by Amy Patrick
Hidden Magic
Book Two of the Ancient Court Trilogy
Amy Patrick
Oxford South Press
Contents
Copyright
Prologue
1. Macy
2. Anders
3. Macy
4. Anders
5. Nic
6. Macy
7. Nic
8. Macy
9. Nic
10. Anders
11. Nic
12. Macy
13. Nic
14. Nic
15. Macy
16. Anders
17. Macy
18. Nic
19. Macy
20. Macy
21. Nic
22. Macy
23. Nic
24. Macy
25. Nic
26. Macy
27. Nic
Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
Acknowledgments
The Hidden Saga
Copyright © 2017 by Amy Patrick
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All rights are reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. All trademarks are the property of their respective companies.
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HIDDEN MAGIC is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, brands, media, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Oxford South Press/August 2017
Cover design by Cover Your Dreams
Prologue
The room was dimly lit and very quiet—except for his slow and steady breathing. Closing the heavy wooden door quietly behind me, I let my eyes adjust and tried to regulate my own rapid breaths and heartbeat.
A low-burning fireplace cast flickering shadows on the stone walls of the bedchamber. Dark drapes were drawn closed over the floor-to-ceiling windows, making midday seem like midnight. Nerves prickling, ears attuned to the slightest sounds, I crossed the cavernous room, my shoes scuffing softly on the Aubusson rug as I approached the bed.
When I reached Nic, my lungs emptied in a wheeze, leaving me gasping. His face was covered in a kaleidoscope pattern of small cuts, the result of his struggle with Dr. Schmitt last night and all the broken glass. Dark circles underscored his eyes, and even in his sedated deep sleep, a furrow marked his tanned brow, making him look like he was trapped in a troubled dream.
I probably should have felt some satisfaction at seeing him there, helpless and hurt. After all, he had betrayed me. And all for her.
But my desire for revenge drained away as my eyes roamed his unconscious face and long, motionless body. It wasn’t his fault. It was hers. It was all of them. This was what they did to us—made us weak—made us turn against each other. Dr. Schmitt was right. About everything.
And that was why I would help Dr. Schmitt enact his plan. We’d be rid of the troublesome and oh-so-prolific human race once and for all, and we’d finally be safe.
Just as I turned to go, Nic made a noise, a muffled cry, as if perhaps he were shouting down some threat within his dream. Or trying to warn someone. On instinct I reached for him but recoiled, withdrawing my hand before it made contact with his face.
My touch would not comfort him, would not heal his injuries. It would only make him sicker.
I spun and headed for the door, startling when it opened before I even touched it. Giant frozen fingers squeezed my heart as two people stepped inside. And then I let out the breath I’d swallowed.
“Mamma, Babbo—what are you doing here?”
“What are you doing in here, Alessia?” my mother asked, her stern tone matching the hard look in her eyes. She disapproved. Well, what’s new?
“I… came to check on him. He is still my fiancé.”
“That’s not what we heard. We were told you’d lost another one,” my father said.
My back stiffened, and my eyes blurred in a spontaneous wash of moisture. I blinked forcefully to keep it from spilling over. “No. The wedding is still on. As soon as he recovers. Nothing has changed.”
Both of them studied me in silence. Finally, Mamma said, “Good. But you should probably keep your distance until he is fully recovered. You know with your…” She left off the rest of the sentence, but the familiar look of distaste on her face said it all.
“I know,” I interrupted. “I didn’t touch him.”
“And you haven’t told anyone?” Babbo asked, his voice ringing with anxiety.
“Of course not.” I had to turn away and face the bed because the hot tears were back, rushing too quickly this time for me to contain them.
I had never told anyone about my secondary glamour. My musical glamour was obvious—it was the cornerstone of my career as a performer—but I had followed my parents’ strict instructions my whole life and kept my other glamour a secret. No royal family wanted that particular “gift” in their gene pool. No one would want me if they found out. And that was the other reason I found it difficult to stay too angry with Nic.
He did know. His annoying glamour had outed me on the first occasion we’d met. He’d read my deepest desire—to be rid of this curse—which had made me furious. But he’d promised to tell no one, and he was nothing if not honorable. So other than him and my parents, only Dr. Schmitt knew the whole truth about me.
I made people sick. Literally.
It was most powerful with humans—I couldn’t get close to them at all, unless I wanted them passing out or vomiting on my shoes. And though it was less severe with other Elves, the effect was still there. After enough time in close proximity to me I could see their faces contract and sour, and they inevitably excused themselves to “get some air” or “go to the toilet.”
So I kept my distance. From everyone. It was fine. I was used to it. Even my own parents had avoided touching me as much as possible since birth and had taught me not to touch others. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I didn’t need physical contact anyway. I didn’t get why other people—especially humans—were so touchy-feely.
