by Sarina Dorie
Just as Vega had once insisted to Galswintha the Wise, the dragon egg was unnecessary. The properties of that would be better for resurrection—a permanent form of necromancy—rather than the creation of life.
I also needed a few drops of Maddy’s blood. I approached her the next day, pulling her into the privacy of my closet. “I’ve been working on the spell we talked about.”
Her eyes went wide. “You have?”
“I have a list of items you need to bring me. If they are contaminated in any way, it will ruin the potion. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“I need a vial of virgin’s blood, and if you can’t get me that, virgin tears will do. But you have to be absolutely certain she’s a virgin, someone who is capable of calling unicorns.” That would be a good way for her to determine if someone truly was a virgin. Those chauvinistic unicorns were picky enough that they would know the difference.
I gave her a list of herbs to collect from the forest. Her eyes lit up in eager delight. “Greenie knows herbs. She can help me.”
I channeled my inner Felix Thatch, sounding sterner than I meant. “Don’t tell her what this is for. If you do, you are putting her in jeopardy. This is a secret the Fae have been after. If they get any idea in their heads that anyone besides me knows any portion of it, they will kill you to get it. They will torture the truth out of you.”
She swallowed.
“I have further requirements of you. And some suggestions,” I said, knowing this was crossing into dangerous territory. “If your firstborn is to survive under the sea, it won’t do any good for you to give birth to a baby who can’t breathe underwater. Am I correct?”
She nodded. “I can breathe underwater because I’m a siren. Probably any children I have would be able to.”
“There’s also a chance this baby might take after the father. If you don’t want this baby to drown, you should consider who the sperm donor is.” That’s how I thought of it. Not a father. “A rock affinity or an ice affinity aren’t going to cut it. You need to find a nice boy who is a siren, undine, or merman.” If she could find an undine. Probably they’d all gone extinct.
Her brow crinkled. “Okay. I guess I’ll look around.”
“Also, you are not to drink this potion until next September. It will be toxic until it has had a few months to ferment.”
“Like alcohol?” she asked.
“Exactly.” Actually, because I didn’t want her to get prematurely pregnant and drop out of high school early.
“But what if it doesn’t work?” she asked. “If I cast the spell and then I have sex and nothing happens, I’m going to have to try it again. The King of the Pacific—”
“It will work,” I said. It had worked for Vega. It would work for Maddy. “There will be a price, though. You’re going to be like Imani after this.” Thatch had said there was another way, but he hadn’t been forthcoming about giving it to me. “You’re going to have powers you won’t be able to control, and you’re going to have to learn to deal with them. It’s going to make you vulnerable, and if Fae find out you are a Red affinity, they will want to use you. Do you understand?”
“I do.” She nodded emphatically.
I stared into her eager face. “Once you’re one of us, it can’t be undone.”
“All right already. I got it. This is dangerous. Blah blah blah.”
I raised an eyebrow at her, not appreciating her cavalier attitude.
Her gaze drifted to her feet. “Sorry.”
“Give me your hand.” I said the words, and it reminded me of my older sister when she’d once said it to me.
Maddy did so, no hint of fear or distrust in her eyes.
“Close your eyes.” I tried not to let the nervousness in my body give me away.
I understood why my sister, Missy, had asked me to do this. I had assumed that it was to trick me because she had thought I wouldn’t have given her my blood willingly. I would have, though. She probably had known that too. I would have given anything to save my sister.
Just like I would do anything to save Maddy.
“No peeking,” I said. “This is part of the spell.”
The surprise and shock that came with the blood was what I needed to fulfill the spell’s requirements. It was that burst of emotional energy I had to capture in the droplets of blood. I used my competency bracelet, twirling it, and blinking three times. It was enough to give me the burst of skill I needed to gather up the emotional energy and bottle it with her blood. I couldn’t imagine how Vega had done this on her own.
“Take a deep breath,” I told her. “Exhale.”
I removed the knife from the shelf, along with the vial. I fortified myself with a deep breath of my own. A little smile played on Maddy’s plump lips, her youthful face full of hope and eagerness as she waited. She was so serene and beautiful, even with the scars on her face. I didn’t relish the idea of hurting her.
I stabbed her finger with the knife. She cried out, but she didn’t open her eyes. I didn’t want to drop the knife, so I bit onto the blade with my teeth. That gave me two hands so I could hold on to her finger as I pressed it to the vial.
Tears dribbled down her cheeks. I imagined she must have felt betrayed that I hadn’t told her what I was about to do. I had felt betrayed when my sister had stabbed my hand. Part of me felt betrayed every time Thatch used pain magic on me and didn’t allow me to shield myself.
I pushed these thoughts away. It was necessary to focus on the pain and shock, to bind that to the blood before it escaped. I immersed myself in the process, separating myself from empathizing.
I became one with the magic. I breathed in her hurt feelings and the zing of the cut throbbing in her finger and infused it into the drops of blood. Part of the binding of liquid and emotion required my own magic. I expected it to be difficult; I wasn’t a blood affinity.
Yet my magic responded to the blood and pain in a way it usually only reserved for pleasure. Electric currents raced under my skin and into the vial collecting her blood, joining with her essence and infusing my magic into it.
