Mist, Murder & Magic

by Dionnara Dawson

  Harrow had known at least one person in there, she knew. Lisa. Hella had only caught a glance of her. A woman with short curly brown hair, hazel eyes. Hella couldn’t stand the palpable grief here, and there was no sign of Amara, so they moved on. She didn’t know Amara well, and all the places or people that meant something to her. If she had gone to them, though, someone would have found her by now. Then, a sudden and terrifying thought struck Hella in the middle of the road. It had been her own fire that had burned in Valhalla, then had taken down the Warlock House. What if the fire had been so hot that it had incinerated—

  She couldn’t even think it. No, she and Harrow weren’t burned. She wouldn’t let herself think of it.

  But she had to figure out what had happened to Amara.

  ‘If Amara was in the building, she would have been found,’ Hella said, running out of ideas.

  ‘So, she had to have left the building at some point, but how? Why? Why wouldn’t she have gone home, or for help?’ Tommy said.

  There was only one answer, and they all seemed to think it at the same time.

  Amara had not left the building on her own. She was the only healer. Someone, somehow, had taken her. That was the only thing that made sense.

  It had been two whole days. ‘Amara’s been abducted,’ Hella said.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Immego

  One of the best things about working with Jacqueline is that she was never afraid. Fighting with her in London proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt as Immego had watched her slash down at the mass of demons with their blades. He had always admired her fearlessness. It had only grown over the years.

  But a person’s attribute you admire can also be something of a dilemma in certain situations. Fearlessness, Immego found, had often led Jackie to be impatient and reckless. That was the case at the site of the Warlock House collapse. They had approached, to try to sneak in and sneak more Marks to produce more (much-needed) weapons, when the foundations had begun to crack and tremble. It wasn’t until they were leaving that Immego realised Jackie had made up for her losses in another way.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that,’ Immego hissed at her, carefully facing away from the silver-haired faerie knocked out on their couch when they arrived back home, covered with dust.

  Jackie, however, just smiled. He still didn’t know how she could look put-together like that, both covered in ash and dust, and having just escaped a near-death experience, and then casually abducted someone. She shrugged her shoulders delicately, filing her nails. ‘I don’t know what you’re complaining about,’ she said. ‘You’re the one who said we needed to make more, urgently, I believe you said. This is a way of doing that.’ Jackie looked the faerie up and down. ‘I think I could make at least four blades from her, assuming she has nice silver wings.’

  ‘She does,’ Immego said absently.

  Jackie peered up at him through her long, dark lashes. ‘If you don’t want her to recognise you, we’ll just kill her when we’re done—’

  ‘No,’ Immego said firmly. ‘We are not angels. We don’t do that.’

  Jackie tilted her head. ‘Then go wait in your room. I won’t need your help.’

  Immego folded his arms over his chest, worrying at his bottom lip.

  Sympathy poured into her eyes like chocolate icing dripped onto a cake. ‘Imm, the building collapsed. All the Marks are gone, the ones that were already severed. There is no other way to do this. You know as well as I do that if we’d had more weapons, we could’ve saved more people in London. They’re just Marks—’ She cowed at the anger in his eyes. ‘I mean, I know I don’t have Marks. I just meant we’re not going to be taking lives, we’ll be saving them. Don’t you want that?’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘But let me talk to her first.’

  ‘Why?’ Jackie said.

  ‘She’s a healer. If she knows why we’re doing this, maybe she would give up her Marks voluntarily.’ Immego knew it was a long shot, but Cambions were never offered a choice. Never. He owed Amara that much. When Jackie opened her mouth to voice her doubt, he cut her off. ‘Please, Jac. Just let me try.’

  Finally, she shrugged. ‘Fine. I’m going to shower, you have a nice chat with her, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’ll recognise you, and she’ll out you, brother.’

  ‘I’m not worried about that right now,’ he said, waving her away.

  Immego sat with Amara, and she looked at him with utter betrayal. It had been two days since they had brought her here, and she had not, as they had hoped, been willing to give up her Marks for the greater good.

  ‘I’m telling you, Imm, if she doesn’t give it up, I’m going to knock her out at take them,’ Jacqueline growled, not for the first time.

  Amara shimmered, in a constant state of fear, her silver wings flapping nervously. ‘I can’t believe you would do this.’ Her voice was low and she was tired. Immego was the only reason Jackie wasn’t making four silver blades right now. Her impatience was growing, and he knew he couldn’t hold her off much longer.

  ‘Jacqueline,’ Immego snapped. ‘Why don’t you go shopping or something, hey? Go and buy some new clothes or whatever, and get us some food while you’re out because there’s nothing to eat around here.’