Whether because I seemed cold and standoffish to them or because they had an innate sense of the danger I posed, people of every variety generally tended to avoid me. Only Dr. Schmitt had ever sought out my company. He actually admired my hidden glamour. He’d picked it up immediately after seeing me near one of the fan pod girls in his clinic and was even helping me learn to control it somewhat.
“It’s there for a reason, Alessia,” he’d assured me. “It’s a defense mechanism, and a magnificent one. If only all our people had it—we wouldn’t even need the Plague. You are a miracle. And you are uniquely qualified to help our race survive and conquer.”
He would be expecting me soon, ready to continue our work. Thinking of his accepting smile, I was overcome with the urge to get out of this suffocating room and back to his clinic, the only place I felt truly wanted in this castle. Anywhere, in fact.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and swiped quickly at my wet cheeks before turning back to my parents. “You never told me what you’re doing here.”
My father smiled. “
We came to see if it’s true. If Nicolo really did come into contact with nymph blood. I never in all my days imagined something like that was actually possible.”
“Well, he’s alive, isn’t he?” I snapped. “And his cuts are healing quickly. Dr. Schmitt said they’ll probably vanish by the end of the day. There’s not that much to see.”
Mamma pushed past me, moving to Nic’s bedside and turning on the lamp. Peering at him in wonder, she clasped her hands over her sternum. “It’s remarkable. Just imagine what we could do with her blood.”
“He won’t like it,” Babbo said, tossing his head toward Nic’s sleeping form.
“He’ll do what’s best for his people—as we all do,” Mamma said sharply. “And Dr. Schmitt says the nymph will be drained and long gone before the young prince ever wakes up.”
Nic’s legs twitched violently, causing both my parents to take a step back from the bed. “Let’s hope so,” My father said. “I’d hate to be on the wrong end of one of those kicks—he does it professionally after all—barbaric sport.”
“We should go now.” I was slightly unnerved by the sight of my parents looming over Nic’s unconscious form. And by the paranoid thought he might be able to hear the conversation occurring around him. “We’re disturbing his rest.”
The three of us left the room together. I cast one last glance at Nic before pulling the door closed behind me. The next time I saw him, all this turmoil would be just a bad memory. Along with the girl who’d come between us, and all the people she knew and loved.
1
Macy
Now I had two ghosts following me.
Before, as I backpacked across Europe, I was trying—not very successfully—to outrun the memory of how I’d ruined my sister Lily’s life and let my family down. Only spending time with Nic had made me feel there might still be some point to everything, made me feel like I could possibly do some good with my life still. He’d given me hope. He’d given me… love.
But now—well, now he was gone, and soon the entire human race would be gone if Nox and his friends couldn’t figure out how to stop Dr. Schmitt and his Plague. I shivered. Dr. Schmitt.
Though it had been nearly ten months since my real-life nightmare, I rarely spent a night without seeing him and trying to escape his creepy dungeon clinic. I’d bolted awake early this morning in a cold sweat, my shouts of terror waking up my roommates at the youth hostel. No doubt they were thrilled to learn the gloomy Missouri girl with sleep issues was moving on today.
I looked up at the towering profiles of the skyscrapers all around me as I trudged down the street toward the Port Authority bus terminal. The sidewalks swarmed with busy Manhattan-ites on their way to work, with tourists from every corner of the world staring wide-eyed at the famous city’s colossal billboards and the enticing storefronts lining Times Square.
It had been a good place to get lost for a while. The fascinating array of people, the street performers, the odd jobs I’d been able to pick up, the cheap but good food options. It had all provided a much-needed distraction from my inner monologue of doom and depression, besides giving me another checkmark on my map of major U.S. points of interest.
The map was the only thing keeping me going. Nox’s bond-mate had chased me down the driveway with it when I’d left their beachfront mansion in L.A. all those months ago. She’d pressed the folded paper into my hands, wishing me safe travels and good luck. As much as I would have liked to wave it away and dismiss her encouraging words, there was something in her eyes when I met them that told me she was no stranger to grief herself.
“Thanks,” I’d mumbled. “Tell Nox I’ll check in soon.”
It was about time to do that again. For my parents’ sanity, I contacted them every few weeks to let them know I was still alive and where I was traveling. Nox had asked me for the same courtesy, and I owed it to him to do at least that much. I also needed to check on Olly. She was home in England with her parents and safe, but it made me uncomfortable to know Dr. Schmitt and Alessia and who-knew-who-else in the Ancient Court knew exactly where to find her—if they ever wanted to do so.
The internet café was right where one of the girls at the hostel had said it would be. I ducked inside, ordered some breakfast, and chose an empty terminal. The place was crowded, overly warm, and scented with a blend of coffee and cooking grease, but it had a friendly, welcoming vibe.
