The Gatekeeper's Curse- The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  I came downstairs to find River and Hazel in the living room, where the house’s magic had conjured up breakfast. As I sat down next to Hazel on the sofa, she swiped a piece of toast from my plate, having finished her own. I debated snatching it back, but funnily enough, the zombies had killed my appetite. Hazel bounced back from near-death experiences in seconds, while I was still in the I want to curl up and go to sleep, preferably without a wraith in my room phase.

  “Ilsa.” Hazel waved a hand in front of my face. “You’re a million miles away.”

  “I have no idea why.” I gripped the sofa’s arm with one hand like it’d restore my grip on sanity. “We just got attacked by our undead relatives. And then River walked them back to their graves.”

  “I did,” he confirmed. “I assumed you would have preferred that to me reanimating them again.”

  Ugh. No thanks. I suppressed a shudder at the memory of those horrible throaty noises coming from my deceased Great-Aunt Enid. I’d encountered undead before—in Edinburgh, the dead seemed to rise every other week—but the city had a high number of trained necromancers, and undead weren’t sentient. “Since when could zombies use magic?”

  “They can’t,” River said. “As I was saying to your sister, wraiths are an exception to the rules that apply to regular spirits. They were able to temporarily possess the reanimated bodies of your relatives to attack you.”

  “Does that mean a necromancer summoned them, then?” I asked.

  Hazel shrugged. “Nobody else has power over life and death.”

  “Except him,” I said, before I could help myself.

  River half-rose from his seat. “Are you accusing me of raising those creatures?”

  “No, just making an observation,” I said. “Those wraiths came after us with purpose. They didn’t rise of their own accord. You’re the only person we’ve met who’s even heard of them.”

  “If I knew who summoned them, I’d have told you,” he said icily, with no hint of the warm humour in his voice when he’d been talking to my sister.

  “Sorry,” I said, before I dug a deeper hole. Grave-deep. My phone lit up with a message from my boss telling me to explain what I meant by a family emergency.

  “Who are you messaging?” Hazel asked.

  “My boss.” I sank back into my seat. “I doubt he’d appreciate it if I told him I’m not coming to work because our dead relatives decided to attack us.”

  “Human boss?” she asked. “Tell him you caught the faerie pox and it’s contagious.”

  “I told him it’s a family emergency, but that doesn’t cover zombies.” Or cursed spellbooks, for that matter. “It’s not like he can check up on me.”

  Hazel stole another piece of my toast. “No, he can’t. You know what happened last time a human came here.”

  She just had to go there.

  “Last time?” said River, sounding intrigued. “Can people find this house from outside?”

  “Nope.” I poked Hazel warningly with my foot.

  She scooted out of reach, putting the plate down. “Ilsa brought a boy home once…”

  “And the house’s magic decided he was a threat and turned him into a tree,” I finished. “That’s all there is.”

  Hazel cackled. “What she’s not telling you is that Mum was away in Faerie at the time and neither of us could figure out how to take the spell off. He was stuck like that for hours before the house took pity on him. Don’t cross the Gatekeeper, in case you’re getting any ideas,” she added to River, who now wore a smirk to rival her own. Hilarious.

  I aimed a kick at her and winced when her foot connected with my kneecap. “Ow. Okay, I’m telling my boss you caught the faerie pox.”

  Hazel grabbed my phone from my hand. “Nice try. Just say you have flu. I don’t get what the problem is.”

  For a start, I have a cursed spellbook which seems to be connected with the dead, and I live in the most haunted city in the country.

  River watched me across the coffee table. “Faerie pox? Really?”

  “It’s a thing.” Humans could only catch the pox by kissing a faerie, not something I particularly wanted to discuss with a cute guy, faerie or not. I didn’t think he and Hazel had been flirting, but he wasn’t her usual type. She preferred rogues and troublemakers, not stuck-up bodyguards with unexpected necromantic talents. And there was that rule about not dating faeries. It shouldn’t apply to me, but River wasn’t my type either. I’d been there before, and walked away with both faerie pox and a broken heart.