  Normally, he wouldn’t have gotten away with snapping at her, much less ordering her around, but the girl did like to shop. She pouted and picked up her purse. ‘If this isn’t resolved by the time I get back, I’m getting us another one and we’ll get the Marks whether they like it or not.’

  Immego swallowed. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, trying to brush her off. He needed Amara to see that giving them up willingly was her only way out of this. They were silent until they heard the front door slam shut.

  Amara slapped him across the face. ‘How dare you do this.’ She snarled, tears in her silver eyes. ‘I thought I knew you, but you’re despicable.’

  They hadn’t tied her up—Immego didn’t allow it—but now he wished they had. ‘Ow,’ he said pointedly. ‘Do you really think that was a good idea?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t care. You’re vile. You are a warlock, a Cambion—how can you do this?’ Amara demanded. She was still dusty from the collapse, her hair now hanging in limp strands. They’d given her leave to use the bathroom when necessary and fed her here and there, but every time, Jackie had complained.

  ‘I’m not doing it for fun or sport,’ he said, desperately trying to make her understand. ‘I’m not doing this for the hell of it. It has to be done to stop the demons.’ They had told her about the attack on London, even showed her news clips about it, but he didn’t think she believed them. Though, if he hadn’t seen it first-hand, he might not have believed it either. ‘You’d be helping people, Amara. That’s what your power is anyway. Don’t you see that?’

  She looked at him as if he were a perfect stranger. ‘You’re completely mad.’

  Immego shook his head. Jackie could spend all day shopping, or buy an entire new wardrobe in an hour. He had to assume he didn’t have much time. His sister would lose her patience, and there would be nothing he could do to stop her, or ease the process for Amara. It would be vicious and bloody if Jackie had her way, and he couldn’t let her. She was a force to be reckoned with, but she was eager to do this for the right reasons. There could be another demon attack any day now, and they hadn’t made any more weapons. This had to go faster.

  Immego reached out and clasped Amara’s hands in his own. ‘I’m sorry, okay? I know what I’m asking seems terrible, but it’s not.’

  Amara gazed deeply into his eyes. ‘You believe that, don’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course I do. I can finally do some good in the world. We have a chance to make these weapons. When the angels reigned, if we could have made weapons this way to save ourselves from them, wouldn’t we? Do you really think Cambions wouldn’t show up here voluntarily if this were about angels?’

  Amara frowned
, uncertain.

  ‘Think of all the lives we could’ve saved. Marks are a part of us, obviously, but they’re not worth our lives and we can now use them to save other people. Amara, why won’t you do that?’

  She didn’t retract her hand, but she stared at him, hard. ‘Have you? Have you given up your own Marks for these weapons?’

  It had come up, early on. Immego had offered, but even his fearless sister wouldn’t carve up her own brother. He had thought about trying to remove them himself, but it would be too messy. Jackie was surgical about it, but if he tried he’d probably bleed to death. ‘If I convinced Jackie to take my Marks, then would you give up yours?’

  Amara shook her head, silver hair flying. ‘No, this is wrong.’

  ‘Saving lives is wrong?’ Immego couldn’t understand why she didn’t get it.

  ‘I know why you’re doing this, but I never thought…’ Amara trailed off. ‘Jacqueline is a witch, right? She doesn’t have Marks.’

  ‘No,’ Immego admitted. His sister had shown a certain ignorance when it came to Marks, it was true. To his surprise, Amara reached up and touched his hair.

  ‘I still can’t believe it’s you.’ She gazed into his eyes, grey as steel. ‘You’ve fallen so far, Wyatt.’

  Immego blanched at the use of his old name. ‘No, Amara. You don’t see it. I’ve risen so high.’

  Immego had not thought of himself as Wyatt for a while now. It was an identity of his childhood-self: the one who had been kicked out of home, that child who hadn’t found solid ground until he met someone special. His name had been Austen. Then he had been cut down by the angels. ‘Wyatt’ was an identity he had worn only as a mask from that day until he reunited with Jacqueline. She had suggested he change his name, his appearance, and together, they would change the world. She had set him free.

  ‘You’ll see,’ was all he said to Amara now. ‘If I can’t convince you, then Jackie will.’

  ‘She’ll take my wings? You would let her do that?’ Her wings fluttered nervously.

  ‘That’s not what I meant. Jackie will return with another Cambion, and she will convince them to volunteer their sacrifice.’ Immego leant forward on the coffee table to peer into Amara’s eyes, grey and soft. ‘Perhaps this is our grand destiny, Amara. Why we were put here, don’t you see? We’ve risen so high, all of us.’ He raised his hands with an easy smile. ‘We’ve banished the angels. They’re finally gone from us. Now we shoulder the burden of battling the demons, our own part-kin nonetheless. Amara, only our Marks can destroy them.’ Elation filled him, a freedom that he had never known spreading through his body.

