Magic Redeemed (Hall of Blood and Mercy Book 2)

by K. M. Shea

  Aphrodite didn’t seem to care, thankfully. She let out a very loud “Mmmert” and then curled into a massive ball that consisted of mostly her hindquarters and belly.

  Killian leaned over my shoulder and peered down at the feline. “You need to stop feeding this thing so much.”

  “She needs no such thing! Aphrodite is a beautiful and stunning example of her breed!” the Paragon said.

  “You’re right about the stunning part,” Killian deadpanned.

  “Killian, why don’t you explain what we need to talk to the Paragon about?” I asked, hoping to divert the conversation before things got…weird.

  “I already said what—you need his help.”

  “I find it intriguing you have again ventured here for Hazel’s sake.” The Paragon removed his spectacles and wiped them on his robes. “You must care for her an awful lot.”

  “Or perhaps it is merely that if I’m going to train a wizard I want to get the maximum benefit out of it,” Killian said.

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, having expected that reply. “But I don’t know what you think I need his help with.”

  Killian shrugged, probably loosening more of those irritating vampire powers or pheromones or whatever given how smooth the motion was. “Magic,” he said.

  Now it was the Paragon’s turn to frown. “But she unsealed her magic.”

  “Yes, and though she has great potential, she uses it the same way all wizards use it—fireballs, a few bolts of electricity, the usual. She’s gotten rather good at wrapping her sword with electricity, but there must be more extensive methods and skills she can learn,” Killian said.

  “Is that really possible?” I looked from Killian to the Paragon. “Wizards are pretty limited in the kinds of magic we can do. We can create magic versions of fire, water, wind, electricity and all those sorts of elements, but it’s not like we can enchant things like the fae.”

  The Paragon twirled the tips of his white mustache, flinching when he yanked too hard. “There is truth in both of your words. Killian is right in that there is more to a wizard’s magic potential than simply scaling up your attacks, but you are right as well, Hazel, in knowing that you cannot cast spells. You use magic in its rawest form.”

  “So what else is there?” I asked.

  The Paragon shuffled over to his bookshelves. “Your magic can be used in more…hmm…harmful—shall we say?—ways. Techniques and styles that fell out of vogue as the infighting among supernaturals dropped off.”

  He turned around to peer at me over the rims of his spectacles. “Really, you wizards just lack imagination. Everyone is so anxious to copy everyone else—not a speck of creative thinking in the lot of you.” He plucked a book bound in cracked leather from the shelf, grimaced at the dust coating the spine, then buffed it off with his silk sleeve.

  “Here.” He waddled over to me and held out the book. “This might spark a few ideas. It’s not readable, but the pictures are useful. Sit down, and take a look at it.”

  He marched off before I could ask where he expected me to sit—just about every surface in the room was claimed. The nearest chair wasn’t too full, though. It only had a stack of books on it, and its matching footstool just had a model globe—of a green and blue planet that was not earth.

  Aphrodite peered over the edge of her pet bed and watched me transfer the books to her bookshelf before I plopped down and opened the book.

  The Paragon hadn’t lied. The inked words of the book had faded to illegible smudges. Only a few random letters remained, but they weren’t even from the English alphabet. It occurred to me about then that this book was quite possibly a millennium old—or older.

  I froze with my fingers sifting through the pages, but relaxed when I tasted the flower bathwater scent of fae magic—probably a preservation spell—and resumed turning the pages.

  The illustrations still remained. They were slightly faded, but the use of color made it easier to decipher what I was seeing: rudimentary figures that were supposed to represent wizards, casting a variety of spells.

  So far, I only saw what Killian had dubbed “the usual”—like a fireball spell, though it had a few more difficult variations I had only seen my parents ever successfully pull off, and they had only done it once or twice for demonstration—like fire walls.

