by Conn, Claudy
The black magic was changing me, altering my mind patterns. I thought in black magic, not Seelie magic … and at times it was disconcerting and difficult to control. He watched me more and more, and sometimes I almost felt his loathing.
“Gaiscioch, you need to stop using black magic. It is addictive, and it can swallow you up and spit you out empty and useless. I need you to focus on the job at hand—getting the hell out of here and entering the human World. It is all I have ever wanted, and I will have it with or without you, so pull yourself together.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!”
“Why, because you are a Seelie?” Pestale scoffed. “I am a Royal—my father’s blood flows through me. My father’s teachings are a part of all that I am.”
“And you are still an abomination, created outside the Wheel of Being!” I spat at him, and for a moment as he took a menacing step my way I believed we would come to blows. It was a useless activity, and I wished I had held my tongue.
He inclined his head. “As you say, and yet still a Royal, which you are not.”
I stared at him. He was an arrogant devil, and he was right … he was a Royal with Royal powers given to him by the Dark King. If Morrigu was to be believed, Pestale had apparently been his father’s favorite until he had tried to seduce the Dark King’s human mate.
That was the end of their relationship.
Morrigu had told me Pestale’s story during one of her lucid moments. Apparently he had been merely playing, intrigued beyond his control, nothing more, he told the Dark King. However, his father turned his back on Pestale, not because he had tried to seduce Crystal but because he had harmed her during the process when she tried to escape him.
He watched me now, his black, penetrating gaze as always hidden by his half shaded eyes. His brothers lesser than he were completely obedient to his will. He was an enemy I didn’t need.
“I wonder, Gaiscioch, are you holding out on me?” Pestale’s voice was low and lined with cunning. “However, you will have to share the particular spell you are trying to use so that I might be able to … alter it to fit the needs of the portal.”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary.”
“Then you will not succeed.” Pestale shrugged. “No matter—I have given the situation a great deal of thought and believe I have a solution … at least for me and my brothers.”
“Indeed.” I had noticed Pestale’s emerging dominant behavior.
“Yes, we are Unseelie and, as I have pointed out, Royals, while you, Gaiscioch, are merely Seelie.”
I heard something threatening in his tone but casually inclined my head for him to proceed.
The Dark Prince smiled at me, but there was a touch of menace in that smile. “The portal is being spelled to allow lower-caste Unseelies to escape, which is a useless effort at this juncture. However, if it were altered and managed, I do believe my brothers and I would be able to use it, and our army would follow us through. That would be a much better solution as we, my brothers and I, are not interested in just feeding … in fact, under my tutelage I believe my brothers could manage three separate divisions of Unseelie soldiers.”
“That is not part of my plan,” I couldn’t stop myself from snapping at him.
“Perhaps not, but your plan isn’t moving fast enough. We need to move at Samhain when magic is at its strongest, especially for us. You won’t get out by then … not the way you are working. Your scope is too limited.”
“I disagree.”
“Nevertheless, and again as I have pointed out to you, with or without your help, I shall make an effort to use the portal and do some earthly scouting before I lead a division of my Unseelies forward.” Pestale’s tone told me he had already discovered a mode of escape.
I decided not to answer as I shrugged and left him. How had he accomplished this? What had I done? Had I showed him the way? And now I had a dangerous enemy. I heard Pestale’s laughter at my back. Here was one more Dark Fae that needed killing …
In the meantime, Pestale didn’t know that I had the Mirror fragment. I had managed to send it through to Inverness as a test. My mistake was that the Unseelies went for the schoolyard instead of the empty warehouse they had been directed to lead it to.
Feeding is all they think about. I should have known better than to entrust the mirror to them. They were merely to lead it, as it was spelled to follow. Their puny minds obviously couldn’t comprehend the larger picture—all they knew was that tender children were nearby for the slaughter.
The Mirror fragment was easily retrieved, but it was an experiment I had desperately wanted to conclude. I’d wanted to see if I could travel through the fragment to and from its counterpart—the remaining mirror on this side.
The main body of the Mirror stood hidden in Morrigu’s bedchamber. I believed she had even forgotten it was there.
Perhaps I was going about it all wrong? Perhaps all I needed to do was shift once I was within the main Mirror’s aura and then take the fragment with me as I stepped out?
Then I could use it to bring over as many abominations as I chose …
I didn’t want to waste the Daoine’s blood. I knew that Radzia’s blood would open the portal for me. Daoine blood—that was the Dark King’s failsafe, his key ingredient to everything he did. He had nothing to fear, as he was the only Daoine in the Dark Realm. There wasn’t enough to test my theory. If only I had enough of her blood …
“You are a brilliant Fae,” I told myself. One of the odd traits I acquired in the Dark Realm was the one in which I talked to myself. I tried to catch it and put a stop to it, for it was beneath me and, yet, somehow comforting.
Returning to Morrigu’s orb, I slowly moved my hand over the glowing glass, and the fog within its diameter began to clear.
Everything was falling into place. I knew that the warlock would draw them. He was my best chance of getting what I needed, so to clinch the arrangement I gave him the Hallow. By now they should be there … ah, just as I thought.
