by Carina Cook
Dagmar caught Citrine off balance after a particularly devastating strike. The older woman grabbed the smaller one by her collar, pulling her into the crook of her arm, and proceeded to choke her out. But then the strangest thing happened. A single lock of Citrine’s fluffy brown hair hair seemed to snake up and wrap itself around Dagmar’s throat, squeezing tight. Dagmar released her grip immediately, pulling at the hair that began to choke her. It fell away at her touch, and Citrine stepped back.
Dagmar shook her head admiringly. “You have restraint. Most people would have brought out their magic tricks at the beginning, hoping to score a win.”
“That’s one of the only tricks I have,” said Citrine. “Besides, anyone who leans on a crutch like that is asking to be put in the ground.”
Dagmar nodded, offering her hand. “This was a pleasure, Citrine. I hope we can train together again sometime. I’d love to work through some of those throws. I’ve never seen their like before.”
“I’d be happy to,” said Citrine. “So do you believe my story now?”
“If this was you holding back, I wouldn’t want to face you when you’re going full out.” Dagmar wiped her forehead with the back of a hand. “I believe you. If you’d like some water, help yourself from the cooler over there. I’ll go see if my daughter is ready.”
CHAPTER 15
Citrine was used to being short. Most of the fae fell into the tall and willowy category—or at least the ones in Ilimitaine’s court had. She remembered being dragged around on a leash and looking up at their laughing faces way up above her, all the while daydreaming about kicking them in the shins. Hard. After Ilimitaine had started his arena fights, a lot of the gladiators had been like her—stunted or malformed or otherwise outcast. Some had been captured from other realms, probably using the wand she carried now, still tucked in her pant leg. Stealing it had caused a lot of trouble for certain, but maybe it would end up doing some good too.
After everything that had happened, little could be done to make her feel small, but Anneliese Lorensson did. She wasn’t any taller than Ben, but she somehow seemed bigger than she actually was. Even Anneliese’s mother didn’t have that quality, although Citrine would have bet it was on purpose. Dagmar held herself in check, sticking to the background whenever she could. When she struck, no one would see her coming. They would be too busy looking at her daughter.
If Citrine hadn’t already respected the crap out of her, that realization would have sealed the deal.
Based on what Derek had said, Anneliese was the vampire queen. Citrine had never had the best view of royalty, but maybe this one was different. The first thing she did when she entered the room was hug her mother. That gave Citrine plenty of time to mark the differences. Ilimitaine always dressed to intimidate people with obvious displays of wealth and power. Anneliese wore a matching track suit in a plum color that set off her pale good looks. Ilimitaine always maintained a haughty air. Anneliese smiled in welcome as she held out a hand.
“Nice to meet you, Derek,” she said, shaking his hand. Then she turned to Citrine, her smile widening. “And you must be Citrine. I’m a bit sad that I missed your training session with my mother. She says you’re amazing.”
Citrine blushed. “Dagmar is too kind. It’s nice to meet you, Anneliese.”
“Are you kidding? She doesn’t even say that kind of thing about me, and I’m her favorite daughter.” Anneliese looked at her mother with warm fondness, at odds with the teasing tone of her voice. “And please, call me Liss.”
“Thanks for seeing us on such short notice,” interjected Derek. “We wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”
Liss nodded, her face going serious. “I believe you. Gregor’s always spoken highly of you. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet before, but I have to sleep sometime or my mother gets cranky.”
“That would be you,” Dagmar murmured. “You get cranky.”
“That too,” Liss said agreeably. “Unfortunately, my office is getting painted today, so we have nowhere to go. We could step into my mother’s office, or we could just do away with ceremony altogether and sit here on the mats. Frankly, I think they’re more comfortable than my mother’s office chairs.”
The comfortable banter surprised a laugh out of Citrine, drawing everyone’s attention to her. She covered her mouth with her hand, her face going red again. She didn’t understand why she was blushing so much. The more that she thought about it, the more guilty she felt. She’d gotten sucked in by the pleasure of being with people who weren’t trying to kill her or break her spirit, and she’d completely forgotten the fact that Jenny and Hex were currently in that same situation. She couldn’t afford to lose sight of that again.
“Can we sit here?” she asked, her laughter fading. “I’d rather get right to it.”
Liss nodded, and all four of them settled themselves on the mats. They were more comfortable than Citrine expected after falling on them a few times. Very cushy.
“Let me explain briefly why we’re here,” Derek began. Then he launched himself into another explanation of recent events. Liss didn’t interrupt as much as her mother had. She just listened intently as Derek gave a succinct, organized summary of the important details. Now that she’d heard it a few times, Citrine could begin to see how he organized his thoughts to make the more important parts stand out. It would be an important skill in his line of work, and she resolved to learn it herself once the situation with Ben and the wand was over and done with. She was being optimistic about the outcome.
When he was done, Liss said, “So where do I come in?”
