Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Legends

by Lydia Sherrer

  “Shame on you.”

  Lily’s voice shattered the silence and both he and Thiriel turned to stare at her, astonished. For a split second, he thought she was talking to him, but then she stood and took his hand, putting herself in front of him as if shielding him from Thiriel’s anger. To his utter horror, she proceeded to berate the queen. “Shame on you for expecting a human to do the work of a fae. No wonder he left. You don’t understand what this place is like for us, do you? You don’t understand the effect you have. You take unfair advantage of him and expect him to be grateful? Well, take it back. Take your power back and I’ll protect him myself. Don’t think I can’t, because I can.”

  Sebastian felt a dazed sense of elation at the ridiculous words coming out of Lily’s mouth. Despite everything he’d done, she was defending him. Not just defending him, but trying to save him.

  Him.

  It wasn’t as though he’d expected her to reject him completely—feared perhaps, but not expected. Such a one-eighty wasn’t like her. But he’d expected at least some semblance of self-preservation when confronted with someone both tainted by demons and beholden to the fae. She was completely ignorant of both demonology and the subtleties of fae magic, and yet here she was spouting off orders like she expected Thiriel to hop to it. He tensed, waiting for Thiriel to put this “puny human” in her place.

  But Thiriel just stared at them, unmoving. It took a moment for Sebastian to notice the pale glow Lily was emitting, white amid all the blue, green, and purple of bioluminescence.

  “Uh, Lily, you’re glowing.” He pointed out weakly.

  “Yes, I know.” She was surprisingly calm as she stared Thiriel down. “I understand something now that I couldn’t see until we came here, where the Source is so much stronger. My gift—the angelic magic, or whatever it is—I can see it now. I can command it. And she knows it.” There was the slightest hint of threat in her tone.

  Sebastian gaped. It was ridiculous, but so glorious he could no longer concentrate on being upset. She was regal in her confidence, like a queen herself surrounded by angelic glory. And she was doing it for him.

  “Ahem.” A cat clearing its throat didn’t have quite the same air of solemnity as a human doing the same. It sounded more like he was trying to hack up a hairball. But it had the desired effect, and all eyes dropped to Sir Kipling sitting on the floor between them. The cat had that lazy-eyed look he adopted whenever Lily was being particularly obtuse. He, too, was glowing faintly. “Before anyone does anything rash, I’ve been given a message to convey.”

  Turning to Thiriel, he spoke, but no longer in his own voice. The voice was deep and resonant, like the reverberating toll of a massive bell. “Remember your purpose. Aid these image-bearers and the prophecy will be fulfilled in due time.” He paused, clearing his throat again in a normal, hairball-hacking voice. “Ahem, yes. That is all. Carry on.” Tail held high, he sauntered off toward the inner chamber, apparently ready for more poking about.

  Inasmuch as Sebastian had ever seen her show emotion, Thiriel looked speechless. Her blank eyes followed the cat as his glow faded and he disappeared into the dimness. Then she looked back at Lily, then at him, then at Lily again.

  “Yes, he does that sometimes.” Lily offered, as if answering a question. “I promise, it’s as annoying to us as it is to you.”

  Thiriel slowly but gracefully sank back down into her chair. “I believe,” she said, voice soft, “that we need to talk.”

  Sebastian looked at Lily, who returned his gaze with a determined nod, and they both settled back into their stone chairs.

  As succinctly as they could manage, they told Thiriel about John Faust and his plans concerning Morgan le Fay. Just as Sebastian had predicted, the fae queen was extremely interested to discover that Lily was a descendant of Morgan. It seemed the fae had been looking for that ancient wizard for a very long time. They had given Morgan magic, and they wanted it back. Pretty badly, too, judging by the glow of Thiriel’s eyes when she spoke of it.