  River grinned wickedly. “I know it’s a thing. I was wondering how you knew.”

  Was there a challenge in his expression? He should know better than to flirt with either of us, considering Hazel had told the exact truth about the unfortunate human guy I’d dated at school. And I’d also just accused him of working against us. Though he’d thought the same of me this morning as well…

  I grabbed my phone from Hazel. “We’re experts in everything to do with the faeries. And I do need to call my boss, so if you two don’t mind…”

  River’s brows rose. “You can make phone calls from here?”

  “Sometimes, if the wind’s blowing in the right direction,” I responded. “Don’t ask me how. Same reason electricity works in the house when we aren’t on solid ground—magic.”

  I checked Hazel hadn’t sent anything incriminating to my boss and dashed off a message saying I’d had to attend a funeral. Which was sort of true, and I thought Grandma would get a kick out of it. I’d messaged my former landlord earlier offering to pay for a spell to fix the house and find alternative accommodation for my displaced housemates, but had received no response. Which probably meant I’d been blacklisted from all human-owned housing in the city for the next few decades.

  Right. Let’s see if I can squeeze answers out of this spellbook.

  I went into the library, took out the book, and opened it. Not a single word showed on its aged pages. I flipped it upside-down, held it under the light, yet it remained stubbornly blank. “Come on, you little bastard.” I flipped it over, like if I shook it hard enough, the answers would fall out.

  “What in the world are you doing?” asked Hazel.

  I lowered the book. “Is he gone?”

  “Yeah, he’s back to patrolling outside. It’s not so bad having someone else to help watch the place, to be honest.” Her gaze snagged on the book’s cover. “That looks like a magical rune of some type.”

  “I can’t have magic. Not when I’m…” I trailed off, not sure how I was going to end that sentence. “…not magical.”

  She grinned. “Now you are. Welcome to the club.”

  6

  In the end, I didn’t get a secret handshake or initiation, just a book that wouldn’t reveal its contents. Hazel and I tried three different variations of witch revealing spells on it, followed by a rare concoction that was supposed to peel away glamour in front of humans—but nothing worked. The pages remained empty. I tried writing my name in the book, but the pen didn’t work. I tried another. Same result.

  “Someone really doesn’t want this book damaged,” Hazel commented as I put the third pen onto the table in the library. “It must be magically preserved.”

  “Faerie magic?” I shook the spellbook, then flipped it upside-down, letting the pages fan out. “Nah, it was hidden in a building of reinforced iron. This has ‘necromancy’ written all over it.”

  “There’s an idea,” she said. “Maybe the necromancers’ guild can help.”

  I snapped the book closed. “Grandma told me to promise not to tell anyone. Besides, I’m not sure I’d really count as a necromancer considering I wasn’t born as one.”

  Only higher level necromancers could actually control the dead, zombies included. Mostly they wandered around wearing Grim Reaper cloaks and being constantly haunted by any ghost in the vicinity. It didn’t look much fun.

  “What are you talking about?” River appeared in the doorway so suddenly he might as well h
ave teleported out of thin air. Bloody half-faeries. I dropped my hand casually to my side to hide the book from view.

  “Can you not do that?” I said. “This isn’t your house, you know.”

  “Your sister gave me leave to enter and exit as I pleased,” he said. “I wanted to ask your permission before applying a barrier to the garden as well as the house.”

  “If you’re using iron, don’t put it near the Seelie Gate,” Hazel said. “The Sidhe would take it as a grave insult. Almost as much as the undead.”

  “Ha ha,” I said. “But really—no iron. I have some, but putting it anywhere near the Sidhe’s favourite corner of the garden is a great way to get yourself turned into a deer.”

  “Do the Sidhe come here often?” he enquired.

