Hereditary Curse (The Gatekeeper's Curse Book 2)

by Emma L. Adams

  “Serve you right for taking forever to get round to the point.”

  He smiled. “You mean staying in Faerie? If I’d known you missed me that much, I’d have brought you a present. Maybe those cursed faerie ballads, since you like books so much…”

  “Don’t you even think about it.”

  His grin turned wicked. “I’ll have to think of something else.”

  Oh boy. I was in deep.

  “So I take it the way to your heart isn’t through private swordplay lessons?”

  I’d take private lessons in almost anything else. “I wouldn’t object to another coffee date.”

  “Tomorrow.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Perhaps somewhere further from the guild. We can’t sneak off together while we’re here. There are rumours… since it was just the two of us who fought the intruder.”

  “They might think we’re behind it. Honestly, I was kind of expecting that after what happened at the summit. Since the enemy apparently hasn’t changed their strategy, I’ll probably have a murder charge on my head next.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it,” he said firmly, leaning forward to brush his lips against mine again. “We’ll finish this later.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” I walked after him downstairs, the warmth of his embrace fading as we drew closer to the cold testing rooms. A number of cloaked necromancers had gathered there, and drew back as River and I walked through.

  The faerie sat within a circle of candles, hands and feet cuffed, gaze slightly unfocused. He wasn’t bleeding anymore. Maybe he had healing abilities. Healing magic was more common in Seelie faeries, but the magic he’d used had been unmistakably Winter. Still, whatever skills he had, nobody could leave a spirit circle. From my brief check of the spirit world, it wasn’t just his hands that were bound, but his very soul.

  “What’s your real name?” River asked. The other necromancers moved to make room. Seven of them were gathered in the room, including Lady Montgomery.

  “What’s it to you?” said the faerie. He glared at Lady Montgomery, then screamed as though in horrible pain, his body convulsing on the spot. Whoa. What’s she doing to him?

  “Were you trained as a necromancer?” asked Lady Montgomery. “Records show you were only a member of the guild for a few weeks. If anyone trained you, I need to know who it is.”

  He groaned and shifted back into a sitting position, his body shaking. “No.”

  “Liar.” Lady Montgomery stepped in close and he fell back, his head hitting the stone floor as his body shook with spasms.

  “I—” he coughed, lifting his head from the stone floor. “I wasn’t—not here.”

  “Were you trained in Faerie?” I asked, wishing I could question him alone.

  He shook his head. I didn’t think so… but either that faerie beast had already been here, or he’d brought it from the Vale himself. But if he already had the skills, why would he need the guild? Unless… he was working for someone else who’d sent him in as a spy. He was a half-faerie, and could lie even under duress.

  Lady Montgomery said, “What was your purpose in joining the guild?”

  “Information.”

  “Be more specific,” she said sharply.

  “Information on…” He choked on the words.

  “He’s under a faerie vow,” I said suddenly, recognising the desperate terror on his face as his mind fought the bounds of the person who’d cursed him to keep their secrets to the point of death. “If he can’t tell you the mission, the person employing him ensured it. Nothing can break a faerie vow.”

  “Except death,” River said quietly. “Do you want me to?”

  Lady Montgomery gave him a sideways look. “I’ll handle it.”

  She produced a dagger and stabbed him in the chest. The faerie screamed, his body falling back—and his ghost came out of his body. There was a resounding snap through the spirit world, and the faint glow around his body died entirely.

  Holy shit. Watching someone die as a necromancer was a hell of a trip. His body fell limply to the floor while his ghost floated above.

  “Now you’re dead, you’re no longer bound to tell the truth,” River said. “I’m surprised your master didn’t think of that one.”

  “He did.” The faerie smirked. “You’re all fools. The fetch signals your demise, and she’ll lay waste to this pathetic little organisation.”

  “You’re still trapped,” Lady Montgomery pointed out. “Who exactly is ‘she’?”

  He smiled, and evaporated into mist.