  I frowned at the red and orange wall of flames the book depicted and considered it. It would work against werewolves, but not—based on my fight with Gavino—vampires. They’d blow through it so fast I doubted they’d even singe their hair.

  There had to be other alternatives.

  I turned the page, vaguely aware of Killian’s and the Paragon’s presence.

  “Might I enquire what prompted this field trip?” the Paragon asked.

  “I already told you, Hazel needed your help.”

  “Obviously. But something must have goaded you into deciding that she needed to level up.”

  “I cannot be goaded—though the Night Court did try. Which begs the question why do you hang around if you aren’t going to actually do anything to rein in the Midwest Courts?” Killian said.

  “I’m a representative, not a ruler.”

  “Then leave. Your presence is giving the Courts an overinflated vision of their importance.”

  “Can’t,” the Paragon said. “I’m looking for…something,” he added evasively.

  “Then find it and go away.”

  “What a rude thing to say when I’m helping your wizard!”

  “You gave her a book. That hardly counts. And I’d be a great deal more grateful if you brought the Night Court to heel.”

  “You set off that bomb long before I arrived in the Midwest.” The Paragon snorted. “It’s only right that you have to deal with the consequences of your mess. Besides, even if I interfered it’s never going to end unless the Night Queen and her consort fall out of power. You really bearded the dragon with that one.”

  “It’s hardly my fault,” Killian said. “She should have been better at murdering if she wanted to get away with it.”

  Chapter Three

  Hazel

  That yanked me out of my picture-viewing. “What?”

  “You haven’t heard?” the Paragon asked me. “Why the Night Court hates His Eminence, that is.”

  “I assumed it was politically motivated,” I said.

  “Oh, pooh. Everyone hates Killian because of his power and pushiness when it comes to politics.” The Paragon rolled his eyes. “But no, it’s much more personal. The Night Court reflects the feelings of their ruler—Queen Nyte and her consort, Ira. And they hate Killian because he uncovered that the queen had murdered her previous husband, the King of the Night Court. When he dropped that little bomb on the local fae Courts they stripped the Night Court of some of its power and fae land—which naturally ticked off the queen.”

  I squinted at Killian. “I thought you don’t care what happens between the other races?”

  “I don’t,” Killian said frankly. “Unless I can use it to my advantage, as I did in this case. I informed the fae Courts of the Night Queen’s violent pastimes before we were set to vote on a particular law I wanted passed that wasn’t going to make it. We had to adjourn briefly so the fae could sort themselves out, and not all of them returned to the meeting, which made it possible to get a majority vote.”

  “And that’s what your real aim was,” I said.

  “Obviously.”

  “You know.” The Paragon removed his glasses and set them on his living desk. “I don’t think Queen Nyte would have been quite so offended about your reveal if you hadn’t made her into a footnote for one of your political pushes. It makes her feel unimportant.”

  “She is unimportant.”

  “Weren’t you asking me just minutes ago to handle her? She can’t be that unimportant.”

  Killian ignored the Paragon and settled his obsidian-red eyes on me. “Read the book, Hazel.”

  I didn’t particularly want to do what he told me,
but the book was interesting, and I had just found a section that detailed the use of raw magic.

  As a wizard, I filtered raw magic through my blood to make it useable. Wizards transformed it into whatever they wanted—lightning, fire, etc—but we could also handle the filtered magic at its purest form.

  No one did much with it because it didn’t really have any properties to it. It didn’t burn like fire or zap like electricity. It just…was. But based on the illustrations it looked like in the past wizards managed to forge it into something useful.

  I flipped through the pages, hoping for an illustration that might reveal more and occasionally pausing to listen to the exchanged banter between the Paragon and Killian.

  Over the next hour I found several interesting illustrations that seemed like I might be able to use, though it was going to take a lot of experimentation.

  “We need to leave.” Killian frowned down at his gold watch.

  “Thank you for letting me look at this book, Paragon.” I scooted off the chair and approached the pair, holding the book out.

