The Morrigan's Curse

by Dianne K. Salerni

  “How does scrying work?” Jax asked as Evangeline sat down again in front of the pan of water. “Is it like looking through her eyes, or . . .”

  “No. I should see Addie and her immediate surroundings.”

  “But so far you’ve seen . . .”

  “Nothing when she’s warded. Barriers when she’s using a blocking spell.” Evangeline rubbed her temples, like she was fighting off a headache, and took a deep breath.

  “Is there any way I can help you?” Jax asked. “I know I can’t cast spells . . .”

  “Actually, you can.” She looked up.

  “Help you? Or cast a spell?”

  “Both. Anyone with magical abilities can cast a spell.”

  Technically that was true. Jax had seen Lord Wylit cast a spell that nearly ended the world. But spells were Evangeline’s talent—which meant she did it with more variety and more power than other people. “Then why does Riley say he can’t do spells?” Jax asked.

  “He can,” Evangeline replied. “He helped me repair the Eighth Day Spell on the pyramid, didn’t he?” She glanced toward the window facing the parking lot where Riley was working on his motorcycle with A.J., then whispered to Jax. “The voice of command makes him lazy.”

  Jax grinned. He loved poking fun at Riley, but it was rare for Evangeline to join in.

  “I am fatigued,” she admitted. “If you’re willing, I could really use your strength.”

  “You have to ask?” He sat down beside her. “If I’ve got this talent for information, let me use it.”

  They’d recently discovered that Jax was more than an inquisitor. He’d inherited his father’s talent for compelling people to answer questions, but through a unique set of circumstances, he’d developed an additional ability to pull information out of thin air. This had earned him the right to claim Aubrey, the name his father had used as an alias, as a branch-off Transitioner bloodline.

  “Your talent combines the normal inquisition magic with a sensitivity for information,” Evangeline said. “It blends two categories of magic, which is pretty rare. With some training, you’d probably be good at scrying, but a crash course is all you need to throw your magic in with mine.” She waved her hand at the items on the table. “Symbols are needed to invoke any spell. The pan of water reflects reality. The letter is in Addie’s handwriting, so it’s a connection to her. Saffron traditionally symbolizes clarity of vision.” Evangeline tore a strip off Addie’s letter and gently placed it in the water, where it floated.

  “I’ve never seen you use any symbols when you hurl those invisible fireballs,” Jax said. She’d thrown quite a number of those fighting a wyvern in the Dulac basement last Grunsday, which was only yesterday for her.

  “For that one, I call on the energy of my own body. That’s why I can’t hold it long or do it very often without . . .”

  “Getting weak and pale and tired?” Jax didn’t mention the shadowy smudges under her eyes, but she gave him an insulted glare, so he said, “Symbols, got it. Plus, you mumble gibberish.”

  “I prefer Welsh, because that’s the way my father taught me, but English works, too. The words focus your concentration and magic.” She held out the container of saffron. “Put a strand on your tongue, but don’t swallow it. I’m going to cast the spell and draw on your strength to support me.”

  She took a strand of saffron for herself and held out her hand, which Jax clasped tightly. While Evangeline whispered her Welsh words, he leaned over the pan, willing Addie Emrys to appear in the water—preferably standing in front of a recognizable landmark.

  Adelina Emrys, where are you?

  To his surprise, the water grew cloudy, and the reflection of the hotel ceiling tiles above them faded into something else. Jax didn’t know what, exactly. It was a rough, white surface that might have been part of a wall. He stared until his eyeballs burned, feeling the buzz of magic transferring from his hand to his liege’s. Finally, Evangeline gasped and sat back, letting go of him. The image faded.

  Jax blinked and rubbed his eyes. “What was that?”

  Evangeline gave him a tired but triumphant grin. “That, Jax, was my sister defending herself. She’s not behind wards right now, and what we saw is something she’s projecting at us, trying to block our view of her. Give me a chance to recover, and we’ll do it again. Let’s see if we can wear her out.”

  Jax was worried about Evangeline wearing herself out, but he didn’t argue. Evangeline rested only a few minutes before removing the soaked strip of paper from the pan and replacing it with another. They each took more saffron and joined hands.