Cafés like this one abounded in Europe but were pretty rare in the U.S. Of course, New York had at least one of everything, and it actually had quite a few places you could use a computer and get online—even some Burger Kings offered public computers. I needed to take advantage of the opportunity before boarding the bus to my next destination, which might or might not have a place like this where I could spend an hour or so sending emails and perusing the internet, catching up on news.
Logging on and opening my inbox, I found several emails from Mom, each of them filled with news about my family and friends back home. One had an attachment—a picture of Lily, dressed up and smiling widely in her wheelchair at her middle school’s semi-formal dance. A rush of emotion flooded my chest and blocked my throat—a wistful blend of pride and guilt that was unavoidable anytime I thought about her.
As usual, Mom’s chatty updates were laced with a subtle note of concern for her absentee daughter. As usual, I ignored it and focused my response on the positive. I told her about New York as well as my tours of Maine and Rhode Island, the last two places I’d visited before coming to the city. After informing her that New Orleans would be my next stop and promising to check in again soon, I emailed Nox.
When I’d left his house ten months ago, I’d gone straight to the bus station and taken a cross-country trip, working my way to the East Coast. He and his friends and bandmates had been great, but I’d needed to get as far away as possible from them all. A pack of hot Elven guys always hanging around was not exactly helping me move past what had happened with Nic. Nox, Anders, Rolf, and Matteus were living, breathing reminders of a painful past I had no choice but to get over.
He must have been up early and online or have his emails going to his phone because his reply came quickly.
Nox: Where are you?
Hmm. That was odd. He always began his communications with a friendly greeting or something silly to make me laugh. This one seemed abrupt and even… urgent? My pulse quickened, my fingers flying as I typed my response.
Macy: Heading to the bus station. Leaving New York for New Orleans today. What’s up?
This time the reply took longer.
Nox: Just wondering. Everything going all right? Ready to leave that crappy East Coast weather and come back West where all the happy people live?
There was the silliness. I joked back with him.
Macy: I’ve met quite a few happy people here. And they’d be happy to beat your soft West Coast behind to prove it.
Nox: Okay then, let me rephrase. Are you ready to come back and be with your friends—who miss you?
This one gave me a twinge in my mid-section. I missed them, too. But I wasn’t going back there. They were better off without me—I’d already ruined enough lives. And frankly, I was better alone. I kept myself so busy during the day, working and seeing the sights, I didn’t have time to think about Nic, about the coming disaster.
It was only at night, when I had no control over my thoughts and emotions, that it all backed up on me. If there was a medication I could take that would prevent me from sleeping—or at least from dreaming—I’d gladly take it.
Macy: I can’t. Lots of places still left to see. Thanks, though. I really do appreciate it.
Before closing the chat window I added, Maybe in a few months. I am moving back in your direction, slowly but surely. Talk to you in a few weeks. Tell everyone hello from me.
Nox: Take care. Don’t be a stranger.
Okay then. Two down, one to go.
I checked the clock window in the bottom right corner of the computer screen. It wa
s almost nine-thirty, which meant it was about two-thirty p.m. Olly’s time in England. I hoped she was home from school.
Opening the video messaging app we’d been using, I pressed the invitation button. Then I put a smile on my face. As always when we chatted, I would keep things light and friendly, but not too personal. After a few minutes, Olly’s video window popped up, and there she was, her face pink from the winter air, wearing her school uniform. She looked a little older than when we’d first met, but not much.
“Macy! Hi!” She beamed. “Where are you?”
“Hey there! I’ve been in New York City for the past few weeks. About to get back on the road. How are things? How are you? Still good?”
Though Olly had been released from the fan pod early and said she hadn’t undergone anything too unusual during her exam with Dr. Schmitt—just a blood draw and some “vaccinations”—I was still nervous. Those of us who’d stayed in Nic’s castle had been closer than any other humans to the source of the Plague virus Dr. Schmitt was creating. If Olly did start to show any telling symptoms, I’d promised to notify Nox immediately.
He’d heard nothing from overseas regarding a virus meant to wipe out all the humans, but he might not be on the short list for that kind of information. He’d made his pro-human position clear to the European leaders during his trips there. On my good days I hoped they’d been forced to drop the plan—maybe Nic had managed to kill Dr. Schmitt before dying himself? Nox said the creepy doctor hadn’t been seen in a while either. Or maybe the Ancient Court was just reluctant to lose its source of servants and fan pod devotees, now that Nic was gone and along with him, their plan for replacing them with hybrid Elven-human slaves. I had no way of knowing, but surely, this many months later, Olly would show some symptoms if she had been infected? Her answer reassured me further.