  The Paragon scratched his cheek, muttering in irritation when he poked himself with his sculpted mustache. “Take it with you and borrow it for now, Hazel Medeis,” he said. “I can only assume His Eminence will come barging back in a month or two to upset my peaceful abode again. You can bring it with you then.”

  I studied the tattered book. “That would be a big help—since it’s only pictures, my guesses are pretty cryptic about getting any of this to actually work.”

  “Splendid. Books love to be read, so everyone will win. Oh—though you must seek Aphrodite’s permission, first,” the Paragon said.

  Killian stared at the fae. “You want her to ask your cat if she can borrow a book?”

  “Of course! She is the guardian of my domicile.”

  “What does she do? Make any potential invader stupid at the sight of her bulging belly?”

  “You toad! Take that back right now!”

  I left the pair and picked my way around a foosball table so I could approach the hairless cat. I saw the way she peered at me over the edge of her pet bed with glittering eyes, so I wasn’t about to question the necessity of asking her permission or not.

  “Aphrodite, can I borrow this book?”

  The cat blinked twice, then flipped on her back with an agreeable “Mmret”.

  “She has agreed!” The Paragon excitedly clapped his hands.

  “This is so stupid,” Killian grumbled.

  “If that is how you feel, then begone—go on, now. Shoo!” The Paragon made a shooing motion with his hand.

  Killian rolled his eyes as I joined him.

  “Thank you for lending me the book,” I said.

  The Paragon fumbled with his unicorn coin purse. “Of course, of course. Be sure to bring it back when you come again—and bring me an ice cream cake!”

  We were battered by wind, and when I opened my eyes we were back in the ice cream aisle of the grocery store.

  “Did you find anything of worth?” Killian led the way down the aisle and up to the front doors.

  “I think so. I’m going to have to experiment, but it had some interesting illustrations—if I’m interpreting them correctly.”

  “Excellent.” He checked his watch again when we left the store and stood outside under the moonlight. “Celestina will take you home. I have a meeting I need to attend.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you back at Drake Hall?”

  “Yes.” He glanced down at me.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what to do, so I smiled.

  Killian stared at me for several long seconds. He then abruptly grabbed my hand and stretched it up so he could delicately sniff my wrist. He dropped my wrist and slightly shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “Why do you keep doing that?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Smelling me.”

  Killian shrugged. “Read your book when you get home.”

  This, of course, meant Killian wasn’t going to tell me why, which made me a little wary. Did he have a dastardly plan? Or was he trying to figure out if I trusted him? But my trust in him only affected the taste of my blood, it was a vampire’s trust in me that affected how my blood smelled to them.

  The motorcade pulled up, and Killian slid into the front car before I could so much as blink.

  “Hazel,” Celestina called from the back car.

  I shook my head then trotted to Celestina. Forget Killian’s weirdness—I needed to work on my magic and track down the House Medeis signet ring. He could have his mysteries for all I cared—just as long as they didn’t threaten my life.

  I threw myself into practicing my magic with a frenzy driven by the need to get House Medeis back. And it didn’t hurt that if I focused on my magic I didn’t have to dwell on my parents’ actions.

  It had been my parents who sealed my magic…and they never told me about it.

  I had gone through life picked on, looked down on, and bullied because I had barely any magic at all, even though I was the Heir to House Medeis.

  I had lost House Medeis because of that lack of magic when Mason—my distant cousin who was also a member of House Medeis—had threatened to kill off friends and family who belonged to House Medeis if I didn’t marry him and make him the leader of the House.

  Without magic, I couldn’t fight back. Everyone in House Medeis—everyone I loved—sacrificed themselves for me to see that I made it out alive. They were still under his control, and given his many allies, they couldn’t fight back either.

  All of this because my parents had sealed me.

  To make matters even worse, the condition they put on breaking the seal? It was the desire to kill.

