So, before they boarded the plane to Vermont to speak to the Corra oracle, Addie had met with Bran Llyr for her first tutoring session. The sun had just risen over the ocean when she joined him on the patio outside Madoc’s living-room windows. “What can you do?” Bran had demanded of her without any kind of welcome.
Addie glanced around, unsure of what he wanted. Her eyes passed over the embers of last night’s bonfire—cold, dry, scattered embers, because last night had really been a week ago. Seeing the remains of the fire, she made up her mind to give Bran the best she had, rather than build up to it. She snapped her fingers and, with a purple starburst of magic, produced a five-inch flame that danced on the tips of her forefinger and thumb. It wasn’t the invisible magic fire her father had taught all his children as a defensive spell, the one that burned her palms and drained her of energy. This was an actual flame, although it didn’t burn her. She smirked a bit.
Bran’s expression didn’t change. “So, you can light Madoc’s cigarettes without a match. Is that all?”
The smirk fell off Addie’s face. Is that all? Sure, the fire starter she’d copied this magic from had been able to do it naturally; that had been his talent. The point was that Addie could mimic his talent so effortlessly. “I can also write curses,” she said, shaking the flame out and trying not to sound huffy. Addie had picked up all kinds of things from the refugees passing through the Carroway house. It had been against the rules for the residents to share their talents with one another. But Addie had sharp eyes, and she wasn’t afraid of a spanking when caught.
“Can you defend yourself?” Bran asked, tapping his staff on the patio stones and throwing out his other hand.
Addie saw a wall of white flying toward her before she was slapped to the ground by a gust of wind. Her rear end hit the stones, followed by her elbows, and very nearly the back of her head. She propped herself up, gasping, until Bran dropped his hand and the wind ceased instantly. “Obviously not,” Bran observed.
Sucking in air, Addie thought of a barrier spell she might have used to block the wind. Too late now. At least she could show him she was a quick learner. She jumped up and thrust both hands out. Bran’s long white hair rustled slightly in a faint breeze. It wasn’t as impressive a display as she’d hoped for, but she shrugged. “It takes practice for me to get it right. But I can do wind now. Thanks.”
Bran looked down on her impassively. “How does a spell caster copy the magic of others without casting spells?”
“I am casting spells,” Addie corrected him. “I just learned to do it without all that silly ritual stuff—symbols and incantations. I don’t need them anymore.”
“You can’t change your talent through learning,” Bran said. When Addie shrugged again, he pressed her further. “You said you were taught this by someone. Who?”
“An old woman,” Addie said, watching his face to see if he figured it out. “Really old. You could even call her a crone.”
Bran Llyr was skilled at not giving away his thoughts, but Addie saw the skin tighten around his eyes as he considered her answer. Then the quiet of their surroundings was broken by several Aeron boys running along the beach, yowling with mischief and mayhem, and Madoc emerged from the house to ready his plane for their journey, followed by Griffyn and Ysabel.
Addie’s private lesson came to a premature end.
The airplane dipped. Addie felt the sensation of falling in her stomach and looked at Kel, but he seemed perfectly calm. However, Griffyn, seated with Ysabel a row ahead, threw a newspaper he’d been reading to the floor. “Tell your father to stop that!” he growled at Kel.
“He has to descend,” Kel replied. “We’re almost at our destination.”
That made Addie squirm in her seat more than the drop in altitude. The Carroways were going to be so angry at her for bringing these people to their house. She wished Griffyn and Ysabel had stayed behind. If it was just she and Bran, she’d have a better chance of convincing her foster parents that what she was doing was right for her people. No Transitioners knew better than Emma and Dale Carroway how much the Kin had suffered from their banishment to the eighth day. They’d devoted their whole lives to serving members of the unfairly imprisoned Kin race, even though it meant avoiding other Transitioners and keeping themselves in a self-imposed isolation.
Madoc landed the plane on a street in the middle of town, bringing it to a stop between a candy store and the library. Although Addie had skateboarded down this street dozens of times, she had never set foot inside either the store or the library. Normal establishments were closed to her.
