Wicked Magic

by Margot de Klerk

The tension in the room seemed to break, and everyone turned to see the intruders.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Elder Nettle demanded.

  For a moment, no one moved. They’d got this far but there was no plan for what happened next. Nathan managed to catch Aodhán’s eye, and the druid vampire nodded slightly.

  “I’d like to speak,” Nathan said, marching in front of the group. He caught sight of Longhorn’s face—the man had gone satisfyingly pale. Nathan focused on that pale, fearful face and let it remind him of why he was doing this crazy, crazy thing. Interrupting the Council? Jeremiah had probably beheaded people for lesser sins. “We have uncovered a plot against the Council.”

  Several aides gasped. Ayotunde stood up abruptly. She was wearing a flowing red dress, which swirled dramatically about her body.

  “Preposterous,” she said. “Hunters, this child belongs to your ranks. Control him.”

  “Wait,” Jeremiah said. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Nathan. “He is accompanied by two of mine. I will hear him out.”

  Several people grumbled, but no one actually voiced an argument. Jeremiah turned to Nathan. “This is not news to us,” he said. “The witches wish for the vampires to step aside from the Council. They have already laid down their terms.”

  Nathan took a deep breath.

  “Patrick Longhorn is supporting them,” he said.

  Longhorn lurched to his feet. “Lies!” he shouted. “The boy is trying to discredit me. Benjamin, control your son.”

  Dad stepped forwards and laid a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “You should have asked me that before you left my son to die.”

  “I have evidence,” Nathan said. He spoke only to Jeremiah. Fuck the rest of them. Jeremiah would listen. “Longhorn told me this morning. My father was there. He can corroborate. The Hunter Council have been covering up the presence of the Sahir in the city for over six months, in return for them eliminating political targets. Just now—”

  His next words were drowned out by a wave of protests. The hunters were all denying it at once. Ayotunde and Antonius seemed to be trying to out-shout each other. All they ended up achieving was a whole lot of noise.

  “SILENCE!” Jeremiah yelled, getting to his feet. Everyone fell quiet. In the blink of an eye, Damien had left the front row of benches to stand beside Jeremiah.

  “So,” Jeremiah said evenly, “we have been betrayed on both sides.”

  “You’ll take the word of an uninitiated hunter over us?” Longhorn demanded. “Look at the company he keeps. Disgraced witches and turned hunters.”

  “Amongst that company is one of my men,” Jeremiah said. “A spy, if you will. Aodhán, would you like to weigh in on the discussion?”

  A fucking spy. Hah! Of course Jeremiah had sent Aodhán to spy on them. Nathan had to choke back a laugh at that.

  Aodhán stepped forwards.

  “We come from an old druid site near the castle,” he said. “The witches have preserved the site and have been using it to conduct vile rituals of dark magic. We interrupted one, the nature of which was to channel power to the Belladonna.”

  “Dark magic is forbidden in the city.” Jeremiah turned to the Belladonna. “What have you to say in your defence?”

  “This is a farce,” Elder Rowan spat. “The Belladonna upholds the law to the highest levels.”

  “She’s one of them,” Nathan said. He said it quietly, but the room had fallen silent, and everyone in the circle heard him. Well, it was out there now. He repeated, “She’s one of them.”

  “You dare?” demanded Elder Nettle. “A teenaged boy accuses the Belladonna, the highest authority in the city, of performing black magic?”

  “If she’s not,” Nathan replied, “then she can lift the sleeves of her robe and prove she’s not marked.”

  Silence reigned. Finally, Jeremiah turned to the Belladonna. “Let it be done, then we can lay the accusation to rest.”

  The Belladonna didn’t move, didn’t speak. The silence lasted so long that finally Elder Nettle got restless and turned to his leader. “What is the meaning of this? Surely you are not so modest that you will not set their minds at ease?”

  “She cannot,” Aodhán said quietly, but certainly. “Mr Delacroix is right. She is herself a member of the Sahir. Their leader, I suspect.”

  Jeremiah moved, quick as a flash, and then the Belladonna’s robe had been torn away at the sleeves, baring her arms. Sure enough, they were covered with the same distinctive tattoos that all the Sahir had.