  Sebastian and Lily settled in for what was clearly going to be a lengthy how-to-get-rid-of-Morgan-le-Fay brainstorming session. An attendant brought a platter of fresh fruit and mushrooms along with a bowl brimming with dried nuts for them to munch on. After the other fae had left, Lily gave Sebastian a questioning look. He led by example and popped a chestnut into his mouth, grinning at the flavorful, almost sweet crunch of it between his teeth. Fresh food from the fae realm was nothing to worry about. It was their prepared dishes you had to watch out for, since you had no idea what was in them.

  As they talked, Sebastian started to think that perhaps an alliance with the fae wouldn’t be so bad after all. No one had mentioned the elephant in the room yet, though. Well, either of the elephants. He knew Thiriel hadn’t forgiven him, even if she seemed willing to let the matter of his “caretaker” duties drop as long as he was helping them get to Morgan. And as for the other elephant, Sebastian knew Lily would be pestering him with questions about this “prophecy” as soon as they were on their own.

  The problem was, he didn’t know what to tell her. He barely knew any more than she did. Thiriel had made esoteric references to it on several occasions, but all he’d gathered so far was that it had to do with bringing balance, and that the fae took it very seriously. There had been a time back when he’d lived with the fae that Thiriel seemed to think he was a part of it. While he certainly wanted to do right by the fae—inasmuch as he was capable—he refused to get roped into some cosmic struggle for “balance,” whatever the fae thought that meant. He had more important things to do. Namely, watch Lily’s back.

  Heart full, not caring what Thiriel thought anymore, Sebastian couldn’t help staring at Lily while she listened to the fae queen. This incredible woman was like a burr: prickly and impossible to get rid of. While those might be negatives in the case of a burr, he felt they were Lily’s best qualities. Her stubborn refusal to see sense and hightail it for the hills was impossibly endearing. It wasn’t that she was besotted with him like some girls had been—in fact, she took every opportunity to point out his faults. As crazy as it sounded, she genuinely seemed to think him worth sticking up for. No one had ever done that before. Not since his parents had died had he felt anyone was solidly, unequivocally on his side.

  Just past his friend, Sebastian could see Sir Kipling nestled in a comfortable catloaf position on a bed of soft moss, observing their powwow. The cat’s disgustingly self-satisfied expression—as if he had single-handedly brought them all to this point—made Sebastian grin. Perhaps the crafty feline had. He was, after all, one helluva cat.

  Tucking his grin away, Sebastian remembered that he’d once thought Lily’s friendship was enough—or at least all he’d ever get. Now…he barely dared hope. Yet that tiny bit of hope was all it took to topple his carefully constructed walls and let his heart feel in a way it hadn’t for years. It left him completely vulnerable in the most terrifying, yet thrilling way. Now if only he could figure out how to express all that to Lily.

  Though distracted by the new flood of feelings coursing through him, he did manage to focus enough to participate in the planning as they took advantage of Thiriel’s inside knowledge of Morgan’s involvement with the fae. She’d been there, after all.

  According to the brief and circumspect explanation they pried out of her, that whole episode in history had been a regrettable mistake. Though perhaps it only seemed that way in hindsight. One of the high fae of Kaliar’s court had given some of his magic to a young Morgan as a gesture of faith and goodwill. The hope had been that she could help usher in an era of peace and cooperation between humans and fae during a time when some of the population still believed in such things. But when she had betrayed their trust and used the magic to further her own quest for power, they’d withdrawn completely and given up humanity as a lost cause, focusing instead on their commission to tend the earth.

  “If things had progressed naturally,” Thiriel said, face as emotionless as
ever, “once Morgan le Fay died, the gifted magic would have returned to the earth and, eventually, to its rightful owner.”

  “Only, she never died,” Lily pointed out, busy eating a handful of grapes that must have been rather tart, judging by her puckered lips.

  “Correct,” Thiriel agreed. “She simply disappeared, and we have not been able to discover her whereabouts in the centuries since.”