  “Not when they’re actually needed, no,” I said, wishing he’d look away so I could conceal the book out of sight. The Sidhe usually only came through the gate in times of dire need. I vaguely remembered the day I’d seen the Summer Sidhe riding through our garden to war with their outcast brethren, but I’d been a toddler at the time and I had only vague recollections of the faerie invasion. I did know Mum had fought, and had the scars to prove it. But other than that, the gate lay mostly unused.

  “The Sidhe will come when necessary,” proclaimed Arden, perching on the door frame. “Human business is not their business.”

  I took the opportunity to slide the book into my pocket as Arden flew out of sight in a whirl of feathers.

  River looked at me. “What type of faerie is he?”

  “He’s the Lynn family’s messenger,” said Hazel.

  “He specialises in useless advice and delivering warnings too late,” I added. “Oh, and he sometimes sits on top of doors and says “Nevermore”.”

  “Arden’s also the only company I’ve had in the house for weeks,” said Hazel. “Guess that’s why he brought Ilsa here.”

  That, or he knew about the book. But I wasn’t about to chase the raven down to ask, and I highly doubted the Sidhe had put the notebook of the dead into my hands.

  “He brought you here?” River asked. “To help with the undead situation?”

  “No,” I said. “I came here to help Hazel, and I’ve every intention of leaving once this is over.”

  “Leaving?” he asked. “Don’t you live here?”

  “Not permanently. I have a job to go back to. What exactly did you think non-Gatekeepers did?” The words sounded more vehement than I’d intended, and I caught a glimpse of Hazel’s hurt expression as she ducked her head. Ah, crap. This was why I’d avoided coming home until now. Hazel hadn’t taken my departure well, and while we’d spoken on the phone every week, I’d held off paying a visit, knowing that setting foot in this place would bring back memories of Sidhe with pretty smiles and poisonous words who tore me down with a single look. I didn’t think even Mum or Hazel understood how difficult it’d been growing up in the Gatekeeper’s shadow until I’d left.

  “I was told your whole family served the Seelie Court,” said River. “But I didn’t know there was more than one Lynn sibling.”

  “We have another twelve hidden in the attic,” I said. “Didn’t you see how many graves there were? We Lynns breed like rabbits.”

  Hazel choked on a laugh, muffling the noise with the back of her hand.

  River turned to me, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Really? Is that one of your hobbies, Ilsa?”

  Heat climbed up my neck. I’d walked right into that one, and I deserved it for assuming most half-faeries didn’t get sarcasm. But at least I’d cheered Hazel up.

  “Yeah, we have almost as many descendants as the Seelie King,” Hazel added.

  I shot her a warning look, which she ignored.

  “The Erlking doesn’t have human bloodlines,” he said, still looking highly amused at my comment. I didn’t think it was that funny. “Or so I’m told.”

  “I don’t know about humans, but someone seems to want me to find the heir to the Seelie Court.”

  Dammit, Hazel. I didn’t think River was a villain, but I could also count the number of people who’d got into the house without the Gatekeeper’s permission on one hand, and one of those was a murderous wraith.

  “What…” His brows drew together. “You’ve been told to find the heir to Summer? As in, the Erlking’s successor?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?” said Hazel. “The Gatekeeper’s role is to preserve the peace inside the Court and outside it. Ensuring a peaceful power transition seems a vital part of that, right?”

  Clever. She was trying to talk River into giving up what he knew of the Court’s fragile state.

  “I wasn’t aware there was an upcoming power transition,” River said. “I thought such a task would be considered too delicate for anyone other than the Sidhe themselves.”

  Hazel’s face reddened. She wasn’t used to being put down, and from his matter-of-fact tone, River didn’t seem to realise he’d crossed a line.

  “That’s why I decided to go to the graveyard,” I said quickly. “Our own ancestors were tangled with the Sidhe, so I figured there might be clues about the heir. I guess the wraiths were sent by someone trying to stop us.” It was the only connection I could think of. But did that mean someone in the Grey Vale knew about the missing Seelie heir?