  There was a long silence, in which everyone watched to see if he reappeared.

  “He’s gone,” Lady Montgomery said, in a cold voice. “It seems he had one last trick up his sleeve.”

  “I should have known,” said River. “The person he worked for plainly knows necromancy as well as they do faerie magic.”

  “He said ‘she’,” I said. “And—the fetch. Who is the fetch?”

  “That should be, what is the fetch,” River said grimly. “And it’s bad news. According to faerie legend, the fetch is an omen of death… and they can only be heard by people whose own death is coming.”

  “Nonsense,” said Lady Montgomery. “We deal in death here. Omens are meaningless to us.”

  “Then what was he trying to steal?” I asked.

  “Case files,” said Lady Montgomery. “From past clients.”

  “People the guild has helped,” River explained. “People hire us to do all sorts of things. Which cases did he steal?”

  “He was unsuccessful,” Lady Montgomery said. “I’ll deal with the rest myself. You can leave. Ilsa, you should find your brother.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t get the image of the faerie’s spirit being torn from his body out of my head. He’d been startled, but he truly didn’t fear death at all. He’d been prepared for it.

  “Maybe ‘she’ is Holly,” I muttered to River as we left. “Using an intermediary, like those two other necromancers. I can’t believe he duped us like that.”

  “Nor me.” His mouth tightened. “We’ve lost our lead.”

  “What kind of case files might the thief have tried to steal?” I asked. “More to the point, why?”

  “If I had to guess, it’s because the enemy wanted to know how a particular case was handled so they can replicate it,” said River. “Some of them involved dark magic. Others involved summonings, banishings, bindings… it might have been any of them.”

  “Damn,” I said. “Are you worried about this… fetch? Seems a bad time to be ignoring faerie legends, especially ones involving omens of death.”

  “There’s no guarantee he told the truth,” River said. “The fetch is a rarity, and besides, she’s right—we spend half our time in Death, technically speaking.” His hand briefly touched mine. “I’ll see you later, Ilsa.”

  What a day. I hadn’t even got Morgan up to speed on current developments, but he’d tracked that ghost psychically without any training at all. His powers were off the charts, and he did have more experience than he’d let on. Heaven knew what else the rest of us had overlooked while we’d been living together.

  One thing was certain—if the enemy found out what he’d done, he’d be a target, too. No disputing it this time.

  The fetch signals your demise, and she’ll lay waste to this pathetic little organisation.

  11

  I walked down the corridor, doubled back, realised I was lost, and walked in circles for a while until I found myself beside the infirmary again. Lloyd and Jas sat in the waiting room, and the former waved at me.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” I said to Jas, walking into the room. Most of the other chairs were vacant.

  “Yeah. I got lucky. I just have to wait for some test results to make sure what he stabbed me with wasn’t magical, and then I’m clear.” She didn’t sound thrilled at the idea. “He’s dead, right? I heard he killed himself in the interrogation.”

  “Lady Montgomery killed him, b
ut he was apparently prepared. He hopped through the gate before we could get him to tell us who he was working for. Where’s Morgan, anyway?”

  “I thought you knew he left,” said Lloyd. “What do you mean, hopped through the gate? The faerie wanted to go to the afterlife?”

  “Apparently. Morgan did what?”

  “He got bored waiting for you to come out of interrogation and went home.”

  “Oh, for god’s sake.” I sighed. “He’s going to get himself killed. You two—keep an eye out for trouble, okay? I’ll be back.”

  I ran down the corridor, my head spinning. Why had Morgan taken off now? Maybe he’d thought the faerie was after him. Okay, so the attack had been unfortunate, but the iron in the building made it the safest place for him to be until we figured out our next move. Outside, he was entirely vulnerable.

  I reached out with my spirit sight, catching sight of him two streets from the guild, and broke into a run. Necromancers stared as I bolted through the entrance hall, not slowing until I reached the street’s corner.

  “Morgan!” I shouted. “Get back here.”

