Mist, Murder & Magic

by Dionnara Dawson

  Hella held onto him tightly.

  Julie Ventus looked down on Harrow. ‘The court hears four votes for “not guilty”, and three votes for ‘guilty.’

  ‘What do you vote?’ Hella said, her heart in her ears. ‘You wanted me as an ally. Do this,’ she promised, ‘and we will be enemies. You and yours will burn in the coming war with the demons. Your House will crumble down around you, and you won’t receive any aid.’ She turned to the warlock council, a quick glance at Piper. ‘I can restore your House so that you can return there. Or would you like to spend the next several years trying to rebuild it, overcrowded at Faerie House, under demonic threat? Vote Harrow guilty, and I will do everything in my considerable power to make sure you regret it.’

  Julie’s mouth twitched. She looked sad. ‘That’s why we have to do this, Hella. To prove that we have the power: that all are accountable to the laws we have set in place. You may not fall under our jurisdiction, but Harrow does, and whatever misfortune fell upon him in the battle of the angels does not account for his sins thereafter. Harrow Nympha, I find you guilty.’ Julie looked to her father. ‘Start the ceremony.’

  Chapter Sixty

  Nerretti

  ‘Start the ceremony,’ Julie Ventus ordered.

  It all happened so fast.

  ‘But it was a tie!’ Hella screeched.

  ‘Which Harrow himself broke,’ Julie said calmly. ‘By pleading guilty.’

  Nerretti watched as Hella’s purple magic shot through her as if she were struck by lightning: she was furious. Piper wrapped her arms around her daughter, her own magic flaring, holding Hella back and attempting to calm her down—which did not work.

  Until the portal opened and took Piper, Hella and Tommy—who had run to stand between the council (and the rest of the gathered Cambions who were about to take their leave—the Imperium Ceremony was a punishment, not a spectacle. Tommy had said he had been forced to endure the process of observing one before, but that it had been because his aunt was a council member.) The three of them vanished into the swirling pool of light.

  That’s what Piper had been organising, Net realised. There was no way she had sway over Cambions or their council members. It must have been her coven who pulled her and Hella away. Piper knew what would happen to Harrow, and how Hella would react. Hella would burn everything down around them to stop the council from hurting Harrow.

  But it had to be this way. Just moments before the sentence was passed, Tommy had approached Net.

  ‘It’s not looking good, is it?’ Net had murmured to him.

  ‘No, it’s not. I had an idea, though. He’ll probably be found guilty, and have his magic stripped. But nowhere in the rules does it say we can’t get his magic back,’ Tommy said quietly.

  ‘How?’ Net had pressed, but they were ordered back to their seats too quickly.

  Now, Net prayed to the stars that the warlock boy had a good plan for afterward.

  In the meantime, the members of the council descended upon Harrow like crows on a meaty carcass. Melvin unfolded a leather sheath of blades—the only time Net had heard of warlocks using weapons—and took a dagger blessed under the name of his House. As the room cleared out, those that they knew, Tessa, Lola, even Hunter, looked wracked with sympathy and guilt at leaving Harrow to his fate. As the room emptied and the door closed, Julie Ventus looked pointedly at Nerretti.

  ‘You need to leave now,’ she said.

  Net crawled down to Harrow who was now pinned to the floor by an ever-zealous Melvin. ‘He’s not meant to be here,’ Net pointed out.

  Julie pursed her lips as Melvin raised the blade. ‘He’s right, father. You’re recused from this ceremony, having shown anger and prejudice to the guilty already. You can’t be trusted to mete out the ceremony justly.’

  Melvin looked furious, his cheeks puffed out. ‘You’ve got to be kidding—’

  ‘Leave,’ Julie said with a wave of her hand. There were still two guards posted at the door. ‘Before I have you removed.’

  Melvin shoved their Family blade into her hands. ‘Then you’ll have to be the one to draw blood for our Family’s justice.’ He marched past the guards and out the door.

  ‘Let me stay with him,’ Net pleaded. He looked down at Harrow, who was doing his best to be brave. ‘I’m just a human now. I won’t interfere with your ceremony. I just want to stay with him. He’s still a child, after all.’

  Julie peered around at the other gathered council members.

