The Morrigan's Curse

by Dianne K. Salerni

  That was when Bran pointed out that it wasn’t her home and the Carroways weren’t her parents. “They were Transitioners who suppressed your magical strength just as Oeth-Anoeth suppressed ours,” Bran said. “They drained the spirit of every Kin they took into their house, calling them refugees, convincing them to hide and pretend not to exist. Those children would have been robbed of their potential and forced to live as shadows of their true selves.”

  Bran pivoted the Spear and slashed the head across the tape binding Addie’s right ankle to the chair. It sliced through without cutting her flesh, but a white burst of magic as painful as fire ripped up her leg. Addie ground her teeth together. As Bran had told the Morrigan, only the rightful owner could handle this Kin artifact. Anyone else who came in contact with it was punished.

  “We are in a battle for survival,” Bran said. “The survival of our race, Adelina. Those Transitioners you mourn may have told you it was a war between good and evil, but it was always about power. Theirs. Ours. They won the last round and drove us to the brink of extinction.” He eased the tip of the Spear through the tape on her other leg, taking his time.

  Addie cringed away from the Spear, but pain lanced through her leg. “If that was what they wanted,” she gasped, “why didn’t the Carroways just kill me and the other refugees?”

  “Because downtrodden slaves are useful,” Bran replied. “An oracle is useful. A strong spell caster is useful. Weren’t you eager to please the Transitioners who took you in after your true home was burned and your real parents slaughtered?” He directed the head of the Spear at her left wrist. Addie flinched but couldn’t escape.

  The pain wrenched a scream from her. There was no blood spilled, no mark on her skin, but the magic burned through her flesh. By the time her hand was free, she was drenched in sweat and trembling. She panted, eyeing the Spear and knowing he was going to use it one more time. “Why did Merlin cast the spell then?” She was going to get the punishment anyway; she might as well ask. “If it was always us against them, why did he side with them?”

  “The house of Emrys and the house of Llyr were rivals,” Bran said. “Merlin Emrys wanted to strengthen his own clan and allied himself with our enemies. His plan did not go as he wanted, and he was trapped, too. Don’t believe the legends that say he sacrificed himself.”

  That wasn’t the way Addie had heard the story from the Carroways, and although she’d been really young at the time, she remembered her parents explaining it a different way. Before she could decide whether or not to take any stock in his version, Bran cut her other arm loose.

  Addie could’ve sworn the Spear enjoyed it. The pain was familiar now, but intense, and she thought she blacked out for a moment. The next thing she knew for sure, she was curled up in the plane seat, whimpering and waiting for the agony to subside.

  “I hope that you, the very last of the Emrys bloodline, will choose your own race over the one that enslaved us,” Bran said. “We rescued those children from servitude today. They are the hope of our future.”

  Except for the baby, who was too much trouble to bring with them.

  Addie uncurled her body enough to peer up at Bran. He didn’t see his mistake. It didn’t occur to him that leaving that baby to die in the fire made everything he said a lie.

  He didn’t care about saving helpless members of his race from extinction. He’d passed the “rescued” children into the hands of a clan who had no respect for life.

  This was about a long-time grudge and revenge and power. His power.

  Bran walked away without looking back. As far as Addie could tell when she finally found the strength to stand, nobody was waiting for her or watched her leave the plane. Where could she go? This was an island, and the Aerons had taken the only boat.

  She made it back to her room without seeing anyone, locked the door, and spent the rest of the day there, ravaging a box of tissues and hugging the stuffed rabbit Emma Carroway had given her when she was eight years old and newly orphaned. Nobody came to check on her, not even Kel. That stung, because she’d thought Kel was her friend. He was the one who’d helped Morder coordinate her rescue from Dulac captivity. He’d even saved the bag she’d brought from the Carroway house. Addie had thought it must’ve been blown to smithereens with the Hummer, but Kel had found it by the side of the highway.

  Thanks to Kel she could hold Bunny while she cried, and she still had her favorite books. The one about the Normal girl who also had to hide or be killed. The one that got everything wrong about Merlin but was still fun to read. And the one about the princess who’d been magically hidden until it was safe for her to lead the people of Oz.