Citrine brought out the wand, setting it on the mat in front of her. For an object that had caused so much chaos and contained so much power, it didn’t look like much. The color of the wood was pretty enough, and the grain swirled gracefully along its length. But it was just wood. She would have rather stared at Derek’s eyes, or the intricate designs on his arms and shoulders, or…
She shook her head, bringing her attention back to the here and now. Liss was looking at the wand with interest but made no move toward it. Neither did Dagmar. Citrine appreciated that. She felt herself relaxing as she realized that they weren’t going to try and wrest it from her outright. Derek said they were trustworthy, and of course she believed him, but she realized that she’d been nervous anyway. Old untrusting habits die hard.
“I think that Benveniste has done something to the wand. Something magic. With the portals between our lands closed, he shouldn’t know where I am. I was supposed to come here and hide. No one would be able to find me. Later, I could stop by and make sure he was okay if I wanted, but otherwise I should be on my own. It was a stupid plan, and one that I would have seen through if he hadn’t muddled my head. But anyway, he can track me, and he’s sending illusions here too. Mind controlling the police. None of this should be possible, and so I wanted to consult a mage to see if we can’t figure out what he did and how to break it.”
Liss frowned thoughtfully at the wand. The silence stretched out until Citrine couldn’t bear it any more. She opened her mouth again.
“I was going to snap the wand before he took the shifterkin. But faerie magic is unpredictable, and that might be what Ben wants. Maybe breaking the wand will…do something. Release his magic, or let him come through to the human world or…I just don’t know. And I hate not knowing. I can’t go into battle blindly. I need help.”
Liss met her eyes with a refreshing forthrightness. “I’m going to be honest. I’m not sure I can do that. I’m willing to try, but there are risks here. I don’t know what will happen when my blood magic combines with his faerie magic. Maybe nothing. But it’s a possibility. And tampering with his magic might alert him to the fact that you’re doing something. Is that something you’re willing to risk?”
Citrine didn’t even bother to look at Derek for confirmation.
“He’s going to expect us to do something. He took the shifterkin to force me into action.
But he’s more like Ilimitaine than I thought and the king thinks himself superior to all humans. He might not anticipate this,” she said.
“Very well.” Liss nodded. “I need to prepare. Mother, would you mind getting the de Lanessi volume from my study? I’d like to look up a few glyphs before I start.”
Dagmar nodded, and on silent feet she padded out of the room. As the door closed behind her, Citrine and Derek exchanged looks. He tried to smile at her reassuringly, but he ended up looking like the one who needed reassurance. Of course he did. She might be worried about the shifterkin; she might like them, but he’d known them for years and years. They were his family, in a very real way. This situation had to be hitting him so much harder than it did her.
As they sat there quietly, Liss brought a curious collection of things out of the pockets of her tracksuit. First, she produced a wad of heavy duty plastic wrap, which she took a moment to smooth out and lay down on the mat. Atop it went a pristine square of starched white cloth, not much bigger than the palm of her hand. Next to the cloth, she set a wickedly pointed stylus made out of black stone threaded with lines of icy blue.
“My husband got me this,” she said, indicating the stylus. “It’s the first time I’ll get to use it. Is it strange that I’m excited about that?”
“No stranger than me turning into a wolfman when I get pissed,” said
Derek.
“I don’t know,” said Citrine. “I still think that’s pretty strange.”
He shot her a dirty look, but the jibe had its intended effect. It dissipated the tension in the room with a wave of laughter. Smiling, Liss gestured toward Citrine, grabbing her attention.
“Okay, so here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to draw with my blood on this piece of fabric. When I tell you, I want you to place the wand exactly as I say atop the symbol that I draw and leave it there. I cannot touch the wand, but I need you to place it accurately. If it’s not perfectly in line, that could weaken what I’m able to sense.”
Citrine nodded.
“Fascinating,” said Derek. “I always imagined that blood magic would be full of…well, exploding heads.”
He looked apologetic as he said it, and Liss chuckled.
“You’re not too far from the truth,” she said. “But I prefer not to explode any heads, personally. My husband and I have been searching far and wide for books containing blood magic glyphs. The book I’ll be using was written by the Countess de Lanessi in Ancient Italy over five hundred years ago. She’s one of a few blood mages who developed their craft beyond cranial explosions. I’m learning a lot from her.”
Dagmar opened the door with a crumbling book bound in oxblood leather. She cradled it reverently, sitting down next to her daughter before offering it to her. Citrine could see why. It looked like the book might turn to dust at any moment, and she observed so out loud.
“We photographed it as soon as we got it,” said Dagmar, nodding.
“But there’s an advantage to using the book.” Liss carefully turned the pages without looking up. “Angelina de Lanessi wrote the glyphs in her own blood. There’s a residual magic there that makes the glyphs easier to pick up. I…well, I guess you could only understand that if you practiced blood magic. You’ll just have to trust me on that one.” She shrugged helplessly.
They all waited quietly while Liss consulted the book. Citrine couldn’t restrain her curiosity and looked frankly at the pages as Liss flipped through them. Each symbol was drawn large on the page, about as big as her palm, in rusty, flaking lines. Black chicken scratch writing flanked the glyphs. On some pages, bright neon Post-It notes stuck out, written in a careful, neat script. Liss’s notes, probably. She stopped at one of the pages, moved a bright blue note out of the way, and studied the glyph.