  When the water clouded and cleared, Jax got a close look at what Addie was using as a mental barrier. It was something different this time: white, painted boards that were definitely part of a building. The image was so vivid, he could see the grain of the wood and the chips in the paint. Elated, he squeezed Evangeline’s hand and concentrated on breaking through that wall to the girl behind it.

  Then the white of the boards exploded like a supernova searing through his brain.

  3

  EVANGELINE SCREAMED AND YANKED her hand away from Jax. Blackness rushed in over the blinding white, and something hard struck the back of Jax’s head.

  He wasn’t sure if it was seconds or minutes before he realized what had hit him. The floor. I hit the floor. His head throbbed, his stomach heaved, and he tasted blood. Tentatively, he tried to move various body parts and felt a strange tingling in his limbs.

  “Jax, can you hear me?” That was Mrs. Crandall’s voice.

  “Jax?” And Riley’s.

  He opened his eyes, then groaned and squinted. It was too bright. And he was wet. Remembering the taste of blood, he sat up in alarm. “Easy there,” said Mrs. Crandall.

  Jax checked himself. He wasn’t covered in blood. The pan of water had overturned on him. Evangeline must have knocked it off the table to break the connection. Evangeline . . . He looked around worriedly.

  Riley was kneeling beside Jax, holding Evangeline. Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open, and she looked as bad as Jax felt.

  “Take her to her room,” Mrs. Crandall instructed Riley. “A.J.’s got Jax.”

  Jax felt hands under his armpits. A.J. hauled him toward one of the motel beds, while Riley carried Evangeline to an adjoining door.

  Mrs. Crandall looked Jax over, but apparently decided Evangeline needed her more, and disappeared through the doorway. Seconds later, Riley was expelled from the neighboring room with a shove, and Mrs. Crandall shut the door in his face. Riley turned to Jax. “What happened? She was supposed to be resting! Why’d you let her get up?”

  “I couldn’t force her to take a nap, Riley.” Jax probed his tongue with his fingers. He must’ve bitten it when his head struck the floor. “So I was helping her. Then it felt like we were hit by lightning.” He sucked in his breath. “That’s what the Llyrs do, isn’t it? Throw lightning?”

  “Among other things,” Riley scowled as he picked up the pan and the overturned chairs. He folded what was left of Addie’s letter and stuffed it into his duffel bag. “I’m going to keep this for now,” he said. “I don’t want her scrying again.”

  Mrs. Crandall returned a few minutes later with a report. “She has a raging migraine and she’s exhausted. I’ve got her lying in the dark with a cold compress.” When Riley headed for Evangeline’s door, Mrs. Crandall stopped him. “Leave her be. She needs to sleep.”

  Mrs. Crandall made Jax lie down too and put a cold washcloth on his forehead. She shut the curtains to darken the room and threw Riley and A.J. out. She told Jax to sleep, but once the pain subsided to a dull ache, he didn’t feel like it. Twice, he reached for the TV remote before remembering there was no TV on Grunsday. Nothing with a computer chip worked today, and the only reason they had electricity in the motel was because A.J. had broken into the utility room and fired up the emergency generators.

  So Jax stared at the ceiling, wondering how they were going to rescue a girl w
ho didn’t want to be rescued. She didn’t seem like a very nice girl, either. Not just because her Llyr buddies had zapped him, but also because of what Jax had read in Addie’s letter to her Transitioner foster parents, the Carroways, before Evangeline started ripping it up for the scrying spell. It’d been three pages of complaints written to people who’d given her a home for thirty-five years. Well, only five years for Addie, but it was still a lousy way to say thanks.

  Jax threw off the washcloth, which was no longer cold. He hated to admit it, but Addie’s letter reminded him of the way he’d complained to his dad about unfair bedtimes, video games he wanted but didn’t get, and all the business trips that took his dad away from home and left Jax with a babysitter. He’d said stuff he wished he could take back, now that his dad was dead and it was too late.

  He’d had a lot of complaints about Riley, too. A few months ago, Jax might’ve written a letter at least as long as Addie’s, listing all the things he hated about his guardian. But the truth was he was going to miss Riley in the fall, when he went to live with Billy Ramirez.