With detached interest, I saw how this was like a vaccine of antibodies I was creating. I would combine my electrical magic with her magic in a small dose, altering her blood so that it wouldn’t later be rejected by her body because her magic wouldn’t sense the foreign threat. She would drink the brew. When I gave her doses of electricity harnessed by my magic, she would be ready to accept it.
If anything went wrong with the concoction I was making, the electricity would kill her, if the toxins in some of the ingredients didn’t.
This was where my biological mother had gone wrong in the beginning. The only part that surprised me was that she hadn’t figured it out sooner. Apparently she hadn’t thought to resurrect her adoptive mother to ask her. Or she hadn’t known Galswintha the Wise had been sealed up in the school library crypt.
Such a pity. I would have thought Alouette Loraline would have been more clever than that. I would have thought Thatch might have as well. But I was more brilliant than them both. I was smarter than Vega.
Power surged through me, making me feel giddy on the magic I was using.
“Can I open my eyes now?” Maddy asked.
“Uh-huh,” I said around the knife. It didn’t make a difference whether she looked or not.
She stared at me, her eyes growing wide. It was a strange look to give her savior.
I breathed in her fear, mingling with her innocence. I didn’t need to take more of her emotional pain, but I didn’t let go of her hand. The air tasted like caramel, so sweet it made my teeth ache. No, not my teeth. My soul. I drank it in.
Maddy’s voice came out tremulous. “Your eyes look . . . different.”
Part of me wanted to ask her in what way. Around the knife between my teeth, my words came out, “Mmm.”
Maddy tried to pull her hand away. I held on with strength I wasn’t usuall
y capable of.
I was so strong.
Powerful.
Unstoppable.
It felt so right. So delicious. I wanted more.
“Aren’t the Raven Queen’s eyes all black like that too?” Maddy asked. “That’s what Imani told me.”
That’s what Thatch’s eyes looked like when he was high on pain magic. A distant part of me reminded myself that it scared me when his eyes turned all black. Yet I didn’t care if I looked scary. I wasn’t bad like anyone in the Raven Court. I wasn’t evil. I was doing this for good. I was helping people.
Just like my mother had.
Something about the idea of that jarred me.
I blinked. My mother had good intentions, but that hadn’t stopped her from performing heinous deeds. I recognized I didn’t want to be lured into that hole.
I had enough blood. Dropping her hand was like ripping off a bandage. I let go and stepped back. I corked the vial and removed the knife from my mouth.
I flashed an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. It’s part of the magic.”
“It’s dark magic,” Maddy said. “There’s a reason it’s forbidden.”
I tried to wave off her concern. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
She laughed, but there was an edge in her voice. She smoothed out the list against her school uniform, pretending to study the ingredients while I rearranged the art supplies in my closet to hide the vial and bloody knife until I had time to use them next.
“How long do I have to collect all this?” she asked.
“I guess you can take as long as you want. All summer.” But if I left for the Raven Court’s castle and they captured me and killed me, the spell would be left unfinished. I would break my promise to Maddy. “Correct that. Get everything to me this week.”
“That would make me feel better. I don’t want you to have to wait to get started on this until next school year and then have to wait for months as it ferments.”
I nodded. “After you drink it, someone has to give you small inoculations of electrical magic for it to be effective.”
“Like you or Imani.”
I hesitated, considering whether I wanted to involve Imani in this. It might be necessary if I died. “Yes.”
Vega was another option, but I didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t know whether Vega would help her or not. Nor was knowledge of Vega’s affinity mine to share. I didn’t want to put her in danger. I must have felt some of myself returning if I was worried about Vega.
Maddy scuffed her shoe against the dirt on the stairs. She looked like she wanted to say something. Probably she was going to tell me what a jerk I was. I would deserve it. I had felt myself turn into another person.
A person I didn’t like.
As I turned from the closet, Maddy hugged me. “Thank you for helping me, Ms. Lawrence. You’re so good to me.”
I patted her back before drawing away. I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Careful who you thank in this realm. Some people might require a favor in return for a good deed.”
“Yeah, but you aren’t like that.”
Not yet. If I wasn’t careful, though, I might lose my humanity and end up becoming a wicked witch like my biological mother. I could see why Thatch hadn’t wanted me to pursue this path to save Maddy. I might lose my soul in the process.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Spell Check
The preparation for Maddy’s spell was only one of the items on my to-do list. I had to improve my skills and abilities in all magics if I was to be strong enough to trick the Raven Queen and steal my fairy godmother out from under her nose.
I worked on Hailey’s doppelgänger spell, creating versions of myself and Thatch. With his assistance, we perfected these life-sized automatons, making them perform simple actions such as walking. We both practiced conjuring them in a split second so that we could use them as a distraction if needed.
I should have spent more effort teaching classes, preparing lessons, and grading papers. Balthasar came to me after school every day for tutoring, to get his grades up so he could graduate. I wanted to help him. I had promised his sister I would.
Yet I also needed to help my mom. Graduation wasn’t life or death. Surviving enslavement by the Raven Queen was.