  “The markings are the same,” Adrian said.

  “You have no proof,” the Belladonna snarled.

  “Oh, but we do,” Adrian said. He looked at Kseniya. “We have a member of the Sahir right here for proof.”

  Kseniya looked terrified. Nathan reached out a hand to her. She took it hesitantly, and he laced their fingers together. “It’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  Kseniya nodded, and Nathan gently nudged her sleeves up, showing off her arms. The marks were identical.

  “You testify that these are the markings of the Sahir?” Jeremiah asked.

  “They give us tattoos so they can share magic of all members,” Kseniya said. “Also for other things, like… invisibility.”

  “Then it is proven,” Jeremiah said. “The Belladonna is conducting forbidden magics in the city. She must be expelled from the Council.”

  The two other witch elders turned to their leader. “Is this true?” Elder Nettle demanded.

  “You believe others over your own Lady?” the Belladonna asked. Her voice seemed twisted, anger making her sound inhuman.

  “The evidence is incontrovertible,” Elder Rowan said. “You are unfit to rule.”

  Elder Rowan fired off a spell, but the Belladonna brushed the magic away as though it were nothing. Her laugh was like nails on a blackboard. It sent a shiver down Nathan’s spine.

  “You think your petty spells can harm me?” she asked. “Even if the ritual went incomplete, I have been tapping the power of the druid site for years. I am protected beyond measure, and I will complete my mission. The vampires must concede power to the witches or die.”

  She whipped out a knife from under her robe, one of the jagged knives belonging to the Sahir. It caught the light and seemed to glow like someone had switched on a blacklight, a sort of purplish-blue colour which was thoroughly unpleasant. Nathan’s eyes hurt when he looked directly at it.

  Elder Nettle began to chant, offensive magic gathering at his fingers and flying towards the Belladonna, but she slashed the knife downwards. It absorbed the magic first, and then it sliced Elder Nettle’s flesh. He collapsed instantly to the ground in a dead faint. At least, Nathan hoped he’d fainted, but he didn’t have any time to think about it. The Belladonna turned on the Vampire Council.

  Ayotunde raised her head in defiance. “You will not be able to kill us as easily as you think.” She moved in a blur. Nathan could hardly follow the movement, but somehow the Belladonna knew where Ayotunde would be. She swept the knife in an arc and the woman went flying across the room. She hit the first row of benches and collapsed to the floor. Her body didn’t dissolve into dust, but she didn’t get up either.

  Nathan had objectively known vampires could be knocked unconscious, but it took a hell of a lot. Usually, they healed too fast.

  The Belladonna began to move across the room. Slowly, step by step, she advanced towards the vampires. Nathan felt magic pressing down on him from all sides.

  “I have sealed the doors.” She cackled. “There is nowhere to run.”

  Beside Nathan, Kseniya fell to her knees, making a choked noise. Elder Rowan went down next, her papery hands clutching at her chest. Monica staggered towards Nathan but fell short.

  “Monica!” Nathan shouted, running to her. He crouched beside her. “What’s happening?”

  “She’s—draining—the—magic—out—of—the—room,” Monica choked out, straining to pronounce every word. “And—us.”
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br />   “What can I do?” Monica stared up at him, and Nathan knew what had to be done. He looked up at the Belladonna, in time to see Antonius lunge at her. Antonius was a warrior. Nathan knew nothing about him, but you could see it in the way he held his body, in the way he approached the Belladonna. He lived—and died—by the same principles that the hunters did. He had probably trained every year of his life, and every year since his death, too.

  He landed several blows that should have killed a mortal woman instantly, but they all seemed to bounce off the Belladonna. She slashed twice with the knife, and the second blow caught him. He crumpled, unconscious.

  Nathan was on his feet without really thinking about it. The spirit knife formed in his hand, and then he threw it. Throwing knives had never been his favourite discipline, but he was suddenly grateful to Grey for insisting he learn. The Belladonna whipped around, parrying with deadly accuracy. The spirit knife clattered to the floor.

  “That was foolish,” she said. “Now you are unarmed.”