  Addie took that battered old book out of her bag and cried over it, too. She’d read The Land of Oz many times during her years at the Carroway house. She had liked to think that she was similar to Princess Ozma, a mystery, a secret, and a heroine for her people. Didn’t the very existence of the Kin depend on her? Some princess I am, getting people I love killed.

  But Bran had been right about the Kin being downtrodden and broken in spirit. In fact, they were only one thirteen-year-old girl away from extinction. What if Addie had been a few steps closer to the Hummer when the Dulacs blew it up? All her people would have died.

  Eventually, exhaustion claimed her. Troubled dreams kept her from sound sleep, and the lurch into next week woke her up, as it often did. By the time the sky was bright pink, she’d run out of tissues and tears. She put The Land of Oz into her bag and Bunny under her pillow.

  She knew what she had to do.

  It wasn’t fair that the fate of an entire race lay in Addie’s hands, and the sooner she could rid herself of that burden, the better off the Kin would be. Addie was no princess, and no fit leader. The Kin should not have to depend on her for their survival.

  She’d been given a gift by the Morrigan specifically for the purpose of negating the Eighth Day Spell, and unfortunately—no matter how much she hated him—she was going to need Bran’s help. The Stone and the Sword were necessary to boost the strength of her magic, and she couldn’t find them by herself. And although she could master any spell or talent she saw wielded by someone else, Addie had never seen anyone create reality out of ideas, as Merlin had done when casting the Eighth Day Spell. For this she was counting on Bran having some arcane knowledge he would share with her when he was ready.

  Addie had never felt so alone and friendless as she did now, knowing that she would have to pretend to cooperate with the Llyrs until her task was complete and then figure out how to get rid of them.

  Bran wasn’t the only one who could hold a grudge.

  18

  THE FLAW IN HER plan was that Addie was a terrible liar. Everything showed on her face. To pretend she was over her grief and fury was out of the question. The best she could do was pretend she was complying with Bran out of fear. Because there was truth in that. She was afraid of him now.

  With the guilt of yesterday on her shoulders, Addie went downstairs feeling like a whipped dog.

  Ysabel was sharpening knives in the living room, while Kel perched on the arm of a sofa, reading a magazine. “The Normals are spooked,” Kel was saying. “They can’t explain the hurricane. I haven’t seen anything in the newspapers about the house fires in Vermont yet. But they’ll start to notice if unexplainable events keep happening between every Wednesday and Thursday at midnight.”

  “This is good?” asked Ysabel. “That they notice?”

  “They’ll be frightened. They’ll feel helpless. They’ll panic. When Normal lives are disrupted, society breaks down. We’re counting on that to help us take control of them after we’re free of this wretched day.” Kel saw Addie on the stairs. He threw down the magazine and jumped to his feet. “Addie, how are you?”

  “Fine,” she said shortly. Thanks for asking yesterday.

  “Done crying?” Ysabel asked scornfully. Addie didn’t know if the Arawen girl disapproved of tears in general, or just crying over Transitioners.<
br />
  Addie ignored her and looked at Kel. “What’s everyone doing?” To her own ears she sounded falsely casual.

  “Working on acquiring the missing Treasures. The oracle said . . .” Kel paused, probably remembering that the oracle hadn’t said this, that Ysabel had ripped it from her mind after death. He cleared his throat. “The Stone and the Sword were spoils of war taken by the hand and the voice. You realize, Addie, those must be the people who attacked your home. The people who killed your parents.” His eyes bored into hers as if to remind her who the real enemy was.

  Addie nodded. Spoils of war were items taken in battle, usually upon the death of their former owners.

  “The hand must refer to the Bedivere hand of power,” Kel said, “and we know where the head of the Bedivere clan is located. But the voice is kind of a puzzle. It should be the voice of command, but the Pendragon family was wiped out in a Transitioner feud years ago. They’re all dead.”

  “Then who has the spoils of war taken from the Pendragons?” asked Ysabel. “Who are the people who defeated them?”