  Tahlia got to her feet, fuming, her arms crossed over her chest. ‘Let him stay, we owe Harrow that at least.’

  ‘Fine,’ Julie said. ‘But if you attempt to intervene, you’ll be forced out.’

  Net slipped closer to Harrow, now behind the boy’s head. Net touched his hair softly, letting him know he was close. ‘I understand.’

  The council members each represented the justice of their Families, both Faerie and Warlock. That much, Net knew. Julie stood over Harrow, who was on his back, on the carpeted floor of the room. Net could see his stomach rise and fall uneasily, his breathing uneven.

  ‘Harrow, I want you to understand that this is justice in the eyes of our law. You have taken two lives. You have been found guilty of two further attempts, and are responsible for the destruction of our home that has weathered the storms of Mill Valley for a long time. Our laws require that, for the blood and pain you have caused, so shall you repay that to the earth. We promise you mercy: you will not die here today, but your magic will be taken.’ Julie spoke with professional detachment, as if she had overseen the ceremony before. ‘The stars guide your soul, Harrow Nympha.’

  Julie bent down, holding the blade of the Ventus House, the metal shrouded with white mist. Harrow tensed as she plunged it through his left hand, pinning him to the ground. He cried out, then clamped his jaw shut. Dark-blue blood stained the carpet, pooling in his palm, and a blue light, like a vein, was visible at the edge of the wound. Julie hesitated, then shimmered. She took hold of the vein-like light and pulled. Harrow screamed, the sound piercing Net’s ears, as Julie ripped out part of his magic.

  Net brushed Harrow’s hair softly. I’m here, Harrow.

  Ventus had claimed their justice. Next was Mettalum, and John gathered up his blade too eagerly for Net’s liking. Indeed, the glint in his obsidian eyes was startling enough for Harrow to try to back away from him. But he was pinned to the ground like a butterfly in a glass case.

  ‘Remember, John, this is for justice, not revenge.’ Julie glanced at the guards, looking prepared to have the warlock hauled away if he pushed his position.

  ‘He killed my son,’ John growled. ‘He shouldn’t be allowed to live.’

  Tahlia manoeuvred herself between John and Harrow, pointing at him accusingly. ‘This isn’t about you or your son,’ she told him sternly. ‘It’s about justice, that’s all. If I think you’re going to take more than he owes, you and I are going to have problems.’ Net felt the ground tremble, as if to underline Tahlia’s threat. Julie looked poised to act too. The guards’ backs were straight, at attention.

  ‘Fine,’ John said, though he looked far from happy about it. He lowered himself slowly to the ground, painfully, as though his bones were melded together and moving to Harrow was like breaking them. ‘No one has deserved this more than you,’ he said, his voice shaking.

  Harrow tensed and Net put a firm hand on his head. Net hoped the boy would close his eyes, but he was too stubborn for that. Harrow watched with wide eyes as John Mettalum, for the justice of his son and his Family, plunged his blade through Harrow’s thigh. To his credit, the little warlock did not cry out, but his jaw must be strained from being clamped so tightly shut. This time, John yanked on another vein of Harrow’s magic.

  ‘I said I was sorry.’ Harrow gasped. ‘For your son. And I meant it.’

  John reached over and twisted his Family blade in Harrow’s leg—and this time Harrow screamed—‘that’s what you can d
o with your sorry,’ John said, as the guards hauled him off his feet and out of the room.

  Net moved closer to Harrow and, with a glance up at Julie for permission, brought Harrow up onto his lap. A small gesture to weigh out John’s moment of revenge. Harrow was shaking violently, but more than that, Net could see his magic wade out of his body, the blue-light veins sticking out like broken-off bones. Harrow’s fingertips were icy and flashing with shuddering sparks of blue light, fading from his body.

  Julie took a deep breath. ‘Terra, you’re next.’

  Tahlia steadfastly crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I refuse.’

  Net saw Harrow’s mouth quirk in a smile. He had paled considerably at the loss of blood that was pooling around him.

  Julie sighed. ‘If you don’t, I’ll simply have to use your blade for you. It won’t spare him, Tahlia.’

  Tahlia’s green eyes suddenly reminded Net of Malachai’s: full of smouldering contempt.