  “Oh, you really don’t understand hunters very well, do you?” Nathan asked. He held his hand out and the spirit knife reformed in it, like a reliable old friend.

  “How?” the Belladonna demanded. “The knife should have lost its magic.”

  “Some magics are just uniquely human,” Nathan said. “Whilst we’re on the subject, do you want to know what else humans are good at?”

  “Being bait?”

  “I was going to say self-belief.” Nathan lunged at her. She brought her knife down, but it never came near him. The ward Monica had returned to him earlier flared with power. It ate ambient magic, and it had been fed by Monica’s magic for weeks now. Monica, who was Nathan’s best friend. Monica, whom Nathan would kill and die for. He was pretty sure she’d do the same.

  He believed.

  The Belladonna’s robe caught fire. The flames licked rapidly over her body. She screamed.

  “NO!”

  In two steps, Damien was behind her. He stuck his hand through her ribcage with a crack that made Nathan shudder and tore her heart clean out of her chest.

  The Belladonna collapsed, dead in an instant.

  “We are also very good at distracting people,” Nathan joked, feeling a bit numb. Too much blood and gore in one day. He looked at Damien, and the vampire nodded back at him with respect in his gaze.

  It was over.

  Nathan went straight to Monica. She had managed to get herself upright again, and she threw herself into Nathan’s arms. In the background, he registered that Longhorn was kicking up a tremendous fuss as Dad and Uncle Jeff arrested him—could they even do that, arrest their boss?—but most of his attention was focused on Monica sobbing into his chest.

  “I thought she was going to kill you!”

  “Your magic protected me,” Nathan said. “Don’t worry, I had faith.”

  “Oh, of all moments for you to start believing in yourself!” Monica snapped, hitting him on the arm.

  Nathan laughed, holding her close. “I’m okay,” he said. “We’re all okay.”

  Slowly, gradually, Monica relaxed. “We did it.” She sighed into Nathan’s shoulder.

  “Yeah,” Nathan said, “we did it.”

  On the way out, the pigeon fluttered off his shoulder and into one of the side corridors. Nathan followed Cynthia, and courteously averted his eyes as she twisted and morphed and reformed into a human being. “Here,” he muttered, shrugging his jacket off and shoving it at her.

  “Thanks.” Cynthia took it. “You can turn around now.”

  Nathan’s jacket was irredeemably filthy, and not nearly long enough. It fell halfway down Cynthia’s thighs, and the rest of her was bare. If Nathan wasn’t so tired, his imagination would have been running wild.

  Cynthia stepped forwards and pressed her lips to his.

  “You are amazing,” she whispered against his mouth.

  “So are you,” Nathan replied.

  “Nah, you’re amazinger.” Cynthia pressed her body against his, kissing him again. Nathan put his hands on her hips, but he didn’t dare do anything, because he was too aware that she had nothing on beneath the jacket.

  “Later,” Cynthia murmured in his ear. She took his hand and slid it around to her bum. “Maybe we can have fun.”

  “Later,” Nathan agreed, smiling.

  “After showering,” Cynthia said, wrinkling her nose. “And having a nap.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Great.” Cynthia pecked him on the lips once more. “Let’s go find the others.”

  They stepped outside into the weak winter sunlight.

  EPILOGUE

  MUM AND DAD STAYED for Christmas, but a few days before New Year, Nathan came home to find they’d packed their things together in the hall. His parents were sitting at the table with Aunt Anna, drinking tea.

  “Hi,” Nathan said.

  “Oh, Nathan,” Mum said. “We were just waiting for you.”

  “Me?” Nathan asked.

  “Will you go to lunch with us?” Dad asked.

  “Sure, I guess.”

  They all piled into Dad’s car and drove into the city centre. “Where would you like to eat?” Mum asked.

  “I guess we could get pizza?” Nathan suggested.

  “Pizza it is,” Dad agreed. They went to Pizza Express. Nathan’s mind raced as they walked. Things had been quiet for the last two and a half weeks. Christmas had been surprisingly pleasant; Mum and Dad were being peculiarly accommodating. It was almost unsettling. Nathan kept expecting the next thing to go wrong. Was he in trouble now?