  Riley had made that arrangement last weekend, after calling Mrs. Ramirez and offering to pick up her son from golf camp on the pretense of giving Billy and Jax a day together. In reality, Billy had never been to golf camp. He’d been kidnapped by Jax’s relatives, the Dulacs and the Ambroses, and held as a hostage to make Jax turn himself over to them.

  Mrs. Ramirez knew nothing about the kidnapping, but she thought Riley was an irresponsible slacker, so he’d had to use his voice of command to convince her to let him drive Billy anywhere. Once they brought Billy home, though, Riley didn’t use any magic on the Ramirezes. Instead, he was polite and respectful and explained his dilemma: He was taking a new job that would require him to move around a lot, and he was worried about where Jax would go to school in the fall. Parts of the story had even been true.

  As Riley had hoped, Billy’s parents immediately offered to take Jax in so that he wouldn’t have to switch schools for a second year in a row. Mrs. Ramirez even commended Riley on his new maturity. “Jax has had a positive influence on you,” she said.

  That remark had left Riley utterly speechless. Jax shook with laughter. Mr. Ramirez hid his smile behind his hand, and Billy had looked puzzled. Billy thought Riley was perfect.

  In fact, Billy thought the best thing that had ever happened to him was getting sworn on as Riley’s vassal. “Any orders?” Billy had asked before they left, looking up at his liege lord with hero worship. At that point, between the Grunsday when they’d narrowly missed Addie at the Dulacs and this one, they had still hoped to rescue her before the enemy Kin took her from the New York City area.

  “Research,” Riley said. “I’ve filled you in on everything we know about the Kin who helped the Llyrs escape Oeth-Anoeth, which I know isn’t much. Just the aircraft and weaponry they had, when they arrived in Wales, when they left . . . If you can find clues to any further sightings online . . .”

  “Got it,” Billy replied briskly.

  “Be careful,” Jax cautioned him, remembering his own online encounter with a bank robber masquerading as a Transitioner. “There are some shady sites out there and people who aren’t who they say they are.”

  “Duh, Jax,” Billy replied, making an Are-you-kidding? face. “Everyone knows that.”

  Riley shot Jax an amused look but didn’t embarrass him by mentioning Jax’s notorious lapse in internet safety. Jax consoled himself by remembering that this was a bogus assignment. Billy wouldn’t find anything about Kin online. They lived off the grid with no access to modern technology. Riley was humoring Billy so he could feel like he was making a contribution.

  The unfortunate reality was that they were going to have to depend on the Morgans—or worse, the Dulacs—to track down the Llyrs, and that worried Jax. Not only might Addie get hurt in any resulting conflict between the Transitioners and the Kin, but who knew what the Llyrs would do to Addie if she didn’t cooperate with them. He had not forgotten how Lord Wylit had threatened and injured Evangeline, trying to force her compliance with his evil plans.

  And now Evangeline’s scrying spell, their one hope of locating Addie quickly and efficiently, had proved itself very dangerous.

  As Jax stared at the motel room ceiling, the plaster tiles puckered. A small brown-and-white blur fell from above and landed on his bed.

  Jax sat up and grabbed his honor blade, waving it defensively at an animal the size of a large rat with a flat face and no tail. The fur on its body was brown, with a tuft of white that stuck up from its head. In its slender hands it held a ball of red-and-white fabric. “You!” Jax gasped, lowering his dagger when he recognized the creature. “What are you doing here?”

  The brownie darted forward and dropped a balled-up pair of socks in Jax’s lap. Jax picked them up, lifted a foot, and compared the red stripe on the socks he was wearing to the ones in his hand. “Are these mine? Where’d you get—”

  Then it hit him. When he’d gone to New York to trade himself for Billy, he’d brought a change of clothes in a backpack. His aunt, Marian Ambrose, had searched that backpack and—because she was the strangest mix of motherliness and villainy that Jax had ever met—laundered all his clothes, balling up his socks in just this way. “Did you use these socks to track me here?”

  The brownie’s round ears rotated like radar dishes. He cocked his head, and the tuft of white fur bobbed comically.

