Scattered Magic (The Sidhe (Urban Fantasy Series) Book 1)

by S A Archer

  Lugh cast a glance up at Danu. She watched, listening to all that was said, but in true Seelie fashion giving nothing but a calm, serene expression. Too peaceful. Too controlled. He knew her too well to miss such obvious signs.

  Manannan continued, “I need you, Champion. I need you to be the final and ultimate protector of the Sidhe. Will you do this for me? For our people?”

  Lugh leveled his attention upon his king. He knew the truth with certainty now, even as he allowed his silence to linger and chill the space between them. Finally, he said, “Though I doubted this victory, Highness, I have never been your enemy.”

  The king feigned surprise. His grip on Lugh’s shoulders tightened. “I have always relied upon your devotion, your dedication.”

  “You never worried young Kaitlin would disrupt this summit. Not to a degree justifying the lengths to which you went. You have been cultivating Riley for this very day for quite some time.” Lugh’s expression remained even, civilized though in truth, this realization cut him. “You jeopardized the princess’ safety to distract me.”

  “She was never in danger. Not with you there to ensure her safety.” Manannan’s voice hardened. “Champion, I know your fidelity extends beyond the service of the Seelie Court, and beyond what even I might task you to do. We might debate my methods at length and with leisure once this day’s labors are done. You say I may trust you, and I am entrusting you now. Allow none to disrupt this ceremony for the consequences would indeed be dire for all involved. Take up your spear once more and be our Champion. Lead the guard as no one but you might. For though you have doubted this day might truly come, it has indeed. Though you doubted the Sidhe could be one people, you have always protested that you hold them all with equal regard. That you would defend the Unseelie as fervently as the Seelie. That when you have represented the Sidhe in negotiation with other races that you have done so with the good of all Sidhe at heart. For you the Sidhe has always been a unified people. Let us today make it so.”

  Lugh raised his face to Danu once more. The Creatrix. The one connected to the realm and all within it. Although loyal to the Seelie Court, its king could not compel Lugh against his will. The All-Mother possessed that power. She merely nodded her assent.

  “I shall lead the guard, as you have asked. For all our people.” Lugh bowed his head to Danu, but pointedly did not offer the same sign of respect to Manannan. He departed to the armory to prepare himself. If the Unseelie Elite did come, and Lugh highly suspected that at least one would, the fey warriors he’d seen manning the watch would not have the strength to subdue them. He loved his people, light and dark alike. If Danu believed a unified court was the path to lasting peace, he would defend it. For his people. For all Sidhe.

  Chapter Twelve

  London retrieved her gun from the settee. She’d not seen them leave it, but there it was. London checked it and then slipped it back into her holster. Fat lot of good it had done her. She must have been insane to let Rico touch her. He was gone, but the lingering sensations from his magic still moved inside her. When she closed her eyes, visions of dark clouds rolled in her mind. The fresh scent of rain clung to her. The pressure of his lips left a ghostly impression of a kiss. Wiping at it didn’t make it fade any faster.

  Rico might be gone physically, but his essence drenched her. Her thoughts tangled in fantasies about him, and she didn’t even like him.

  London scrambled from the parlor. Yards ahead of her, Selena leaned back against the bouncer. His arms circled her, hands absently rubbing at her silk-covered stomach. They had the vibe of casual lovers, but London knew the Mistress controlled all of her men with velvet-lined handcuffs. They loitered at the end of the hall, where they could watch the party inside the club, but were not a part of it. Selena saw London coming and, from the look of it, she hadn’t expected to see her in this state.

  “You let him Touch you?”

  “There was no ‘letting’ involved.” London clutched Selena’s upper arms, demanding. “What did he do, Selena? Huh? You know what he did, don’t you? What happened? What is Rico?”

  Selena brushed off the man’s hands before drawing London back to the privacy of the parlor. She closed the door, cutting off the music from the club.

  London touched her fingers to her lips. Coming back to this room spiraled a mixture of emotions through her belly, making her nauseated like a fun house ride that was never going to end. The kiss hovered ever present on her lips, as if stained by magic. The afterglow of the orgasm buzzed within her, her traitorous body reveling in it even now. At what price, though? What price for this unwanted pleasure?

  Other people got themselves into trouble. She got them out of it. She was not the one who stepped on landmines. She found ways to sidestep them. There had to be a way to sidestep this. There had to be! “Tell me what you know, Selena. Please!”

  “Rico is a Sidhe, one of the noble elves. His boys are fey, too, but not Sidhe. You can’t mistake anyone for the Sidhe once you’ve encountered one.”

  “Sidhe? I thought the Sidhe weren’t around anymore.” London stared at the vampire as realization sunk in. “Oh, don’t tell me. No… No…” She shook her head, refusing to believe, refusing to look at Selena for fear of seeing the truth in her eyes. “No, he did not curse me. No. It is not possible.”

  “London…”

  “I said no, Selena! I won’t have it!”

  “I honestly didn’t think he would Touch you. He’s always dismissed the notion of Touching humans. They aren’t normally to his taste. I can’t imagine why…” she paused, and then tilted her head. “Why did he Touch you?”