  “Bummer.” Sebastian quipped. Both women turned to glare at him, but he just shrugged, feeling remarkably, perhaps even recklessly, carefree. Lily had stood up for him. She wasn’t going anywhere—her words—and he was determined to not let any amount of fae drama ruin his good mood.

  Choosing to ignore his insensitive humor, Lily pulled out her eduba from her bag and got down to business. Using Thiriel’s knowledge, combined with their translation of Morgan’s diary—imperfect as it was—they concocted a plan to strip that ancient wizard of her fae magic. It was the first step to defeating her. If they could reduce her power, they might have a chance of neutralizing her and stopping John Faust.

  Unfortunately for them, Thiriel staunchly refused to help with the actual fighting, insisting that the less fae meddled in human affairs, the better. She carefully did not look at him as she said it. Her only concern, she insisted, was returning what had been lost.

  Sebastian, of course, knew that was a load of garbage. Thiriel had much more up her sleeve than she would ever share with them. There was something the fae were looking for among humankind. Whether it was a specific person, situation, or item, he had no clue. All he knew was that they were obsessed with balance, didn’t have it, and wanted it back.

  For now, he and Lily needed to focus on the task at hand: stopping a certain Mr. Fancypants and knocking Morgan down a few notches. But as they said their goodbyes and were led out of Thiriel’s court toward home, Sebastian knew with absolute certainty that even if they survived this encounter with Morgan, they hadn’t seen the last of the fae. Not by a long shot.

  Part II

  Episode 8

  The Good Fight

  1

  West Country

  When Lily woke Wednesday morning in her hotel bed, she spent the first few sleep-muddled seconds trying to figure out where she was and why she felt so empty. Then, when the vague, half-formed memories began to trickle in, she spent the next five minutes trying to decide if the last twenty-four hours had just been an especially vivid dream. It had felt so real, and yet now the memories were faded and distant. Had she really traveled to a subterranean chamber full of living light and told off a fae queen for hurting her friend? She blushed at the mere thought, rather hoping it had all been a ridiculous dream.

  Sir Kipling interrupted her confused thoughts by jumping up on the bed and giving her a good lick on the nose.

  “Ew! Stop it, you ridiculous cat,” Lily protested, pushing him away and sitting up. As she did, something small rolled off her chest and fell into her lap. She stared down at the smooth river stone, still glowing the faintest blue. Her memories sharpened. She’d seen the stone on the ground near the twisting root bridge in Thiriel’s court and had picked it up on impulse, perhaps to prove to herself that she’d been there.

  So, not a dream.

  Lily groaned, flopping back down on the bed with the stone in her hand. She couldn’t even comfort herself by pretending it was a stray pebble with blue paint on it. Just holding it in her hand she felt the echo of power that had filled her from the moment she’d set foot in Melthalin. Closing her eyes, she savored the exquisite memory. She’d never felt so close, so in tune with her magic. It had leapt excitedly at her least command, responding to thoughts and intentions as easily as it did to words. And that other magic…the angelic magic. She reached out with her mind, suddenly desperate to feel it again. But all she could detect was the barest whisper where before there had been a roar. Well, at least she still could feel something. Before yesterday she hadn’t even been consciously aware it was there. Back here in the human realm, her mind felt sluggish: slow to respond and slow to understand. She might have done great things yesterday, but she despaired at ever being able to replicate them here.

  Speaking of yesterday, she thought back, trying to fix as much detail in her memory as possible so as not to forget the important things they’d discussed, such as Morgan le Fay and how to separate her from her fae magic. Of course, that brought back other memories, like the mix of terror and anger she’d felt at the thought of losing Sebastian to that—that hussy of a fae queen. She couldn’t believe her own audacity. The whole time she’d been filled with a giddy sense of invulnerability, body reacting instinctively to her flared emotions while her mind dithered in terror.

  But she’d done it. Sebastian was safe—at least for now. There hadn’t been any true resolution, just an unspoken agreement to let the matter drop for the time being.