  “Maybe.” River sounded doubtful. “I would have expected someone to tell me that when I received the orders to guard you.”

  He sounded genuinely insulted that they’d neglected to tell him what was going on. Welcome to the club, River. What with the vow binding him, he couldn’t know all his superiors’ motives. And he hadn’t so much as alluded to the Sidhe no longer being immortal, so I assumed he didn’t know about it. But if that was the case, whose binding words had led him to us? And why, for that matter, had I been the one to receive the order to find the heir?

  “Though I can’t say I know why they’d give the job to humans,” he added. “It strikes me as a matter for someone within the Courts, not outsiders.”

  “Maybe they thought we’d do a better job than you,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be decorating the lawn?”

  “I could use some assistance.” He looked at me. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, and if we’re to work together, it’d be easier if we all got along.”

  It’d be easier if you stopped ordering us around in our own house, for a start. If he hadn’t wanted to end up neck deep in crap, he shouldn’t have got tangled with our family to begin with. But the more I thought about it, the less the situation made sense. Finding out who’d tried to kill us ought to take precedence over whatever was going on in Summer.

  Hazel signalled her I need to talk to you look again. I turned to River. “Sure. I’ll get the spare salt.”

  River gave me a nod and glided to the door. “I’ll be outside. You never know—you might find you enjoy my company after all.”

  “Have fun with that,” Hazel commented. “Mum left me a bunch of paperwork to deal with, so if there are no clues about the heir, I need to get a head start on that. Unless you’d like to help…?”

  “I think I’ll take the garden, thanks.” After five years absent, my grasp of faerie languages was sketchy to say the least, and I wanted to check nothing else had sneaked in. “But seriously—why did you tell him?”

  “There’s something wrong with the request we were given,” she said. “If it was a task given by the Seelie Court for our family only, I’d have got tongue-tied the moment I tried to speak it aloud. You know they take their vows seriously. But this quest—it wasn’t one.”

  “You’re saying someone sent us on a wild goose chase on purpose? The Erlking is dying. And we haven’t seen any evidence to contradict what else Ivy said. If anything, this whole wraith situation proves it’s true.”

  “Maybe our bodyguard knows.”

  “Precisely my thinking.” I’d dealt with the dead today—I could handle an hour with River. But I definitely wouldn’t be bringing up faerie
pox. Or half-Sidhe lovers with intoxicating magic. Don’t even go there, Ilsa.

  I fetched the spare salt shaker from the kitchen and went out through the back door, where I found River laboriously scattering salt along the edge of the lawn that bordered the hedge. The field beyond was bare and empty, but the whole garden shone with vibrant Summer magic. I didn’t blame him for removing his coat, but his faerie-made clothes clung to his tall, muscular body and left little to the imagination. I forced my gaze to the sword strapped to his waist instead. Maybe he expected a piskie to jump out of the hedge and attack him. In fairness, it wasn’t unlikely in our garden.

  The talisman meant the Court trusted him. Whether the Gatekeepers could do the same remained to be seen.

  “You can start over there,” he said, pointing at a section of hedge. “Ideally, we shouldn’t leave any gaps, but the gate can remain untouched.”

  “No wraith with any sense would go near there,” I said, shaking salt onto the grass. “I never asked—are they conscious?”

  “Not in the same way regular spirits are. They’re like concentrated emotion. Poltergeists and wraiths have that in common. The force of their rage allows them to do things no normal ghosts can.”

  Goosebumps rose on my arms, and I looked over my shoulder at the house.

  “Enough about the dead,” he said. “I’d like to get to know you, Ilsa.”

  “You’ve met a lot of my family. Some of the dead ones, even. Pretty sure they can give you an accurate picture.”

  “I can’t say your Great-Aunts were keen to stick around for a conversation,” he said lightly.