Instead of focusing on teacher duties, I spent more and more time practicing magic. I used my art magic to practice seeing the present, spending far more time watching the Raven Queen than I should have. I snuck off to my closet and spied on Thatch during classes, though I wasn’t subtle enough for my ability to ever go without detection.
Often he met my eyes and said, “Is someone not being attentive to her teaching duties at the moment?”
His students laughed, thinking him eccentric.
If he continued to catch me, it meant the Raven Queen knew when I was watching her as well.
On one of these occasions, after Study Club had left, and I watched my fairy godmother in the Raven Queen’s castle, Lucifer jumped onto my desk, meowing pitifully as he gazed at his owner’s likeness in my sketchbook. For a cat, he was pretty clever. But then, he was no ordinary cat. He was my mom’s familiar.
I sketched, and the drawing came to life. Abigail Lawrence sat at a banquet table, her chair a mesh of plants that held her in place. Her arms were free to move, but there were cuts and scratches all over her and tears in her clothes. No doubt this was the doing of some of the thorny plants the Raven Queen made her fight off in her prison cell.
I watched in horror as the scene took shape.
“Ma chére, I am concerned about your health,” the Raven Queen said from her place at the head of the table. “You are my guest, and I am told you do not eat. You only drink water if it passes your inspections. Can I not tempt you to eat a little? Your daughter needs you strong for her.”
“It’s kind of you to inquire after my health, but I’m not hungry for Fae food.” Abigail Lawrence didn’t meet the Raven Queen’s eyes.
The guests around the table chortled.
The Raven Queen spoke with mock concern. “Oui, that is what Odette tells me. Pity we cannot entice you.”
I could feel the hunger radiating out of the vision and into me. Abigail Lawrence was weak, and the sight of the roasted meat made her feel faint. My adoptive mother closed her eyes, but she couldn’t get away from the smells. Hunger consumed her. If I could have reached through the drawing and given her nourishment and strength I would have.
All I could do was watch. All I could do was torment myself.
“I know you have certain eccentric tastes, being raised in the Morty Realm, which is why we brought you a special treat,” the Raven Queen draped herself languidly in her chair, flicking her hand at a servant who stepped forward. She whispered something to a man in black livery with a beak instead of a mouth and nose.
“I understand you are afraid to eat anything grown here. You don’t want to be bound to stay in the Faerie Realm, which is why I had a special dish prepared for you.” The queen’s lips twisted into a smile. “Of course, I suspected you might decline, making an excuse about detecting magical tampering. We had to limit the ingredients so you wouldn’t wonder if we added additional herbs. Odette assured me the herbs she collected came from your own home. Surely you’ll be able to detect this, no?”
Several servants came in, carrying an immense tray. The covered dish must have contained a roasted boar for how large it was. They shimmied the tray onto the table, shoving other dishes out of the way. Someone’s plate crashed to the ground. Another cracked and crunched under the weight of the giant covered platter.
“I knew any meat procured in the Faerie Realm would also be . . . unappetizing, considering your eccentricities,” the Raven Queen said. “Any lamb I had butchered for your meal would be suspect because you wouldn’t know if it was grown here or there. Even if you know the spell to detect the origin, you might be too weak to do so? Am I correct?”
More plates crashed
to the ground as the servants placed the dish before my mother.
“Odette was the one to suggest it. She truly is brilliant when she chooses to apply her creativity. She told me we would have to butcher a beast you knew in the Morty Realm in order for you to recognize it as safe. Sadly, there were no lambs in your yard. Nor cows or pigs.”
I thought of Buddy, the neighbor’s dog that Missy had butchered for a spell so long ago. My belly cramped. Mom stiffened in her chair.
The Raven Queen leaned against her hand, gazing at my fairy godmother. “Fortunately, we found something better.”
Dread settled in my stomach. The servants lifted the lid, a puff of steam swirling around the dish and obscuring it momentarily. I held my breath. It wasn’t a dog or a cat. It was so much worse.
The “beast” that had been butchered and cooked was a human being.
Abigail Lawrence screamed.
My eyes were riveted to the corpse in horror. It was impossible to tell what the woman had looked like when she’d been alive. Now that she had been cooked, she looked somewhere in between a roast turkey and a mummy. The only indication that gave away her identity was the gray wig, oversized glasses, and the purple dress she had been dressed in after she’d been cooked, reminding me of an elderly woman. Underneath her was arranged a pastel quilt, oily juices soaking into the fabric.
That’s when I knew who she was. This was my mom’s neighbor, the elderly woman who made quilts. My mom gave her jars of jam and pickles in the summer. The woman had loaned my mom quilts at Christmas when Imani, Maddy, and Hailey had stayed in the past.
I started to hyperventilate.
“I did say your meal contained nothing of this realm,” the queen said slyly. “Bon appétit.”
Mom covered her face and wept. My stomach churned, and I felt ill. Even so, I didn’t want the vision to stop.
Lucifer must have felt otherwise. The cat batted at my hand. My pencil went flying. The vision vanished.
“Son of a Fae!” I stood. “Do you realize what you just did?” I demanded, not expecting him to understand. “You just made me lose my focus. I’m not going to be able to see her with you in here.”