  They ordered their pizza. Once the waitress had departed, Mum said, “She couldn’t look away from you, Nathan.”

  “Really? Eh, Cynthia’s prettier.”

  “Oh, I told you he’d break hearts one day.” Dad chuckled, taking Nathan by surprise. He was in an oddly good mood.

  “Uh, what’s going on?” Nathan asked cautiously. “You guys are being… awfully understanding.”

  “We’ve been talking,” Mum said. Normally that sentence would fill Nathan with dread, but today his mother had a smile on her face.

  “Talking? About what?”

  “The future,” Dad said.

  “The events of the last few months,” Mum added.

  “We were wrong,” Dad started.

  It was a huge admission for a man who had believed in the absolute infallibility of the hunter ethos. Nathan wanted to smile, but he kept his face neutral, not wanting his father to take it back.

  “You’re not the typical hunter,” Mum said, “but that’s okay. You are your own person… and you’re successful as you are.”

  “Yes,” Dad said, “I’ve never seen anyone get the Vampire Council on board that way… Jeff battles every day to get them to toe the line, but they listen to you. So…”

  “So,” Mum took up when Dad ran out of words, “We’re going to… well, you can keep doing things the way you’ve been doing them. We’ll support you for initiations—when you want to do them, if you want to do them—and we’ll… support your… friendship with Adrian.” Every word pained her, but her voice rang with sincerity, and Nathan’s smile had never been bigger.

  “For real?” he asked.

  “As long as you don’t abuse that trust,” Dad said sternly. “No more secrets. No more lies. You tell us what you’re getting up to… you listen to our concerns as well.”

  “This is a two-way street,” Mum said. “We’ll listen to you, as well. If you can argue your case… we’ll try to trust that you know what you’re doing.”

  “Okay,” Nathan said. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

  Both of his parents seemed to sag in relief. Being profound had never been Nathan’s forte, but he gave it a shot anyway. “Guys, um, thanks. For supporting me when everything went down with the Sahir. I know it was… rough between us. And… I’m sorry I lied to you about, well, everything.” Nathan made a face. He felt like an idiot. “I appreciated your support, and
I appreciate this, too.”

  “You’re welcome,” Mum said.

  There was an awkward pause, during which all of them tried to figure out where to go next. They weren’t, Nathan reflected, the sort of family who shared their emotions freely. This was probably as deep as it was ever going to get… but Nathan was okay with that. After a moment, Dad changed the subject.

  “Have you thought when you would like to go for initiations?” he asked.

  “I’d like to finish school,” Nathan said. “I’m finally actually passing all my subjects, which is kinda refreshing, to be honest. After that… hopefully by then I’ll be sure,” he added. “I am fairly sure, now, but I think it depends on who takes over from Longhorn.”

  “They’ll be holding elections in March,” Dad said. “We’re hoping to finish the inquest by then. I’m sure there will be more arrests to come, but we’ve scaled the mountain now.”

  Several of the old, fiercely loyal hunter families had insisted on Dad running the inquiry into Longhorn’s activities. There’d been a backlash within the ranks against people like Longhorn, new blood in the hunter organisation, who might be bringing in dangerous new ideas. Even Nathan could see the risk. The moment you started collaborating with the supernatural, where did you draw the line? He understood his parents’ perspective, the reason why they’d been so angry with him for doing the same thing. Nathan had only been working with the vampires and witches for the good of everyone, but once you became friends with them, you started excusing their behaviour. Too many hunters stepping into that moral grey area was definitely dangerous for the organisation.

  The biggest benefit out of it was that his family had seen an improvement in their reputation. Enough of one, at least, that his parents were willing to relax their stance on Nathan fraternising with the enemy.

  “Well, we’ll know soon,” Nathan said, “but I still want to get my A-Levels first.”

  “That seems wise,” Mum said. “You’re a terrible multitasker.”

  “He gets it from you,” Dad joked.

  “Oh, really?” Mum said threateningly. “Do you really want to debate that?”

  They all chuckled.

  “Can we give you a lift back home?” Dad asked later, once they’d finished eating.