“This is it,” she said. “Citrine, when I draw the glyph, I want you to place the wand along this segmenting line here. You see?”
Citrine nodded. “I can do that. Will…will anything happen?”
It might have seemed silly for her to be nervous, since she’d grown up surrounded by faerie magic. Then again, that magic hadn’t been too kind to her. But Liss didn’t seem to find it out of the ordinary. Blood magic probably scared a lot of people, now that Citrine thought about it. She’d never been afraid of blood, but she’d seen more of it than most people ever would.
“If it does, I’ll attempt to ward it off. It probably makes sense for you to all move behind me,” said Liss.
Derek and Dagmar went to the corner she indicated without being asked twice. Citrine crouched next to Liss with the wand in her hand, trying to ready herself for everything. She felt the same excited thrum in her belly that had once gripped her before going into the arena, long ago before repetition had deadened the fear. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but it didn’t help as much as she would have hoped.
Liss picked up the stylus, every motion crisp and precise. She pricked her finger decisively and deeply. Blood welled, and she dipped her finger to the cloth, holding it flat with her other hand. The starched fabric barely moved as she lightly drew the glyph. Then she sat back, gesturing to Citrine.
Citrine darted forward, setting the wand carefully in place while trying not to come into contact with the bloody fabric. She would hate herself if she messed this up. Once it was in place, she looked up at Liss for confirmation. The blood mage gave her the barest of nods, focused on the wand before her.
As Citrine backed toward the corner where Derek and Dagmar waited, she heard a strange hissing sound. The source quickly became clear—the wand began throwing off what looked like steam. It smelled disconcertingly of almonds, and she exchanged a worried look at Derek. The two of them instinctively tensed, and Dagmar, who was watching them closely, followed suit. She might not know what set them off, but she could recognize the need to be on the alert.
“No, you don’t,” muttered Liss, drawing in the air above the wand with her still bleeding finger. A drop fell onto the wand and crackled and popped like grease in a hot pan. “I’ve got you now.”
She squeezed her finger over the wand, blood pattering down. The smell of ozone and copper quickly drowned out the almond scent in the air while the warriors waited on alert for something they could fight. But it never came. The steam slowly faded; the hissing stopped, and the wand was just a piece of wood covered in spatters of blood.
Liss let out the tired sigh of someone who has just fought all day in the arena without a break and was about to collapse on their feet. Citrine recognized that bone tiredness all too well. She took a cautious step forward, but unsurprisingly Dagmar was there first. She knelt down at her daughter’s side and took a look at her face.
“Derek, would you get one of the sports drinks out of the fridge?” she asked. “Liss needs fuel before she passes out.”
“On it.”
Quicker than a flash, Derek handed her the bottle, and Liss drank the whole thing down under her mother’s stern gaze. For a moment, Citrine wondered why Liss didn’t tell Dagmar to stop fussing. After all, Liss was a full grown adult, an accomplished mage, and a queen no less. She didn’t need to listen if she didn’t want to. But maybe that was the answer. Dagmar fussed because she clearly cared, and Liss loved her back. Maybe it just didn’t make sense to Citrine because she’d never experienced it herself.
Disconcerted, she looked away. But then Liss spoke, drawing her attention right back.
“I saw him,” she said. “Thin. Hair and eyes like blood. Pretty, if you like effeminate men. That’s the one, right?”
Citrine nodded. She was tempted to take issue with the “effeminate” part, but this didn’t seem like the time or the place for it.
“I hurt him. But I couldn’t drive him out. He’s tied his magic to the wand. If you break it, there’s a chance that he could claim it all for his own.”
Citrine slumped. “So that’s it. There’s nothing we can do?”
“I didn’t say that. You’d have to kill him,�
� said Liss. She straightened slightly, setting the empty bottle down. Although she looked a bit better, her cheeks still lacked color. She seemed like she might topple over at any moment. “I don’t say that lightly. A person’s magic says a lot about who they are at the core, and touching his made me want to vomit. He’s a monster, through and through. I wouldn’t want to leave a kitten in his care, much less a powerful magical object.”
Citrine crouched at her shoulder, taking the blood smeared wand with reverent care. “Thank you for doing this, Liss. I’ll do as you say.”
Liss nodded wanly. “I’m going back to bed now. Mom, will you tell Gregor that I need to sleep a little extra tonight? We were supposed to go to a show, but I’m wondering if maybe we could switch the tickets out to tomorrow night.”
“I’ll take care of it, sweetheart,” said Dagmar gently. “Can you see yourselves out?” she asked Derek and Citrine. “I don’t want to leave her.”
“Of course. Thank you,” said Derek.
They left the room, back out through the umpteen security checkpoints, and out to the SUV without saying a word. Once they were inside the vehicle, Derek leaned his head back.
“Damn,” he said. “So we’re going to faerie?”
Citrine nodded, unable to speak. He took her hand and kissed the back of it.
“I’ve got your back,” he said. “We’ll get Hex and Jenny, and we’ll make the bastard pay. For what he did to them, and for what he did to you.”
She leaned against him, taking comfort from his strength and his certainty. She could only hope that he was right, but she had to admit that she was terrified.