  “He wants me to work for him.” She heard the waver in her voice.

  “Work for him? He shouldn’t have cursed you for that. I wouldn’t have turned someone for a quick job. Only if I had long-term plans and couldn’t cajole them any other way.”

  “Not everyone thinks like you, Selena.” London hugged herself. “I feel his power inside me. Feeling all glorious and sexual. Is there no way to get it out?”

  “Getting it out isn’t the problem now. The magic will fade in time. When it does, that is when your trouble will begin.”

  London cut a sharp glance over her shoulder back at Selena. “That ache?”

  “It will only get worse, the longer you’re without the Touch.”

  “Until what?”

  “You commit suicide, most likely. To end the agony.” Selena never sugarcoated things. The vampire’s thin hand squeezed London’s shoulder. “Unless he gives you the Touch again. But each Touch only buys you time. Each time the magic will fade again.”

  London shivered. “Has he Touched you? Is that what was going on earlier?”

  “The Touch does not affect vampires as it does humans.” Selena purred, “Their blood holds magic. The taste is like nothing else. Quite addicting. A younger vampire could turn feral if tempted with it. The fey are intensely succulent, and the Sidhe are the ultimate fey.”

  “Figures.” London sank onto the sofa feeling boneless. Succulent? Addicting? Those words echoed in her brain, knowing from her experience how perfectly they described the Touch. “How long do you think I have? Before this becomes unbearable?”

  “Depends on how much he gave you.”

  “I need to find a cure.”

  “I don’t know of any cure, London. I can make some inquiries.” She stroked London’s hair until she turned toward Selena. The vampire settled weightlessly beside London. “If I turned you…”

  “You know I don’t want that.”

  Selena’s arms loosely circled London’s neck. The vampire kissed her cheek, and sighed. “You will do what you must, London.”

  London slumped against Selena. The vampire’s ice blue eyes were anything but cold. She kissed London. More than friendship, less than lovers.
Selena twisted her fingers in London’s short hair. The vampire whispered. “Do what you need to survive. Whatever it takes.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “The world as we have known it ends this day.” The warriors, men and women both, needed to hear him speak. The grit and determination in his voice carried as much emphasis as the words themselves. Many cut uncertain glances his way, the deep-seated beliefs ground into them over the centuries nearly as much a part of them as their skin and their magic. Lugh patrolled the top of the castle wall, watching the courtyard below. The elaborate breastplate strapped to him served more as a status symbol than actual protection, even with the magicraft worked into the polished leather. He was the Champion of the Sidhe, even for the Sidhe who would sooner slit his throat than call him their champion. It mattered not. He protected his people regardless, most especially from themselves.

  The Sidhe and lesser fey warriors of the Seelie Court spaced themselves at intervals of less than a full arm span. Wood elves, dwarves, selkies, and even a stout-hearted fairy held the line for this final watch, bows, spears, and magic at the ready. Although the technology-embracing world beyond the Mounds long ago abandoned the grace of the bow for guns and other modern weaponry, the long-lived fey of the Mounds shunned such graceless devices.

  “Keep a sharp eye on the barrier.” The canopy of magic reached just beyond the courtyard wall, preventing Glamour or teleportation within the castle grounds. If any fey dreamed to raid the stronghold of the Seelie Court this day, they faced more than simply this entire cadre of fey warriors. They would have to best the Champion of the Sidhe, a near impossible task. For greater than a thousand years, only a handful had ever crossed purposes with Lugh and bested him. A few of these skilled warriors manned the line with Lugh now. Others, such as the greatest of the Unseelie guard, had yet to breach the courtyard threshold. His heart harbored no doubts that at least one would challenge Lugh’s mettle and resolve.

  Lugh cast a proprietary glance across the outer wall to the fey town in the protective shadow of the castle. The hills rolled into the distance. The internal measure of the Mounds roughly equated to Ireland in width and length. Lugh knew every tree, every step of every path. Twice he held the Seelie crown. Since he was a much younger Sidhe, Lugh held the mantle of Champion. He earned it. The very sunlight in the sky was his gift to the Mounds. The Celts once worshiped Lugh as the god of the sun, for in that lay the aspect of Lugh’s unique magic. All the life that grew and prospered in the Mounds did so by the very power of his love for this place and these fey. He would defend it, and them, until his final breath.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jhaer dodged through the local fey crowding the market street of the village built up around the Seelie castle, thankful that his plain, loose-fitting clothing disguised him. Brightly colored streamers from the celebration draped from tree limbs and windows to flutter festively about the revelry. The ale flowed and the music played. Seelie fey of every race danced and sang ancient victory songs, obliviously ignorant that in conquering the Unseelie, they ensured the downfall of all fey.

  Stealth carried Jhaer as far as the courtyard wall and then he unsheathed his fury and magic. With a rage that rent a boulder from the ground, Jhaer’s magic burst forth. His power over the element of earth belonged to him alone, so the boulder that splintered the teak courtyard gate with the explosion of cannon fire announced with certainty the Unseelie Elite who wielded it.

