Return of the Starchild (The Divine Inheritance Series Book 1)

by Catriona Murphy

  Iliana studied her hesitant expression.

  ‘It sounds like you may not have just healed him. You may have made him your Familiar.’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘It’s not even supposed to exist anymore,’ she said dismissively, looking down at her potatoes as another plopped into the pot. ‘It’s unheard of, really.’

  ‘What’s a Familiar?’

  Zoe leaned back and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘It’s only been mentioned in stories or tales, but apparently only those with strong faerie blood could take on a Familiar. And the Familiar is an animal that the individual forms a special bond with, a kinship of sorts for when the person practises magick.’

  Iliana’s ears prickled.

  ‘And of course, when the bond is sealed, it is usually because the person has made the conscious choice to take on a Familiar. However, in this case, it seemed to have happened unpredictably. Perhaps you made the decision unconsciously, perhaps he made it for you. What I really think though, is that you formed a bond with him, because I think whether you knew it or not, you chose him. You chose him, because you saw something of yourself in him.’

  ‘How does he help me with magick?’

  ‘That I don’t know. And there’s no books to my knowledge in the library on Familiars. It’s such an ancient concept. As old as the standing stones, maybe even older still.’

  Iliana visualised tribespeople and witch doctors doing spells by firelight with a rabbit, or a bird nearby.

  ‘How do you know that he’s my Familiar?’

  ‘You carry a mark on you that you didn’t have before.’

  Zoe being specific as always. Iliana asked, ‘What kind of mark?’

  Zoe studied her for a long time, her greying eyes searching. ‘The kind that tells me Clio is yours, and you are his.’

  Iliana didn’t want to admit it, but Zoe’s words frightened her. ‘Is it a good or bad thing?’

  ‘Has its advantages, you will certainly be safer with him. But he will also attract poachers once news gets around the last Roarax has left the reservation, and is flying around the Otherworld. But he has healed now, and will not stay under my protection.’

  ‘I’ll kill anyone who comes near him.’ Iliana said reflexively; they were the kind of words she didn’t need to think about before saying.

  ‘I believe you.’

  Zoe stood and leaned over. ‘Welcome to the Otherworld, my darling.’ With a smile.

  After dinner, Branson retired to the front porch for a cigar and whiskey while Cinderella disappeared back to her room. Despite disliking the girl, Iliana found her to be mysterious and aloof.

  ‘Does she ever talk?’ Iliana asked from the kitchen table, while Zoe laid the dirty dishes into a large sink.

  ‘Yes, when discussing tasks. She’s efficient and does everything she’s told without complaint.’ Iliana didn’t like the emphasis she hinted on the last two words, and pursued regardless.

  ‘She doesn’t talk to me.’

  ‘You don’t talk to her.’

  ‘Where is she from?’

  ‘A small town near the coast to the east. Her family sent her away for involving herself in a relationship with a young man that was deemed scandalous and embarrassing.’

  Iliana’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, and it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to her.’ Zoe wiped the dishes dry. ‘When I said the winds are changing Iliana, I meant it.’

  ‘I know,’ Iliana dropped her dish into the sink. ‘It’s time for me to leave.’

  ‘The two moons call.’

  ‘They’ve been calling for a while,’ she replied in a small voice, feeling the strength that had gathered within her move restlessly now, anxious to be off.

  Iliana had been thinking of how to tell Zoe she was going to leave, but unsurprisingly the wizened woman knew already.

  ‘I’m planning to go to Faerie HQ first, I know some faeries there who may be able to help me in tracking Terrence down if he isn’t there already,’ she said. Seeking revenge for Zelda’s death pressed on her, but she heeded Zoe’s words of caution about going after the Lady of the Lake alone. It pained her to leave her best friend at the woman’s mercy, but finding her parents, her family wherever they were, was a burning urge that had shadowed most of her existence. Besides, with Terrence and the Temple of Stars by her side, she may have a fairer chance in setting her best friend free, along with the other tortured souls residing under the bottom of the lake.