Addie chewed on a fingernail. Emma will know we’re here. Her foster mother was a sensitive who detected emotions. Emma would immediately sense strangers in her town, but she’d also recognize Addie. Can she feel me wishing her to be calm . . . to trust me?
Kel opened the outer door and lowered the stairs that unfolded from the body of the plane. “Make Adelina go first,” Madoc called from the cockpit. “Her presence might prevent Transitioners from attacking us, and we’ll need her to find the house.”
Dale Carroway’s talent was obscuring his location from others. But he couldn’t hide himself or his house from Addie. She’d known him too long and lived in his house half her life.
As she walked down the aisle, Addie picked up Griffyn’s newspaper from the floor and tossed it into an empty seat. The front page headline caught her eye. “Death Toll from Freak Hurricane Tops 500 in 3 States. Beach Towns Devastated. Staten Island under Water.” Belatedly the words sank in, and she stopped in her tracks. Death toll? Freak hurricane? Did they mean the storm the Llyrs had created?
Bran pushed her forward, and Kel took her arm to help her onto the stairs to disembark from the plane. Addie steadied herself, feeling off balance. She hadn’t realized the storm would do that kind of damage. Somehow, Addie had imagined it singling out the Dulac building—hovering over it and striking it with lightning, like in the cartoons the orphans watched on the Carroways’ VHS cassette player.
“You’ll let me talk to them, right?” she asked, turning around. Bran frowned, not understanding her, and she tried again. Her mouth had gone dry. “At the Carroway house. You’ll let me talk to my foster parents and convince them not to interfere. You promised.”
“I will not bargain with Transitioners. We’ve come to get our oracle. If you convince the Transitioners to stand aside, so much the better.” Bran pushed Addie forward again.
She led the way down a street she knew like the back of her hand. Griffyn peered through store windows, and Ysabel disappeared down an alley, heading off on her own. The Mathonwys brought up the rear, Madoc smoking a cigarette—which reminded Addie of the flame she’d summoned with her silly finger snap.
Did I really think I’d impress Bran Llyr with that trick? A man who raised a hurricane the first time he was free to use his talent to its full extent?
I’ve made a mistake.
When they reached her home street, she spoke over her shoulder nervously. “I’m leading you to house number seventeen. You won’t be able to see it. But trust me; it’s there.”
“What’s she talking about?” grumbled Griffyn. “I see it just fine.”
Addie snapped her head around. “You do?”
“I see it,” Kel confirmed. “They must not be here.”
He was right. If Dale was at home, the white Victorian house would be invisible. Had they abandoned it? Moved somewhere else with all the homeless refugees in tow? Had something happened to them?
Then the front door opened, and Dale and Emma Carroway stepped onto the wraparound porch. Emma met Addie’s eyes immediately and mouthed her name—Addie!—looking stricken and worried and happy to see her all at once.
Dale marched down the porch steps. “Stop! None of you but Addie is welcome here.”
Bran and Griffyn didn’t break stride, and Addie ran ahead, trying to stay in front of the group. “We aren’t here to hurt anyone!” she shouted. “We just want
to talk to Aine Corra!”
Dale shook his head. “They said you might bring these people here, Addie—but I thought we raised you smarter than this.”
Who said she’d be coming? Who could possibly know she was with the Llyrs—except the Dulacs? Addie looked around, wondering if there was an army of Dulacs and their vassals hidden in the neighboring houses.
“Corra!” Bran shouted at the house. “Come out of there! We have business with you!”
“You have no business with anyone in my house.” Dale was still walking toward them. It reminded Addie of how Dr. Morder had walked up to Bran after Addie was rescued—as if he expected to converse with the Llyr lord equal to equal. He’d paid for that error with his life.
Dr. Morder was the main person to credit for Addie’s escape from the Dulacs. While she was a prisoner, Morder, a half-Kin, half-Transitioner spell caster and Dulac vassal, had told her that he wanted to join the Kin and was willing to betray his liege to do so. Under the circumstances, Addie had been reluctant to trust him, and Morder had tried to prove himself by using his magic to contact the only person who’d escaped the ambushed Hummer—Kel—and apprise him of Addie’s whereabouts.