Danté and the Daoine princess. From her expression, I could see she was surprised by the warlock’s appearance and wondering how much power he really did have.
I could taste something bitter coming up my throat …
Hate—hate had a flavor and a force that was pulsing in me—I had to be careful lest it take over. I had to make certain my warlock was successful. “Aaron … do you hear me?” I had set up a link between us, but because I was stuck here in the Dark Realm, I was not able to perfect the link and couldn’t always get through. “Aaron …”
“Yes, yes, my lord, my king,” Aaron’s mind answered me fervently, and I felt excitement tense my body.
“You remember what you need to do?”
“Yes. Everything you asked of me will be done.”
Perhaps the warlock would be successful; perhaps he would be able to get the blood with the Seelie Hallow I had given him.
Wait—what is that? I felt the pull. He had opened the Mirror with the Hallow. I hadn’t been sure he would be able to do it … but there I saw her in the Mirror. Today, I thought triumphantly, I will get her blood. Today Radzia MacDaun, Daoine Princess, will be cut and bleeding, and I will gather her blood and use it to get out of the Dark Realm. But in the meantime, I first had to make certain Pestale was occupied.
I had used the voice of compulsion on the warlock—he could not disobey me. I could feel his fear, but I’d ordered him to be brave—he had no choice, and I needed him to throw them off balance with his behavior.
“Warlock … get to her … stab her with the sacred knife I have given you and get her blood smeared on the Hallow—now!”
* * *
Aaron Dunbar turned, and I suppose the curving of his lips was meant to represent a smile. Then he said my name, “Radzia … finally.”
“You don’t get to speak her name!” Danté stepped towards him.
I touched Danté’s arm. We needed to observe him a bit longer, for something was off he
re; something was seriously off.
I couldn’t help but stare at Aaron. What the hell had happened to him in such a short span of time? He stood there a completely different person than the one I knew and had spent time with—he was almost unrecognizable.
He looked all distorted; the black tattoos covering his neck and face looked three-dimensional, and black veins streamed up his neck like snakes. Ugh, ooh, don’t like snakes.
When he spoke, it was in the voice of many. Danté whispered, “He speaks as one with warlocks that have moved onto another plain. Apparently he has won their support as a whole, and that is what is making him so powerful.”
“Warlocks are black magic, and black magic is nothing against white magic, and both are nothing against Royal Seelie magic,” I said, just a bit too cocksure. My father had taught me that so long ago. Reminding me of my father’s words helped to ease the insecurity Dunbar’s appearance made me feel. It was time to bring Aaron Dunbar down. I took a step forward in the warlock’s direction, but Danté held my arm and pulled me back.
“Wait … I have something for him,” Danté said on a hard and very ferocious note.
“What?” I teased on a whisper, just trying to lighten the moment, trying to assuage my fears. “Are you going to throw a thunderbolt like they do in the movies?”
“As a matter of fact,” Danté said gravely, “yes.”
And much to my complete and utter amazement, a wild look came over Danté, and even the sneer he wore from ear to ear did not mar his handsome face as he proceeded to do just that. From both of his outstretched hands a ball of fire erupted and made a straight path of lightning that went for and hit Aaron with fully charged electricity.
I still hadn’t gotten over my surprise at this ability Danté obviously owned when my mouth dropped open even further—the warlock absorbed the electricity and made two shaking fists at us. He appeared totally unharmed and in fact seemed more angry than afraid. Now, that was disturbing.
I really was bereft of speech as Danté snorted irritably and shifted, leaving me standing there not sure what to do, thinking we were not getting off to a good start.
I am impulsive, and although I love plans, I usually end up making them from moment to moment. Here was a situation that needed some thought, but there was no time. We had a warlock that could absorb thunderbolts! Damn, that was trouble, and what the hell was my Danté doing now?
And then I realized. It wasn’t Aaron that was superman all at once. It wasn’t because he was a powerful warlock. It was because he was holding an ancient Seelie Relic in one of his closed hands, and apparently my quick-thinking prince had realized this at once. What to do? Okay, what to do?
And then Rolo said, “Sister … it has been a long time.”
And the Seelie Relic whispered, “Brother.”
All at once, things didn’t seem so dire. Sister—brother? That was good, right?
Danté didn’t know about the Hallows being related, and he had already moved menacingly as his shift had brought him face to face with the warlock.
I noticed that while Dunbar appeared startled, he still was not frightened. In fact, he started to laugh.
Oh—Danté would not like that. I hurriedly sent him a mental message about the Hallows and was relieved to see him smile.
However, he still seemed to want to engage the warlock in hand-to-hand, and we didn’t have time for that. “Danté, wait!” I shouted as I shifted and pushed Danté out of the way just as the warlock brought up the Relic and whispered a chant in ancient Gaelic.
I heard Rolo call out, “Sister … no!”
And then the spell that the warlock used with the aid of the Hallow hit me like a charging and enraged bull determined to bring down anything in its path, and it did. I was flung into the air, but as I went down I reached out and grabbed hold of Dunbar’s clothing and, hot damn, if I didn’t bring him down with me!