  “That’s a good question.” Kel looked up as Griffyn entered the room. “Maybe if Griffyn hadn’t killed the oracle, we’d know more.”

  Griffyn barely gave Kel a glance. Instead of responding to the criticism, he held up his hand for Addie to see. “It’s swollen and red where you bit me,” he growled. “Human bites are the worst.”

  He sounded as if he had experience with this, which didn’t surprise Addie. Griffyn was so vile, probably every species he encountered wanted to bite him.

  “Stop worrying about it.” Kel tossed him a tube of ointment. “I found this for you.”

  Griffyn caught the tube and peered at it suspiciously. “What kind of magic is it?”

  “It’s not magic; it’s an antibiotic.” When Griffyn stared back at him blankly, Kel rolled his eyes. “It kills bacteria. Do you even know what that is?”

  Griffyn sneered at Kel, but it was Addie he strode across the room to tower over menacingly. “You know what never made sense to me? If the Eighth Day Spell is carried by Emrys blood, why won’t killing off the Emryses release us?” Griffyn grabbed Addie’s shirt and yanked on it, forcing her to stand on her toes.

  “The existence of the eighth-day timeline depends on the Emrys family,” Kel exclaimed. “Even you should understand that! If they die, we cease to exist. Let her go!”

  “That’s what they want us to believe. That’s how they kept us from killing them back when Merlin first betrayed us. But maybe it’s a lie.” With Addie’s shirt clenched in one fist, Griffyn drew a knife with his other hand and pressed the flat of the blade against her throat. “She cries over Transitioners and bites her own kind. Why should we keep her?”

  Addie stared up into Griffyn’s face, her heart pounding. She fought the instinct to struggle, because that was all it would take to provoke him. And that would be the end of not just her, but of Kin everywhere. Unless he’s right. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants? To be useless after all?

  “Yes, Griffyn.” Bran’s voice startled everyone. Griffyn loosened his grip enough for Addie to turn her head and see his father standing in the doorway with Madoc behind him. “You’ve uncovered a ruse overlooked by hundreds of Kin scholars who’ve pondered our dilemma for centuries,” Bran said dryly. “Undoubtedly you are the most brilliant Kin man since the casting of the Eighth Day Spell. Go ahead. Cut her throat, and we’ll see what happens.”

  Kel made a strangled outcry, and even Ysabel flinched.

  Addie looked at Griffyn, whose eyes darted between his father and his proposed victim. Then, with an angry snarl, Griffyn released Addie and stalked out of the living room and up the stairs, where they heard him slam a bedroom door. This was followed by the sounds of furniture being kicked and thrown against walls.

  Addie straightened her shirt before raising her eyes to Bran. She wasn’t sure what she expected from him. Another lecture on loyalty? More punishment?

  “You did not appear for your lesson this morning, Adelina,” Bran said.

  “I didn’t know I had one.” She kept her voice expressionless.

  “You need to practice daily. You’re quick to learn, but weak in execution—and your reaction time is slow. You don’t think quickly under stress.”

  She nodded. He was right.

  Bran looked at Madoc. “Are you certain there is nothing more we can do to acquire the Treasures today? I am anxious to move forward.”

  “The Aerons will scout out the home of the Bediveres and determine the best way to approach it,” Madoc said. “But if they’re the ones who hold the Stone of Fal, they will be impervious to a direct assault. As for the Pendragons, their personal possessions were sold at auction, according to the message I received from my Normal employees after my inquiry last week. We’ll have to rely on them to search the electronic records of the auction house. It’s likely that another Transitioner clan moved in to claim anything of magical value.” Bran glowered at the idea of relying on Normals for anything, but Madoc went on, “We should know more by their next report.”

  “Then Adelina and I will practice this afternoon on her spell casting. She will assist me in raising a storm.” Bran’s tone gave no indication that he held any resentment for her rebellion yesterday. Maybe he felt her punishment had been sufficient.

  “Send it north to Canada this time,” Madoc said, “or you’ll hamper our efforts to locate the Treasures. My employees will need electricity and computers to get the job done.”