For this service, Dr. Morder had expected gratitude. Instead Bran had struck him down without a word of warning or a moment’s hesitation. And Morder had been half-Kin. What would Bran do to an angry Transitioner who confronted him?
Addie held out a hand to warn her foster father not to come any closer. “Dale, please send Aine out to speak to us, if she’s here. If not, we need to know where she’s gone.”
“They’ve fooled you,” Dale replied. He looked over her head at Bran. “Are you proud? That you’ve twisted a little girl’s head around so she doesn’t know right from wrong?”
“Let me shut his mouth,” Griffyn hissed, reaching toward one of his throwing knives.
Addie waved an arm without thinking, and a gust of wind knocked Griffyn sideways. Griffyn stared at her in shock and muttered under his breath to raise a counterattack. Addie saw the white magic gathering around him.
Just then, a group of children appeared from behind the house, herded by Ysabel. Many were crying. The older ones carried the younger ones, and Aine followed, holding her infant son in one arm and her toddler daughter, Brigit, in the other. Addie now understood what Dale had been up to. He’d known Addie was with the Llyrs and hadn’t bothered trying to hide the house. Instead, he’d stalled them while Aine and the refugee children fled out the back door and escaped. At least until Ysabel caught them.
Griffyn strode forward and wrenched Brigit away from Aine. He dumped the toddler unceremoniously on her diapered backside among the other children. Aine managed to pass her baby to Dale before he could receive the same treatment. Then Griffyn dragged her over to face his father.
Aine looked dazed, as if she barely understood where she was or what was happening. It was a confusion Addie had seen her experience many times and one of the reasons Addie had concluded she was a Corra. The oracle talent of the Corras was uncannily accurate and completely involuntary.
Bran looked down at Aine. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder. “We have come for an oracle,” he said. “Where are the Treasures of the Kin?”
Aine shook her head. Her eyelids fluttered; her lips trembled. “I will not aid you.”
To Addie’s horror, Dale handed Aine’s baby to Emma and stepped forward to intervene. No! Addie shook her head at him urgently.
Griffyn turned Aine’s hand over and slapped a coin into it. “Now you must prophesy for us,” he said. “I’ve crossed your palm with silver.”
The touch of the silver coin compelled her talent even more than Bran’s request and the intensity of the situation itself, but Aine fought it. Her body shook, and her eyes rolled up until they showed mostly white. Nevertheless, her trembling lips curled in a smile. “I’ll gladly foretell the fate of Griffyn Llyr, who will die by the hand of an innocent.”
Griffyn’s face blanched at her words. Then he cursed vilely in Welsh, threw up a hand, palm out, and struck Aine with a bolt of electricity.
11
ADDIE SCREAMED. THE CHILDREN echoed her.
Dale ran toward Aine as she collapsed, but Bran swung his staff to block him, striking him in the head. Dale staggered and fell. The children sobbed and clung to Emma, who moaned and pressed their faces against her dress. One of the older kids, a boy named Gawan, picked up Brigit to keep the toddler from seeing what had happened.
Addie threw herself to the ground beside Dale’s crumpled body and cradled his head. Blood oozed from his scalp, but he was breathing. It only took a glance to see that Aine was not, although Bran knelt beside her to check anyway. Then he looked up at Griffyn and said something in Welsh. Addie’s command of Welsh was poor, but she thought Bran was calling his son a cretin.
A monstrous, murdering cretin! Addie thought, tears running down her cheeks. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d brought him here. She’d led these violent people to her home and put everyone who lived here at risk—all to impress Bran Llyr. It’s my fault he killed her!
“The woman prophesied my death!” Griffyn said to his father indignantly, as if his act had been justified.
“Did you think this would undo it?” Bran growled. Oracles spoke of what would be; the speaking itself did not make it be. Killing Aine wouldn’t stop the future she foretold. Impatiently, Bran beckoned for Ysabel.