  House Medeis is a House of peace-lovers. They don’t believe in killing—even in self-defense—and they don’t look highly at fighting either.

  My parents made the condition of the seal something that went against the foundation of House Medeis.

  I didn’t regret my decision to take out Solene-the-crazy-vampire—which was what cracked the seal on my magic. I’d never regret killing a murderer or stepping in to protect those important to me—Celestina, Josh, and yes, even Killian.

  But it made me wonder why my parents had done it, when it was something they personally would have abhorred. Had they wanted me to live a life without magic and to experience pain that wasn’t necessary?

  It was easier to push it to the back of my mind and forget about it.

  So I experimented with magic and embraced my packed training schedule—and the new clothes Killian had ordered for me. I now had pants and a shirt made of soft but durable fabric that didn’t give me rugburn when I skidded in it, as well as a black jacket that had the texture of leather but conformed to my movements like a plant-based material. (They smelled like fae magic, so I was guessing Killian had them made for me.)

  “This isn’t an official match.” I eyed Tasha—the female vampire Celestina had paired me against for the day.

  “If you say so, Wizard.” Tasha smiled all too beautifully.

  “Look, I want to practice a move, but if you’re going to be serious about this like Gavino, Chancer, and Dimitri all claimed they were, then I can’t try out this new type of magic.”

  Tasha looked as innocent as a summer’s day. “Wizard,” she said. “They did not claim to be serious in their fights against you, they were. It’s why you have climbed ranks within the Family.”

  “Yeah, right.” I set my hands on my hips and stared up at the night sky and the moths fluttering around the bright lampposts—Celestina had sent us to practice outside for ‘educational purposes’. “Look, can I practice this, or not?”

  Tasha gave me a showy bow, which I took as an agreement.

  I took a deep breath and extended my katana, pointing at Tasha.

  Lightning jumped from my sword and danced in front of me, slowly creating a wall between the two of us.

  The lightning hissed and spat when Tasha bat
ted at it. “My,” she said. “That is quite dangerous indeed.”

  I tried to extend the lightning around me to create a barrier, but I couldn’t manage it. The lightning was too unstable, and I nearly lost it.

  It was certainly better than the fire barriers I had tried—Chancer hadn’t even paused at that. It was better than the ice wall I had tried to make—Dimitri had punched through it as if it were tissue paper.

  But sweat dripped down my spine, and my temple pounded with the effort it took to contain and control the lightning—which is by nature far more volatile.

  Tasha batted at it again, almost shattering my tenuous control.

  Nope, a defensive wall of lightning wasn’t going to work. I needed a different medium.

  I cut off my magic, letting the wall fizzle out. “Thanks, Tasha, that helped a lot!” I broke into a yelp when Tasha lunged for me, her red eyes bright.

  I ducked just in time, and she barely cleared my head, her nails stirring strands of my blond hair as she passed.

  “You said this wouldn’t be an official match!” I adjusted my grasp on my katana as I swung around to face her, using my momentum to swing my sword in a diagonal cut.

  Tasha was nowhere near me, but it hadn’t been my aim to stab her.

  Lightning jumped off my katana. Tasha dodged it, but I was already following through with a slice that unleashed another wave of lightning on her.

  I needed to keep her away from me.

  Every time I fought a vampire in close range, things got dicey.

  Tasha dodged the lightning again and managed to edge the tiniest bit closer.

  Sweat dripped down my back, and I tried backing up. But it’s hard to keep the momentum required to push your sword forward while backing up, so Tasha was closing in on me even while I directed lightning strikes at her.

  She waited for an opening, and got her chance when I finished a diagonal slice and had to adjust my katana.

  She struck like a snake, jabbing at my neck with one hand and following it up with a stab at my gut. I ducked to the side and tucked myself into a roll. About a month ago, Josh spent a week teaching me the proper way to roll, so my shoulder struck the ground first and I popped upright with my sword ready and a lightning bolt charged.