  ‘This is wrong, and you know it, Julie. I’ve talked with you about this before. You admitted it was a bad law. Why are you enforcing it now?’ Tahlia had come to sit by Harrow. A comforting presence, not a threat. His shaking slowed.

  Julie glanced at the Faerie Council members. The one with silver hair, the woman, looked beaten down and tired. She lifted her head and answered for Julie. ‘Because the community won’t see him unpunished, child, you know that. You knew this warlock when he was a boy, he is a friend to your nephew. You’re letting that cloud your judgement of the greater good.’

  ‘Daylia, I know you miss your daughter—and we will find her—but Harrow was a friend to her, too. You must know that,’ Tahlia pressed. She put a gentle hand on Harrow’s arm.

  ‘I do miss my girl, Tahlia, but we faeries have telepathy if you remember. I know what he did to her, down in the cells. I didn’t bring it up during his trial, but he attacked her. If I didn’t feel from her, when she looked at this boy, that something about him was not right, then I would have. But he hurt her all the same. Now, perhaps, is a different story, with his soul back, but he hurt people, Tahlia. Your own House is gone. He needs to pay for that. If you won’t use your blade on him, I understand, but it will be done. Whether you like it or not,’ Daylia said, tears pricking her eyes.

  Harrow said nothing to the accusations. They must have been true, Net thought. But, as with the others, he knew Harrow would never have done it had his soul not been taken.

  Harrow looked up at Tahlia. ‘If you don’t, people will find out,’ he breathed. ‘They’ll vote you off the council. Just do it. Better the devil I know.’ He winked at her, then swallowed hard. ‘Tommy would,’ he added.

  And Net remembered how Tommy had taken action outside the collapsed House, taking Piper’s hesitation and using her burning athame on Harrow’s wounds. He was by no means a cruel boy, but he took the best course of action wherever possible. Net knew that Tommy would take this blade up, too, if it meant he could be the one to make Harrow bleed a little less than if someone else did it. The same thoughts seemed to pass through Tahlia’s mind, and she nodded.

  Tahlia took up the blade, embedded with a glowing emerald and an intricate pattern of roots in the metal, and for the justice of her Family she placed her blade in Harrow’s right shoulder. Medically speaking, Net knew it was one of the least-bad places for a knife to be. But, of course, it seemed to still hurt like hell. Harrow tried to buckle at the pain—but his hand was still pinned to the ground—and he cried out again.

  Tahlia put her hands on him, guilt tearing at her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her voice breaking. With great reluctance, Tahlia tugged at the exposed magical vein from the wound and then erupted in a torrent of soothing apologies.

  As Harrow opened his mouth, possibly to say something sarcastic, or even that he forgave her, his eyes rolled at the pain and he passed out.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Hella

  Hella was consumed by rage and fire. She reached out for Harrow, but was taken away from him in a cloud of smoke and sparks. Tommy held her hand even though her fists were gloved with fire, and Piper’s arms were around her.

  If she had to guess, Hella would bet that her eyes were black too. Or red. She had never been so angry in her life. Before the portal finished their journey, something smacked into her: a thought, so strange and sudden all at once.

  Hella loved Harrow.

  It was obvious now. She had to go back, to protect him. They were going to torture him.

  The portal dumped them on the hard-packed gravel of the road, grazing hands and knees and backs as they landed all over each other, limbs crushed and flailing as they all tried to right themselves. Hella was still smouldering, her fire purple and bright in the middle of the day in an unfamiliar street.

  She rounded on Piper. ‘Take me back, now!’

  Tommy shimmered, got up, and stood by Hella’s side. For once, he was not thinking as an emissary or a mediator. ‘Take us back. We can’t let them do that to Harrow.’

  Hella had never heard him sound so angry. She liked it. Both teenagers glared up at Piper, who resolutely shook her head, sympathy in her eyes.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. We can’t go back. They have to have their justice,’ Piper said.

  Hella swiped out at Piper’s face. There was no intention behind it. She just had to stop her. To do damage. To do something. Piper leaned away as if she’d expected it and took her daughter in her arms. ‘I know you’re angry, but Harrow will survive.’

  ‘We can even give him his magic back, Hella,’ Tommy put in. ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you.’