Even Ysabel, who was normally Griffyn’s biggest fan, shot him an angry glance as she approached Aine’s body. A live oracle would’ve been useful to them in the future. However, with an Arawen present, death wouldn’t stop them from getting the prophecy they needed right now. Ysabel squatted and placed a hand on Aine’s forehead.
Addie shuddered at the foul, black cloud of Arawen magic at work, but forced herself to watch as Ysabel stiffened and voiced words pulled from the dead woman’s mind.
“Four treasures from the land of frost:
One corrupt and long ago lost,
Another repaired by girl’s command,
Two, spoils of war,
Claimed by the voice and the hand.”
Ysabel took a long breath and withdrew her hand. When she stood up, Griffyn growled at her, “Forget the Treasures! What the woman said to me—that was a lie, wasn’t it?” Ysabel didn’t answer.
“Are we taking the children?” snapped Madoc. “Even the small ones?” He was either unconcerned with Griffyn’s future demise or trying to divert attention from it.
“You can’t take the children,” Emma protested, her voice shaking. “I won’t allow it.”
Addie frantically signaled her to not argue with them, terrified that one of them would strike her down next, but Bran ignored Emma completely. “The infant isn’t old enough to be weaned. Leave it. The others are our future allies. If that little girl is a Corra like her mother, she will be a great advantage to us someday. Put the Transitioners in the house and find a place to lock them in.”
Lock them in. Addie sagged with relief. He wasn’t going to kill them. It didn’t erase her responsibility for Aine’s death, but at least her foster parents would be spared. Griffyn hefted Dale’s limp body over his shoulder. Ysabel pulled Emma away from the children and toward the house. Emma clutched Aine’s baby to her chest and looked back at Addie in despair. Addie wanted to sink into the ground with guilt and regret.
“Help me get the children back to the plane,” Kel whispered in Addie’s ear, pulling her gently but firmly away from Aine’s body. Addie thought he was trying to distract her from what had happened. It wouldn’t work, but perhaps she could prevent anyone else from being hurt.
Wiping tears from her face, Addie went with Kel to corral the children. She tried to take Brigit from Gawan, but he recoiled from her. “Traitor!” he hissed.
I’m not, Addie wanted to protest. I’m trying to do right by us. I want candy stores and libraries for you and every other Kin kid. I want us to have a future in the r
eal world. We didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not right for us to be imprisoned in this eighth day like criminals. But she didn’t say any of that. It suddenly sounded very naive.
“Do what you’re told before worse happens,” Kel told Gawan. Taking small children by the hands, Kel turned away from the house—and froze.
A large black bird swooped down and landed in the street in front of the children.
Then another. And a third.
A dark-haired girl walked up the street toward them. Wherever her bare feet touched, worms and insects bubbled up from the pavement. She wore a shapeless white dress. No, Addie realized—not a dress, an oversized white T-shirt with faded letters printed across the front. She wore shorts too, barely visible below the hem of her shirt. Her arms were bare, her left wrist unmarked. She wasn’t Kin, and she wasn’t a Transitioner. This was a Normal girl, not much older than Addie, whose body was hosting something that wasn’t normal at all.
The Morrigan.
Kel pushed all the children in his reach to their knees. “Close your eyes. Don’t look at her,” he whispered. Drawing the attention of the Morrigan was dangerous. She was known to choose sides, select victors . . . and casualties. Addie sank to her knees, but kept her eyes open.
Madoc kneeled and stared at the ground. Bran bent on one knee as well, holding his staff in front of him. “Great Morrigu,” Bran greeted her with an old Welsh version of her name. “We are honored to serve you.”
The girl’s face was blank, her eyes wide but unseeing. From behind ordinary brown pupils, something dark and dangerous peered out. “Do you serve me?”
“I do,” Bran swore. “When I saw you at Oeth-Anoeth, I knew the time had come to redeem pledges my ancestors made to you centuries ago. By your grace, we escaped that prison.”
“The prophetess has given you your oracle,” the Morrigan said.
The Morrigan's Curse Page 7