Pain shot through my body, and it wasn’t the result of the fall. Dunbar had jabbed me with something …
And suddenly the world began to spin, and my body was assaulted with fire. It burned through my veins, and I heard Danté scream out my name. Even in the haze I was lapsing into, I could see Danté pummel Dunbar as he lay on his back beside me. I was accosted with more pain than I had ever experienced in my life. I’d had some headaches in my time, but nothing like the stabbing pain that shot through my head and into my eyes. Pressure squeezed at my temples, something had punched me in the gut, and I didn’t want to puke in front of Danté … but there was a moment when I thought I was going to do just that.
All this while, I held my head because I thought it was about to split in two, while Danté—Danté beat the shit out of Dunbar. I saw it, and for a moment I managed a smile, and then …
And then everything went black.
* * *
The orb was beginning to cloud over. Lately it had been cutting itself off from the images I sought. Sometimes I thought I heard it say, “Gaiscioch may have no more …”
Orbs are odd and uncontrollable, loyal usually to only their maker and the person they are gifted to. This orb was made by the Dark King and given to Morrigu. It was beginning to shut me out more and more as though it knew I didn’t have permission, but even so, I caught the last of the images: the warlock stabbing the Daoine, and Danté jumping at him, but not before the warlock collected her blood on the knife. And then, just as I had spelled it in advance to do, the knife with her blood came back to me. I had it—I had the Daoine’s blood!
Her blood was the key to everything, and soon I would test it. Hurriedly, I stored it away and shifted outside Morrigu’s bedroom door.
I needed to know where Pestale was before I worked the Mirror with the Daoine’s blood. I didn’t want him walking in on me.
I knew where he usually was these days. It was as though he couldn’t get enough. His relationship with Morrigu was a wonder to me. He seemed to care for her, but how could he when he was a Dark Fae … without emotion of any kind?
Yet—I had seen him treat her with ‘understanding’ if not actual tenderness, and he did not need to do so.
I had no time for that as I purposely slammed the door open and walked in to find … exactly what I expected: Pestale there, taking his pleasure with Morrigu. Perfect.
They both heard me and looked around even as he still pounded into her and she groaned with pleasure and fell back down against the mattress.
I pretended to be jealous and shouted, “Ah, Morrigu—you say you love me, and yet here you are … hurting me to the quick!”
“No … no, do not say so, Gaiscioch. Come then … join us,” she said, lifting her beautiful, hateful head and directing her gaze, her mad gaze at me.
“Share you with him …? Never!” I answered, making a good show of it before I turned and slammed the door shut after me.
There, now I could be private with the Daoine’s blood and my portal …
* * *
The first thing I heard was Danté’s beautiful voice in that sexy accent of his, calling me. He sounded so far away as I reached out my hand for him and felt him take my fingers in his and kiss them.
He had been running his hands over my body, filling me with warmth and healing power. I heard him whisper something about a knife wound … a knife wound? Ah, I had been stabbed with a knife, and evidently it had been laced with Danu poison.
Danté’s dear face was out of focus, but I reached for it all the same and managed to touch his cheek.
“Hush now, little love … he used Danu dust to make the poison. It has made you momentarily ill and caused you pain … harmful, but it is not fatal. The question is why? He used the warlock to draw us here, I think for this, but why?” He looked away from me and added, “And I have not found the knife … somehow Gais has retrieved the knife.”
“Dunbar knifed me!” I said because it was so shocking. “Danté, the knife must have been covered with my blood … where is it?” I looked at the warlock’s unconscious,
bloodied, and battered body.
“It is gone, my Z … Gais has it,” Danté answered, and a puzzled expression came over his face.
“Why?”
“He must need Daoine blood … your Royal Daoine blood.”
“This can’t be good.” I sighed, still feeling like puking my guts out but holding back.
“The Dark King was a Daoine Royal before he evolved—all his relics would respond to Daoine blood. Gais has found a way to release himself to this Realm by using your blood.”
“Oh, Danté … the prophecy has begun. We didn’t know it would start with my blood.” I shook my head. “Now what?”
“We consign Dunbar to a place of keeping where the queen can have the Trackers question him.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “Yes, question him.” I still felt woozy as I looked at Aaron Dunbar and snorted. “He looks dead—how can they question him?”
Dante grinned and with a soft chuckle said, “Because he is not dead.” And then he pulled me into his arms, and his hand continued to heal me.
There we sat on the damp grass beneath the Grampian Mountains, until I remembered and asked, “Well then … what now, shouldn’t we send him off before he comes to?”
“He will be unconscious until the queen revives him. He isn’t dead, as I said, but nearly.”
We both looked at Aaron Dunbar, who was a bloody mess.
“Send him now … quickly, send him to the queen,” I whispered, because even though Dunbar was a warlock, he was also human. I didn’t want Danté punished for killing him, and I was worried that Dunbar might just die in the next few moments.
“Yes, enfant.” He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Have I ever told you that you are a bossy little thing?”
“And the Sister Hallow? Do you have it safe?” It was amazing, but my wound was gone, my nausea was gone, and I was feeling fit and ready to go.