  “You’re Stink, aren’t you?” Jax’s relatives had all complained about the pet brownie his father had kept as a teenager. It had run amok in their building, turning up in people’s kitchens and digging through the trash. Jax had felt a connection to this brownie from the moment he’d laid eyes on him and released him from the Dulac holding pens.

  Jax reached out and scratched the top of the creature’s head. “Are you an orphan now, too?” Maybe Stink was looking for a new owner. “C’mere.” He held out his arm. Stink latched on with his spidery hands and clambered up to Jax’s shoulder.

  Outside, the pink Grunsday sky was darkening into a purple evening, and the dim light didn’t hurt Jax’s head so much. He walked across the parking lot to where Riley was wiping his hands with an oily cloth and staring at the window of Evangeline’s room. A.J. saw Jax approaching. “Ugh! Where’d that come from?”

  “Meet Stink,” said Jax. “He was my dad’s pet.”

  “Don’t tell me you inherited him.” A.J. made a face.

  Riley chucked the dirty rag into his toolbox and addressed the brownie directly. “You want to hang out with Jax, that’s fine. But stay away from his liege lady unless you like getting squashed with a broom.”

  Stink bobbed his head and scurried around to Jax’s other shoulder.

  Jax narrowed his eyes at Riley. Last Grunsday, Stink had snatched a gun from Jax’s uncle before he could shoot Riley. A little while later, a crowd of brownies had lured a wyvern into attacking Ursula Dulac instead of its intended victim—Riley. At the time, Jax thought the brownies were out to get Ursula, but he suddenly realized that saving Riley’s life might have been their real priority. “Okay. What kind of arrangement do you and the brownies . . .” Then he froze, staring past his guardian and over the roof of the motel. “What’s that?”

  There was a dark, blotchy cloud in the purple sky. “Smoke?” suggested Riley. “Fire?”

  Jax shook his head. Every hair on his body was standing on edge, and an icy coldness swept over him. “It’s a storm. Coming this way.”

  “Can’t be,” said A.J. “There’s no weather on Grunsday.”

  “We’re dealing with Llyrs, A.J.” Riley held up a hand for his friend to be quiet. “Jax? What do you know?”

  Jax’s fingers twitched toward the honor blade sheathed at his waist, seeking information. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Let’s not panic over nothing,” said A.J.

  “Pack up,” Riley snapped. “This is Jax’s talent. If he says we have to get out of here, we get out!”
r />   4

  JAX GRABBED ALL THEIR possessions out of the motel room, stuffing them into Riley’s duffel bag without any regard to whether they were his, A.J.’s, or Riley’s. Then he ran outside just as Riley was helping Evangeline into the Land Rover and A.J. was tying down Riley’s motorcycle in the back of his truck.

  What had been only a thumbprint in the sky had grown to fill the horizon, with clouds that looked like they’d been finger-painted by an angry preschooler. The temperature had dropped, and a wind was rising.

  Jax climbed into the Land Rover beside Evangeline, who recoiled at the sight of Stink on his shoulder. The brownie leaped into the cushions of the rear seat and vanished. Evangeline rubbed her eyes. “I’m worse off than I thought,” she said. “I’m hallucinating brownies.”

  “You’re not hallucinating,” Riley said, backing the Land Rover away from the motel. “Jax has a new pet.”

  Jax ran his fingers over the seat cushions. The spot where Stink had disappeared was spongy, and he pushed into it. His hand vanished as if it were cut off at the wrist. Stink had created a brand new brownie hole inside the car. Jax couldn’t resist. He shoved his head in.

  The hole didn’t lead to a tunnel like the ones in the Dulac building. Instead, it was more like a pocket of tunnel material, which was a crinkly, translucent substance that seemed to be made of pure magic. From inside the brownie hole, Jax could see the car all around him, but Evangeline and Riley weren’t visible, and through the windows—nothing, just blankness. Jax was inside the car but outside of time. There was no sign of Stink. He jumped to somewhere else!

  A hand gripped the back of Jax’s shirt and yanked him out. “Are you crazy?” Evangeline exclaimed. “We’re in a moving car! What if your head got left behind?”

  “My head was still inside the car,” Jax protested. “I’m experimenting, to figure these things out.”