  “I’ll fetch my shoes.” Addie headed for the stairs, not wanting her face to give away how she felt about helping Bran raise another hurricane. What she wanted from him was a useful spell, not lessons on destruction.

  She was almost to her room when she heard her name hissed behind her. “Addie!” Kel took the stairs two at a time to catch up with her. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said. “I know those were people you cared about, but this is war.”

  Addie nodded silently because she needed Kel to believe she agreed with him and she didn’t trust herself to speak a convincing lie. Not with those deaths on her conscience.

  Kel licked his lips nervously. “What the Morrigan said—about progeny and destiny and giving us a gift to defeat the Transitioners. Was she talking about you, Addie?”

  A gift from the Morrigan wasn’t an honor people aspired to. With more bravado than she felt, Addie shrugged. “I was visited by the Old Crone a year ago, and now I’ve seen the Girl. The only one I haven’t met is the Washer Woman, which is good, because I don’t think you’re supposed to survive that one.”

  It was very satisfying to leave Kel frozen at the top of the stairs, his mouth dangling open like a fish. What a shame it had to be for something so deadly serious. Because having the Morrigan speak to you in two of her forms really couldn’t be a good sign.

  Addie opened her bedroom door just in time to catch a boy with tousled dark hair ransacking her possessions. She gasped. The boy dropped her bag and threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “This wasn’t how I planned on meeting you,” he said quickly. “But I can explain . . .”

  When Addie saw the mark on the Transitioner boy’s wrist, she knew better than to wait for explanations—or worse, questions. She clenched her fists and muttered under her breath, automatically preparing to defend herself against an enemy.

  19

  JAX COULD TELL SHE wasn’t going to wait for him to explain. She muttered foreign words, and he recognized the gesture that went with them—a motion of her arms that ended with her hands curled around something invisible. “Addie, before you hit me with a fireball, listen.” He knew it was her. All Kin had that silvery-blond hair and those intensely blue eyes, but something about this girl’s face reminded him of Evangeline.

  Plus he felt his bond to her immediately.

  Her eyebrows shot up and then scrunched together. “How do you know—”

  “I’ve seen Evangeline do that spell plenty of times,” Jax sa
id. “In fact—”

  “Shut up, Dulac,” Addie hissed. “How’d you get in here?”

  How was he supposed to shut up and answer her question? Jax settled for lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m not a Dulac!”

  “I saw you in their building!” she whispered back. “I recognize your mark!”

  For a second, Jax thought she was confusing him with Dorian. They looked a lot alike, except that Dorian was shorter and a little bit geeky. Then Jax remembered the night he got a glimpse into the room where the Dulacs were keeping Addie. He’d even shouted her name, trying to let her know she had an ally in the building. “I didn’t realize you’d seen me,” he said. “I was trying to rescue you, but I got caught.” He held up his left hand, giving her a good view of his mark. “Look at my tattoo. The Ambroses—the Dulac vassals—they have a falcon. Mine is different. I have an eagle.”

  The girl glared at him. “Falcon, eagle, same thing. Who cares?”

  “It makes a difference,” Jax insisted. “I’m an Aubrey. Jax Aubrey. Look, I hope you aren’t with the Llyrs by choice but only because they got you away from the Dulacs. You haven’t called for help, so I’m thinking maybe I’m right.” The girl looked behind her at the partially open door. “I got here using brownie holes,” Jax said. “I can get you out the same way.”

  “Brownie holes,” she repeated.

  “Watch.” He crossed the room to the wall with the brownie hole and stuck his arm in. “See? I can get you off the island this way.” Addie didn’t move from her spot near the door, but she clenched and unclenched her hands. “Those fireballs must sting,” Jax said. “They drain the heck out of Evangeline’s energy, and we’re in danger the longer we stay here. So, why don’t you release that spell and climb into the brownie hole. The Llyrs won’t be able to reach us once we’re inside. I’ll prove how I know your sister, and then I’ll take you to her.” He hoped he sounded convincing, because the fact was, without Stink, he wasn’t sure he could take her all the way back to Pennsylvania.