  ‘There’s nowhere else that I can think of,’ she said. She meant to add another comment but stopped, as something lodged inside of her, a confirmation she was receiving like a text message. ‘And...Clio will be coming with me.’

  ‘We are the choices that we make,’ Zoe said wearily, putting the plates away in a cupboard. ‘The fabric of our lives stem from the roots that are our decisions. But always remember, it’s never too late to change your mind, or to steer in a new direction.’

  Iliana heard a softness in her tone.

  She held Iliana’s eyes in a way only Zoe could muster, in an all-wisdom, peaceful conveyance. ‘Cecile, your family. Do not let these influence your decisions so much. Iliana, don’t let your past rule your present after you leave.’

  Iliana’s jaw jutted out at the statement. ‘I won’t leave Zelda with that bitch.’

  She stormed out of the kitchen, not wanting to risk a fight with the Mother Abundant, although she felt Zoe’s all-seeing eyes seep into her back as she left.

  Chapter Nine

  02/04/4018

  p708 Entry No. 49 (Code Status of facility: blue)

  The subjects Gretta and I created had to be disposed of - quickly and cleanly. She expressed doubts into my arrangement with this mysterious, otherworldly creature whom I’ve continued to stay in regular contact with. I assured her that we would receive what we need soon. My assigned tasks from our arrangement have been completed, and I await further instruction for my ultimate ingredient as I toil away on concepts of a new project. This will be godlike in all its glory.

  Gretta told me she desired a place in our new world, not as a researcher, but as someone in position of influence, she brushed the back of my hand as she did so and smiled. She must know that I do not desire her sex, but she continued to seduce me with typical feministic charms. She would talk of this new world for hours, eyes glazed over with obsession like some religious zealot, inviting me on more than one occasion back to her pod. I refused outrightly but I catch her sometimes watching me with the fever of a Blue Ink Daisy in spring time.

  Security Bridge has been monitoring the ‘Limpers’ movements near Quadrant D and I hear that all is well. The ‘Limpers’ was a term apparently coined during the earlier cycles of infection and I suppose over time, it has stuck. The name describes what was once a person and now shuffles from place to place in a constant catatonic state, their limbs shake as well as though experiencing waves of seizures. Unclosing red eyes always searching desperately for a living organism healthier than its own; a perfect host.

  If our historical accounts are correct, the infection initialised through an animal biteresulted in a catastrophic epidemic that spread at a rate too fast to control. The result is eighty percent of a world’s population been reduced to drooling, trembling maniacs. It’s troubling times like these that make me work all the harder for that cure, and I believed the comet to be the answer, but now I perceive there to be a second choice. And I will take it as far as I can go.

  - M.B

  S

  eamus leaned to one side of his throne, feigning off the tempting vestiges of sleep. The shadows had returned the night before and danced along the walls of his bed chamber, their presence was becoming more persistent as each night passed.

  Before him in chains was a captured pawn of the Order of the Second Dawn. When it became clear to him that progress on the Hannelsford prison case had come to a complete standstill, Seamu
s himself decided to intervene. He always was a more of a hands-on monarch in comparison to his former predecessors.

  Detective Wolfe shoved the man in manacles down onto his knees. His face smiled dazedly like a child, eyes gleamed dreamily and Seamus wondered did he know where he was.

  ‘Tell me what it is you know, or my guard here may need to pry the information from your flesh. I’m not below committing such acts in the splendour of my palace.’

  The man only grinned dumbly back, eyes glazed. ‘The Phoenix is my saviour; the Phoenix is my saviour…’ And on it went.

  Seamus stood, feeling impatient, and began to slowly descend the steps that led up to his throne. His footsteps echoed off the many columns that forested the hall like standing sentries, and on the walls hung banners that represented the various organisations of the Otherworld that strove to keep the peace – the crescent moon of the faerie guard, the four-pointed star of the Temple of Stars, the Watch with its eagle and other faculties.

  Seamus clasped his hands behind his back and calmly walked around the prisoner, then knocked him to the ground.