  “Stop treating me like a kid.”

  “Maybe try acting like a rational person rather than storming around like angry spirits aren’t looking to mount a psychic assault on you?”

  He whirled around. “I suppose you know all about that, don’t you? You don’t tell me things and then get pissed off when I won’t play by your rules.”

  “I said I was sorry I didn’t tell you I’m a necromancer. I literally joined the guild two days ago, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t trust you. Was the testing really that bad, or are you leaving because of the faerie attack?”

  “They said you killed them.”

  “Yeah, I did. One of them. Why?”

  He looked me over. “You’re still not telling me everything. The Ilsa I grew up with wouldn’t kill a fly, and sure as hell didn’t have necromantic magic. How do I know you’re not spinning a glamour?”

  “Because only the real me could piss you off this much. If you want me to tell you things, you could try not stealing, begging for money off your little sister, and disappearing for over eight years and making Mum and Hazel cry.”

  He blinked. “What—I made them cry?”

  I shook my head. “Forget I said anything.”

  His attention sharpened. “You’re serious. I didn’t think they’d care I was gone.”

  “That’s the problem. You don’t think about the consequences of the stunts you pull. You’re getting on my last nerve, if it wasn’t obvious, and if you put your mind to it, you might actually be able to help the guild.”

  “And what exactly would they do for me?”

  “Keep you alive,” I said. “I wish I could do that, but I can’t see what’s following you and neither can you. But you said you couldn’t hear the voice anymore when you were inside the guild headquarters, right?”

  He shook his head. “No. What were you thinking of doing? Like an exorcism?”

  “Possibly,” I said. “I know literally nothing about psychic sensitives. I can’t track what I can’t see, unless you can give me a description of the person whose thoughts you can hear. You saw where that faerie was, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. You’re saying I was right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s what I’m getting at. The reason River and I caught the guy is because you tracked the trespasser before he killed anyone else. It’s a useful power. So can you do the same for the one who’s been giving you grief for the last few days?”

  His mouth hung open a little. “Uh. Yeah. She’s standing right there.”

  I hit him in the arm. “Seriously.”

  “Okay, okay. Since I’m apparently useful.” He shook his head, and then stood and stared into space. “I think the guild might have scared it off.”

  “I hope that’s true, but considering… I don’t know if going back to the house is a good idea. Won’t you consider letting the guild help you?”

  “I didn’t get the impression they wanted me to stick around.”

  “They just got attacked. People nearly died, and now they have a dead prisoner to handle. I think they’ve had quite enough—” I broke off as he fell to his knees. “Morgan—what is it?” I looked around, spirit sight on, but didn’t pick up on anyone aside from a few humans down the road. “Someone’s speaking to you, right? Where are they? Can you tell me?”

  He hit out and overbalanced, falling painfully to the pavement. “Whoa!” I grabbed his shoulders, trying to avoid his flailing arms. “Morgan, we’re going back to the guild, okay?”

  “You’re not going anywhere, Gatekeeper,” he hissed, in a voice that definitely wasn’t his own.

  “Who the hell are you? Get out of my brother’s head.” My spirit sight remained switched on, but only Morgan’s spirit was present. He wasn’t possessed. What the hell was the intruder doing—using him as a mouthpiece?

  I grabbed his arms to hold him down, but he kept flailing, horrible laughter gargling from his throat. “Get out!” I snapped, feeling the book stir in my pocket. Oh, now you want to get involved. “Too much of a coward to face me in person?”

  My brother lunged at me, knocking me off my feet. I kicked out, gripping the book, and drew on its power instinctively. Cold energy rushed to my palms and sent him reeling backwards.

  I got to my feet. “Sorry about that. I—”

  “Gatekeeper,” he whispered, still in that creepy voice. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  Two undead walked out in front of me, glowing with wraithlike power.

  Shit. The book had broadcasted our location.

