queen’s jab at the Unseelie Court.

  Soon they were sitting down to a meal that was so delicious she lost herself in every bite. The chocolate mousse melted in her mouth. She ate it slowly, savoring each mouthful.

  “Are you happy here, Aislinn?”

  She paused with the spoon in her mouth. Carefully, she set it beside her scraped-empty dish and leaned back in her chair. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A relevant one for someone who’s considering a major life change. I am considering moving from one court to the other, remember?” He caught her gaze and held it for a long moment. “Today in the store you seemed bored. Were you just bored with shopping, or was it something more?”

  She glanced away. He was too perceptive by half. Maybe he wasn’t as self-absorbed as she’d thought. “That’s a very personal question.”

  “I don’t mean it that way. I’m simply asking if you’re happy with your life here. It’s much different from the Black and I’m weighing my decision to change. I’m doing this to stave off the boredom of a long life, but if my move here will only bring more stagnation I won’t want to do it.”

  She sighed impatiently. “You’ve been here nearly a week, Gabriel. You’ve seen all there is to see. This is a social court, protected by the immense powers of our queen. Magick is not valued here as it is in the Black Tower and we’re largely idle—favoring parties, balls, and shopping to actual work. The advantage here is that it’s safe. As long as you are an accepted member of this court, you will always be taken care of and will want for nothing. You will always have the respect of the troop and be revered.”

  “I don’t want parties, balls, and shopping to be the extent of the rest of my life. I don’t care about being revered or taken care of. I take care of myself just fine and always have.” He smiled. “And I don’t like to shop.”

  “Okay, I’m speaking from a feminine perspective. The men do other things.”

  “Like what?”

  She pressed her lips together. “Kendal spends a lot of time with the Fianna, though he doesn’t get into as much trouble as they do. They play pool and go out in the fields to play saecarr.” Saecarr was an ancient fae game that had been the inspiration for rugby, the sport humans played. “Sometimes they go to troop bars to smoke cigars and drink beer.”

  The Fianna were men descended from the original Fianna of legend, though these men also had the blood of the Tuatha Dé. Long ago they were hired swords, fighting for whatever king needed them to support his battles. Here in Piefferburg that tradition was long dead, leaving these men with little to do but get in trouble, a thing they did on a regular basis.

  “Not a big fan of saecarr.”

  “Well, there you have it, Gabriel. I don’t know what else to say. What you’ve seen is what you get here at Seelie Court. You should have known that before you came.”

  “You sound frustrated.”

  She shrugged one shoulder and looked down at the table. “Maybe you’re not the only one who is looking for new experiences.”

  He said nothing.

  Finally she looked up to find him staring at her, studying her with eyes far more perceptive than she’d ever imagined. All of a sudden she felt naked sitting there beside him—emotionally naked, anyway.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Maybe you should be considering a court move, not me.”

  She frowned and her spine straightened. “That’s a stupid thing to say. Who would want to go to the Unseelie Court?” She realized only a second after she’d said it that it sounded like an insult to him. “I mean—I’m sorry—”

  He shook his head. “They have truly brainwashed you, haven’t they?”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  He held up a hand. “You didn’t insult or offend me, but you don’t know what you’re saying. I wish I could take you to the Unseelie Court so you could see firsthand the bias and the lies you’ve been told your whole life.” His eyes, so beautiful in their dark blue mystery, flashed dangerously, negating the easy tone he used with her. “Just because someone appears monstrous or has the ability to use magick to draw blood or kill doesn’t make him a monster. That’s something the Seelie have never understood.”

  She pushed away from the table and stood. “Clearly your sympathies lie with the Black Tower. I don’t even know why you want to leave that half of the square.” She paced away from the table, turning her back on him. “The way you talk, it’s like you’re still one of the Shadow King’s subjects, heart, body, and soul.”

  “I lived there a long time, Aislinn. I went to the Shadow King in my late teens, after they’d established the Unseelie Court once Piefferburg was on its feet. Before then, I watched them build it bit by bit, standing out in the square every day and dreaming of the moment I could enter its halls. Once I did enter, I never left. Old habits die hard.”

  She turned. He was standing directly behind her. She hadn’t even heard him stand up. “Sounds like you don’t
really want to leave.”

  A wry smile twisted his lips. “Maybe I don’t.”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “You’re worried about me? I thought you didn’t like me.”

  She smiled. “You grow on a person, Gabriel.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Like a fungus?”

  Her smile widened. “You’re a different person than the one I assumed you were at first.”

  “Hmmm. I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You spoke a little Old Maejian to me on your first day here.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you only know enough to smooth-talk women or are you fluent?”

  “Fluent.” He sounded surprised by her question. “I was taught from the cradle. It’s the language of magick.”

  She nodded, chewing her lower lip.

  He said nothing for several moments, then: “I wish you would just come out and tell me what’s on your mind, but I know you won’t. I know you feel that you can’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you’re more than what people see, Aislinn. I know that somehow, in some way, you’re special.”

  Maybe he had some other magick than sex magick. Maybe he was telepathic. How could he know? She walked toward the living room, fleeing him as much as she could. “Why are you saying that? You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I see more than you think. Don’t worry, your secret, whatever it is, is safe with me. But remember that if you want to confide in someone, I’m here, I’m willing, and I may just be the only person in the Rose Tower you can talk to.”

  “I don’t trust you. Why would I confide in you?”

  He raised an eyebrow and walked toward her, chasing her back into the living room. Suddenly the apartment felt way too small and far too hot. She had to stop herself from taking another retreating step away from him and she really had to stop herself from recalling the kiss they’d shared the other night.

  “You shouldn’t trust me.” His gaze swept her from toe to head.