  ‘Later for that,’ Piper said, a warning in her eyes. ‘My coven brought us here. They have an important message for us, let’s go.’

  Hella was sobbing, her heart wracked with guilt. She had left Harrow there, alone.

  Piper Harlem, Hella’s birth-mother, and yet, near-stranger, wrapped her arms around Hella’s shoulder as the energy that had set her on fire gave way to fear and exhaustion. Tommy held her hand, and Hella knew what he was doing: he was being her strength. He was just as afraid for Harrow as she was, she knew, but she believed him about having a plan. Tears streamed down her face.

  ‘You knew they would find him guilty, didn’t you?’ Hella looked up at Piper.

  ‘I know that Cambions have strict laws, and for his crimes, he wouldn’t find mercy with them. Even if they wanted to give it to him, the rest of the community wouldn’t allow it, especially now that Warlock House is gone. They’re scared and vulnerable, Hella. Now isn’t the time for unprecedented mercies.’ Piper led them off the road and down the street to a corner-store.

  The building was right on the edge of a river that seemed to wrap around the suburb. The store settled itself into a dark nook. The words The Shadow were emblazoned above the door in silver script. ‘Welcome to my store.’

  Hella immediately conjured up an image of Witches’ Wares (the only other witch’s shop she had seen), and her expectations were dashed as Piper led them inside. Tommy still held her hand firmly and she felt his surprise too. This place was much darker than Remy’s store: instead of sunlight, piles of books, crystals, and homemade jewellery, this place held much more sinister items. Hella could feel it in her bones. Her amulet flared as they crossed the threshold.

  The walls were painted black, dark shelves held vials of liquid, whitened animal skulls of varying shapes and sizes, feathers as long as her forearm, and a pair of antlers reached out above the shelf, pointed and sharp-looking. There was a large woven rug in the centre, purple and white. A witch sat on it, her eyes closed, legs folded in a traditional mediation stance. The woman was old, her ash-blonde hair flowing down her back. A pale-yellow light surrounded her.

  As they approached, the woman opened her eyes. ‘Oh, Piper, there you are. I was getting worried.’ The woman got unsteadily to her feet and came to embrace Piper like a long-lost daughter. ‘And this must be Hella.’ Before anyone could
confirm or deny this, the woman embraced Hella too. Hella wasn’t a fan of stranger-hugs, especially right now.

  ‘Hi,’ she said sharply. ‘Who are you?’

  The woman retracted herself and blushed a little. ‘Oh, yes, sorry honey. My name is Zoe, I’m a member of your mother’s coven. I’m glad you both got here safely—oh, and who is this?’ Her gaze fell to Tommy who she clearly had not expected.

  Despite his own raw emotional state, Tommy held out his hand. ‘Thomas Terra, ma’am.’ His voice was clear and strong, but Hella could hear the pain under it. ‘What are we doing here?’ Tommy said, turning to Piper. ‘I understand getting Hella out of there, but why all of us, here?’

  ‘Actually, there’s something you all need to know,’ Zoe said, waving them further into the store to a sitting area, smaller than Witches’ Wares, but just as comfortable. They all slid into chairs around a table. ‘Piper, there’s been an attack, in London. It was the demons. They’ve killed thousands.’

  ‘What?’ They all said at the same time, with the same amount of incredulity.

  Tommy looked the most shaken. His aunt was on the council. He would want to tell her.

  ‘How many?’ Piper asked.

  ‘I’ve just spoken to a member of The Force, and they’ve estimated just over fourteen thousand humans have been killed. They’re still in chaos over there. People are looting, terrified, trying to escape the country. A few have even killed themselves out of madness and grief.’ Zoe had a habit, Hella noticed quickly, of nervously folding and unfolding her hands on the table.

  ‘When did this happen?’ Piper asked. Hella was too shocked and wrung out to be the one to ask.

  ‘About twenty-four hours ago,’ Zoe said, glancing at the clock on the wall. She shook her head sadly. ‘It’s terrible. But the agent told me of something else, something peculiar. There were those who arrived during the London attack with weapons that appeared to kill the demons. They were thoroughly outmatched, but still. Killing a demon. Can you imagine?’