  Anticipating a final assault while the captive Unseelie monarchs imprisoned within succumbed to the pressure to surrender their authority, the Seelie forces lined the top of the inner castle wall beyond the courtyard. Archers drew back at the sight of him, even as the Seelie Champion on the parapet called out to Jhaer. “Jhaer!” Lugh growled, “Bring me your rage, Elite.” The corona of sun magic flared around Lugh, as if determined to prove his nickname as the Shining One. The golden boy of the Seelie Court in his sculpted armor vaulted down into the courtyard with a dramatic flair. If the demonstration of grace and courage aimed to impress, it missed the mark with Jhaer.

  “Lugh! Have you been staring at your own magic so long you’ve blinded yourself?” Jhaer rushed into the courtyard. As the archers launched their first volley, Jhaer summoned a shield of stone from the very ground before him. The rock wall preceded him, the last couple feet at the top tilted back over his head, in case any clever archers aimed with a high trajectory. After the arrows in the initial strike splintered on his shield, Jhaer jerked up his hands, his magic heaving skyward the ground in front of the castle wall to block off the archers. His personal rock shield fragmented into dust that defused to the ground he’d drawn it from. He snarled at Lugh, the sole obstacle between Jhaer and the castle proper. “This must stop! Before it’s too late!”

  “One Court, Sidhe!” Lugh proclaimed. “We can be brothers, you know. This feud can end. It should end!” Yet the Seelie ignited a barrier of fire, disproving his claim of brotherly love.

  Jhaer shielded his face against the fire between them, an all too familiar tactic from the Sidhe with the magical aspect of the sun. “Light and dark cannot merge. One will always consume the other. You know this! Yet the arrogant Seelie’s hunger for power would rather destroy everything than have balance!” With that, Jhaer sank into the ground, closing it up over him.

  Moving swiftly through the earth in a self-contained cavern like an air bubble rising through a viscous liquid that parted the ground before him and resealed it behind him, Jhaer detoured beneath the flames. He felt the vibration from the footsteps of the Seelie above, rushing to pursue him.

  An unexpected tremor charged through the earth and slammed into him, lancing a dread dead into his heart. The Unseelie warrior gripped his chest, breath stolen from him by a horrendous shift in the magic surrounding him. Stunned to the point of panic, Jhaer surfaced once more, the Seelie not but a few quick strides from him. Before a cry of dismay could escape his lips, a shockwave of magic knocked him off balance. A crack climbed up the outer wall like a growing vine, reaching ever higher.

  “Trying to bring down the entire castle?” The Seelie snarled. “Danu is in there!”

  Jhaer stumbled backward before catching himself, his eyes wide as he stared at the fractures creeping up the courtyard walls. “Would I knock myself off balance? Open your eyes, Lugh! Something is wrong!”

  Thunder rumbled like a landslide and then the sky flickered. Or rather the magic that gave the ceiling of the Mounds the appearance of a sky. Both Sidhe warriors relinquished their aggression to witness the cascade of destruction rupturing the fabric of their world. Cracks like a spider’s web shattered the illusion until the great bowl of rock overhead became visible for the first time in as long as any Sidhe could remember.

  Jhaer kept his balance better the next time the ground shifted, although the horror that stabbed through him threatened to drive him to his knees. The thunderous sounds of earth ripping from earth filled the cavern that housed the magical realm of the Mounds. As the ground above them shifted ominously, Jhaer’s hands snapped upward, fingers curled as if gripping something heavy. Trembling from the strain, his mastery over the earth alone supported the bowl of rock overhead.

  “Lugh!” Jhaer growled through clenched teeth, “Help Danu! NOW! I can’t… hold it up… much longer!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cursing the magic that prevented him from teleporting, Lugh found his feet before Jhaer finished speaking. The rock wall Jhaer erected before the castle broke into chunks that slumped without Jhaer’s will binding its shape. Lugh bound over the debris and raced into the castle, even as all others scrambled to flee it. He dodged great chunks of falling plaster as it crashed from the buttresses arching high above the rotunda and grand staircase. The rubble shattered on the marble stairs. Plaster dust floated on the air currents like mist as Lugh cut through. Screams echoed from everywhere. Lesser fey scra
mbled to and fro, but Lugh paid no heed to any of them. He saw no Sidhe. Not one.

  Heart pounding, he used the handrail to catapult himself as he raced up the long, curving stairwell to the second level. No one need tell him where to find the All-Mother. All fey connected to the Mounds possessed a sense of her. No guards manned the watch outside the throne chamber. No bodies strewn about to explain their absence. No blood. No dropped weapons. Fear for friends and lovers kindled behind the greater dread that brought him to a sliding stop on the dust-covered floor just inside the chamber.

  In the center of the oval chamber… a lone woman curled onto her side on the floor. The fine layer of debris dulled the shine of the blond hair draped about her. Her slender back, decorated with premium fey brocade and lace, faced him. Like a finely crafted statue, she remained stone still. Unalive.

  “No,” Lugh exhaled. Utter shock drained the strength right out of him. His spear clattered to the floor with hardly a notice that he’d dropped it. If not for the quake that pitched the building and lurched him forward, he might not ever have broken the paralysis of shock. “Danu…”