  Not one to dwell on unpleasantries, Lily instead savored the feeling of…the only word she could think to describe it was unity, with Sebastian. A wall had come down, perhaps not his only one, but it was a start. There was a new closeness between them, the unspoken knowledge that they knew each other’s dark secrets. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought, even as her insides squirmed. She didn’t like change. It was always messy and inconvenient. But then most things in life were.

  She sighed. At the very least, now she knew why he’d always been hesitant to talk about the fae. It made her feel better to know she wasn’t the only one with a screwed-up past. But seriously, she couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to tell her, as if he expected her to hate him for mistakes he’d made years ago. Yes, his vulnerability to demons worried her, but not because she was afraid of associating with him. She wasn’t afraid of him, she was afraid for him. Somehow they had to find a better way to keep him safe than this complicated relationship with the fae. At least, as long as Thiriel thought he belonged by her side in the fae realm instead of here helping Lily.

  Lily shook her head. On their own, they were two rather sorry individuals. But working together, maybe—just maybe—they could help solve each other’s problems.

  “We have a problem,” Sir Kipling commented from the end of the bed. After having his attempts at grooming summarily rejected, he’d retreated there to regroup.

  “Is that so?” Lily said, sitting up and throwing off the covers.

  “Yes, quite.”

  “And pray tell what is that?”

  “Room service forgot the salmon.”

  It didn’t take long to put on some clothes and head over to Sebastian’s room, which was suspiciously quiet—she assumed because he was asleep. They’d taken just enough time last night after returning from Melthalin to assure Hawkins they were not, in fact, dead, and give him a brief update before collapsing into bed. Something about moving between realms was particularly draining, and without the invigorating air of the fae realm, sleep hadn’t been an option, it had been an inevitability. But day had come and now they had things to do, so it was alarm clock time.

  Lily knocked on Sebastian’s door, eyebrows rising in surprise when he actually answered it. Still wearing yesterday’s clothes and with a bird’s nest on his head, he opened the door just enough to peek out. Lily could only see a sliver of his expression, but he looked like a man driven to exasperation.

  “What is it?” she asked, wary.

  “We have a problem.”

  Lily threw up her hands. “You and everyone else. Come on, what is it? We might as well get it over with.”

  He hesitated, but then opened the door wide enough for her and Sir Kipling to slip in after he’d carefully checked the hall for bystanders.

  As soon as Sir Kipling entered the room his ears went back and tail went down. “This place smells like dog. If that’s a new cologne or something, I’m declaring cat law and confiscating it.”

  Glad that Sebastian could no longer understand her ridiculous cat, Lily sniffed the air herself but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Sh
e was about to ask Sebastian what in the world was wrong when the bed came into view and she stopped in her tracks. “Oh, no. Not again.”

  Sitting on the bed was Thiriel’s fox messenger. At least, she thought that’s what it was. It wasn’t glowing silver this time and appeared to be a perfectly ordinary grey fox. But she could think of no other reason why a fox would be sitting calmly on Sebastian’s bed unless it had been sent by Thiriel. She eyed it suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Sebastian said, running a hand through his hair. At least that explained the bird’s nest.

  Sir Kipling remained by the door, back arched in hostility as he made little growling noises in his throat, tail thrashing back and forth.

  “I already told you, I am here to help.”

  Lily jumped. “It talks!”

  “Not exactly,” Sebastian said, now rubbing his face. “You can only hear it in your head.”

  “Rather convenient, if you ask me. Nobody really wants to know what a fox says, after all.”

  “But how?” Lily asked.

  Sebastian shrugged. “A gift from Thiriel, I expect.”

  “Quite right.”

  “But, what is it? Or…who are you?” she said, speaking directly to the fox.

  “I, my lady, am fox.”

  “Fox?” Lily glanced at Sebastian, not sure how to react.

  “More specifically, one half of fox, but still. The other half doesn’t like how you smell, so I came instead.”

  “Excuse me?” She was too shocked to decide if she should be offended or not.