  If the guards stationed around the perimeter were shocked they didn’t show it, expressions impassive to the unusual hearing in the throne room.

  The drooling delinquent began to crawl away from the king; his chains rattled and scraped the floor as he dragged himself.

  ‘The Phoenix will rise. Our Prophet has already Seen it, the hatchling will harbour in a New Age…’

  Seamus frowned. ‘What is he muttering about?’

  Detective Wolfe was about to answer when the gilded doors to the throne room exploded. The sound was a thunderous boom that reverberated against the walls rebelliously, an attack to the orderliness and authority that the cavernous space beheld.

  Jamel and the guard were on their king in a fraction of a second, compressing their bodies suffocatingly close to him.

  Seamus watched, speechless, as wild faeries stormed into the room ululating and cackling like a surge of fiends. They gushed in like a river of glinted, sharklike-eyes and teeth with dry, leathery skin that hung off them in webs.

  The guards roared and fought them, swords swinging down at the tiny gremlins, but they were overwhelmed and fell back, overrun by the swarm of creatures.

  They surged as one black wave, scrambling over the plush walls, splitting cracks wherever their talons pierced the surface. They scaled every surface of the room until it was completely black with their presence, and they hung like strangling ivy from the columns.

  Seamus got the strong smell of moss after rain, a smell he would get during his days hunting in the local forests.

  The cries abruptly ceased, and they stared at Seamus and his ensemble like natives stumbling upon explorers in a rainforest. Foreign, curious and unpredictable.

  Seamus looked up at the black ceiling and one of the sprites stuck its tongue out at him and sniggered.

  Detective Wolfe had her athame out and it shone brightly in the dark chamber, the only source of light as the candelabras were choked out by sprites.

  The delusional prisoner from the Order of the Second Dawn continued to mumble at nothing.

  In the centre of the room, ice began to swell up from the centre of the floor and crust. It cracked and spider webbed its way across, cracked fingers stretching towards Seamus’s guards who quickly retreated, pushing him back up the throne steps.

  ‘What magick is this?’ Seamus quavered, one hand clasped firmly onto one of his guard’s shoulders, as he watched the impossible unfold before him.

  The ice stopped spreading and began to strenuously snap and split upwards, shards of ice hitting the floor as it climbed upwards like a festering carcinoma. It eventually loomed like a standing stone, mist unfurling from it like a precarious lab experiment.

  A fist burst out of it, and the sprites began to chitter in excitement. It was quickly followed by another as it grappled to be free of the enclosure.

  ‘Jamel,’ Seamus breathed, not taking his eyes away, ‘the back passageway.’

  ‘I daren’t risk it, your highness. Otherwise, you would have been gone by now.’

  Outside, royal guards assailed an invisible barrier that blocked them from entering the room. There were shouts to fetch the wizard-in-residence.

  It was like watching a foetus extract itself from its own sac as the ice snapped, and burst into a thousand tiny fragments that rained down on the floor.

  The prisoner stopped muttering and began to quake, crawling backwards.

  Seamus gripped the small dagger at his waist until his knuckles whitened. He cursed himself for not carrying his sword. He now felt trapped within the confines of his seat of power.

  A tall woman stood on a pile of ice and smiled.

  Hair as dark as a raven’s wing cascaded down a shimmering, bright dress that glowed, throwing spectrums of light to dance on everyone like a wind chimes tingling in the wind.

  Her pale oval face was half covered by a snow-white opera mask, and wouldn’t look out of a place at a Venetian ball. Crowning her head was a wreath of dark roses and she stood twice as tall as Seamus’s guards.

  She didn’t flinch when her bare feet crunched on the ice as she stepped away from her collapsed cocoon, and she took in the great hall amusedly. A goddess from a nocturnal nightmare.

  Her delighted eyes flickered to Seamus, and brightened manically.

  Seamus’s stomach could find no ground to plummet through; the Queen of the faerie forest stood before him in all her terrible glory.