  I positioned myself in front of Morgan, hoping he didn’t attack me from behind again, and drew on the book’s power. White light spun from my palms, slamming into the undead. They staggered, falling back, and I took the opportunity to throw salt down in front of us. The undead wouldn’t be able to cross it, and I’d take them down before they got within an inch of Morgan.

  The forms of the two wraiths hovered, black as pitch against the fog of the spirit realm. If they were full-powered, we were in a public location, and the guild was still recovering from the last attack. I didn’t have time to call backup.

  Better hope the book was on its best behaviour.

  My hands glowed white, and I sent the charged burst of power at the wraiths. One of them was torn free of the undead body with a ripping noise, but the second vanished into the grey mist. Oh hell.

  I spun around in time for it to grab Morgan from behind. He screamed as its cold hands latched onto his soul, and terror shone from his eyes. The bastard possessing him had withdrawn, leaving only Morgan behind.

  “Let him go,” I warned, my own hands glowing with power. “Now.”

  I detached from my body and slammed into the wraith. It let go of Morgan, hissing in surprise, and I gripped its shimmering hands in mine. The image of the gates came to mind—wide, uncontrollable—but my brother’s spirit was right there, and if I opened the gate, he might get sucked into it, too.

  The wraith wrenched free from my grip and a cold blast of icy air hit me from the front. The first wraith advanced, back in the undead’s body. Cold clammy hands pawed at me over the salt boundary. I kicked the undead’s leg which gave way beneath it, and threw more salt, but the wraith continued, undeterred. The two of them had me caged in.

  I gritted my teeth. Tapping into the spirit world again, I pushed at the wraiths with all the power I could conjure, binding words flowing from my tongue. They recoiled, but didn’t fade, or disappear beyond the gates. With no candles, the book would have to do. I took in a breath, and Morgan rose to his feet.

  The wraith behind me fell back, a horrible keening noise tearing from its throat—if it had one. The second wraith stopped inches from hitting me, also screaming. What the hell?

  I drew on the book’s power again, white light exploding from both palms. This time, the wraiths disappeared in a flash of light. Morgan yelled a
gain, dropping to his knees, clutching his head.

  “Morgan!” Whoa. Whatever had been influencing him couldn’t have attacked the wraiths. Somehow Morgan himself had. Could I get him to the guild from here? Unlikely. I grabbed my phone and dashed off a message to River, which I really should have done from the start, and crouched down beside Morgan. His gaze was unfocused, his hands hanging limply at his sides. “Morgan. Talk to me.”

  “Gate—keeper.”

  “Stop hurting him, you piece of shit.” I grabbed Morgan’s arms and tried to haul him to his feet, but he was surprisingly strong considering how scrawny he was. When he hit me in the face for the fourth time, I let go. Tapping into the spirit realm, I yelled at the glowing spot where my brother’s soul was attached to his body—“Let go of him, you dickhead.”

  “How the hell are you talking to me like that?” he said.

  “Wait, you know?” I squinted, and the greyness receded a little. Morgan stared at me—at my spirit, not my body below. And he wasn’t flailing and screaming like his living body. “Can’t you get back into your body and stop it doing that?”

  “No. The noise won’t stop. How are you here?”

  “Necromancer trick. Morgan, I need you to calm down while I get you to the guild. That means getting your body under control. What’s the spirit doing to you?”

  “Screaming. All the time. I can even hear it here.”

  “Where did you learn to disconnect from your body?” I asked. “You’re—you do realise only necromancers can do this, right?”

  “I thought everyone could.” He looked around at the grey smoke. “It’s quiet here.”

  “It won’t be where you’re going. Really sorry about this.” I grabbed his arms, and with the book’s power, pushed him into his body. He yelled aloud, and the sound reverberated off the streets. Once I was sure it’d worked, I flew down into my own body again. He stood awkwardly, hand on his forehead. “Ow. I don’t think I can shut it out for long.”

  “Then we’d better run. Race you to the guild, okay?” I said, like we were kids again.