  ‘Seamusss’ she hissed, placing one dark painted fingernail to the corner of her lip as though in thought.

  His guard tensed around him, their hands tightened at their sword pommels, and Seamus could hear the shifting of armour as they repositioned themselves for combat. They followed to face the Queen as she wandered around the hall, taking in her subjects whose faces were alight in her presence.

  ‘You’ve been busy of late.’ She plucked a thorn from her crown and sliced her slender forearm thinly. ‘Tell me, how have you been? You never answer my letters fast enough.’ She held her arm out dripping over the sprites that clashed viciously to taste her blood.

  Seamus fought to control his fear and push it in the direction of anger. ‘You’re way out of your depth, Alaysia. What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he roared.

  The Queen threw her head back and howled with laughter. It was the kind of laugh one would hear echoing off the walls of an insane asylum. The sprites chittered along with her, their chorus deafening.

  The Queen palm-smacked her forehead several times to the bemusement of the Kingsguard. The king himself was used to her unusual mannerisms from previous dealings with her, but he tried to keep those as infrequent as possible, and he assumed she wasn’t here for a social call. It was almost unheard of to hear of the Queen leaving the forest.

  ‘Seamus, Seamus, Seamus, Seamus!’ She rolled her head around to look at him, taking her arm back from the hungry sprites. ‘You’ve been searching in the wrong place – it was I who broke your silly little prison. Got a few new recruits from it as well I might add.’

  Words formed on Seamus’s lips but the Queen was already anticipating his next words. ‘Why you might ask?’

  ‘I was going to say that what you did was an act of war,’ he replied gravely, ‘you’re treading on thin water here, risky, for a woman who is not even recognised as an official monarch.’ Seamus had never suspected the Queen herself but he may as well have, her jealousy of the established power at Erp Surrel was well known. He wondered how Florin never detected her involvement of the prisons demise.

  The Queen whirled on him and the room darkened, creaked and strained under her power. The sprites shrank away and whimpered while the prisoner began chanting nonsense, shaking his manacles pleadingly.

  Her face was a mask of rage, her half visible lip curling back in threat.

  His guards tensed around him.


  ‘Oh Seamus,’ she hushed. ‘I took your toy, the trinket that could have helped you save your sorry kingdom from what is to come. I took it from you and it was so easy. He shouldn’t have any problems taking you down.’

  Seamus swallowed. ‘What toy, Alaysia?’

  ‘Stop calling me that! My name is Queen,’ she huffed, and crossed her arms. She stuck her chin out. ‘The Artefact. I took it from that strange lab, the ‘Department of Analysts’ as you so-called civilised people named it. The radiation was a challenge but I’ve managed to contain it. Yes, I do believe the Clock will be of great use to me. Why do you think I destroyed that sad little building in the first place?’

  Seamus licked his lips and chose his next words carefully. ‘The object in the ice was a clock emitting radiation? I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Believe what you want, you’re all dead anyway,’ the Queen said dismissively, studying her nails.

  ‘The Shadow Dancer,’ Seamus prodded, seeing his opportunity for more information, but knowing that this was an outcome worse than the Mad Queen getting her hands on some clock. ‘Is he back?

  The Queen glanced up from her nails and smiled. ‘Oh, he’s back. He never really left; he made himself quite the useful ally in our little expedition to the north.’

  That was the worst news Seamus had since Hannelsford, the last thing he needed was that vigilante running around.

  ‘There’s something else you should know,’ the Queen droned, sounding almost bored with the conversation now. ‘The Elysian tree has woken up, which means of course we have a new player on our chessboard. I’d be so very intrigued to know who that is.’

  ‘Impossible.’ Seamus whispered, feeling his throat constrict even as he got the word out. The tree had been asleep for aeons; the last time it awoke was when Maeve had fought the First Ruler.

  The prisoner began to chant louder.

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ the Queen spat, and backslapped the man’s cheek. He flew back into the sprites that rushed upon him and feasted savagely, pulling him apart like a mannequin.