  ‘Are you on some kind of cadere?’ Amara asked, her eyes wide. ‘Has your sister drugged you?’

  Immego ignored this silliness. ‘I understand that you’re hesitant,’ he went on gently, ‘your wings are part of you and your body. But to save someone you love, would you not cut off a hand? Why would you not sacrifice this for the lives of countless defenceless strangers? I know you, Amara. You are not selfish or cold-hearted.’ From his belt, Immego produced a small blade. He watched as she recoiled from the shining indigo blade. ‘Amara, this is one of the most special things we could ever have made or contributed to. These blades, these weapons, are a part of us. They’re the best refinement of our magic, wielded into a weapon. We, as Cambions, don’t stand a chance against demons, but these? They work every time, with a single stab. How incredible is that? You want to know something? I want to get Jackie to call them Deme blades. You know your Latin, don’t you? What do you think that means?’

  Amara hadn’t quite grasped the uniqueness of the situation she was in yet. Somehow, she looked afraid. ‘Deme? “De me” means of myself.’ Her eyes widened.

  Immego smiled, holding out the blade. ‘That’s right. These weapons are made of us. This is our legacy.’ He reached out to her, but she grabbed the blade and slashed at him with it. Immego yelled as the blade tore easily through his skin and his arm bled freely.

  Amara’s eyes widened at the severity of the damage, watching his wound burn and sizzle.

  ‘Amara!’ How could she do such a thing? The faerie took the blade and ran out the door. Immego, pouring blood onto the carpet, grabbed for a towel to wrap around his wound.

  Jacqueline was going to kill him.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Hella

  Hella clapped her hands to her mouth, horrified that she hadn’t thought of it before. Her cheeks warmed in the cool breeze outside, ashamed that she had been so involved with her own problems that she hadn’t considered the danger Amara was in. But who could have taken her? And why?

  Hella paced the street of the burned down Cambion Den. ‘Shit, shit, shit. It’s been two whole days. She might not even be alive.’ The terrible thought came hard and unbidden, a truth she could not ignore.

  ‘We can’t think that way,’ Tommy said, but she could see her own worry mirrored in his eyes. Together they decided to head to Faerie House—the rest of the faeries had to know the danger Amara was in. Hella texted Net what was happening on the way, praying to the stars that Harrow was okay.

  It only took them ten minutes to run to Faerie House. Hella’s forehead was slick with sweat. Net ran up to meet them.

  ‘Amara’s been abducted,’ Hella said without preamble.

  Net looked as if someone had given him a complicated mathematical problem. ‘What? Who would do that?’

  Hella shook her head. ‘I don’t know but it’s the only thing that makes sense. If she’d left the building on her own, she would have come here, and if she didn’t we would have found her in the building.’ She looked Net up and down and did a double-take when she saw the dark-blue stains on his otherwise white shirt. ‘Is that Harrow’s? Is he okay?’ Distracted, she turned to Tommy. ‘We have to—’

  Tommy quickly silenced her with a look.

  ‘I think Hella is right,’ said a voice behind her. They had been approaching the double-doors of the entrance, when someone had come out to greet them. Tahlia Terra. She had her hands on her hips and was biting her lower lip. Hella had left her there with Harrow and the other council members, but the ceremony must be over now if she was here.

  ‘Harrow’s resting,’ Tahlia told her. ‘I know you were thinking about him.’

  ‘What did you do to him?’ Hella started forward, but Tommy held her back. ‘Is he okay?’ Flames danced over her fingertips.

  Tahlia looked from Hella to Tommy, and then to Piper. ‘I wouldn’t have blamed you for wanting to burn us all to the ground for what we did, Hella, I hope you know that.’

  ‘That’s not an answer,’ she said pointedly, wriggling out of Tommy’s grasp. She doused her flames.

  ‘He’s alive and, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for his punishment.’ Tahlia looked more than a little uncomfortable with her part in this. ‘Look, something’s going on. We just talked to The Force. I knew that London attack wasn’t normal. It was demons.’

  That’s right, Hella thought, they didn’t know.

  ‘Yes,’ Piper admitted. ‘It was.’

  ‘You knew?’ Tahlia said. She seemed personally offended to not have been told this earlier.

  Piper raised her hands. ‘I’m sorry, I only just found out.’

  Tahlia looked as if she wanted to reprimand Piper, but shook it off. ‘Well, apparently someone tried to do something about it.’

  ‘There were weapons,’ Hella put in, remembering what Zoe had said.

  ‘Yes, some very strange ones. The Force admitted to working with someone who has developed them. They assure me it’s true: those weapons can kill demons. If only they had more, they could’ve saved a lot more lives,’ Tahlia said.

  ‘That’s all really fascinating,’ Hella said, ‘but what has this got to do with us, or Amara?’

  Tahlia shrugged her shoulders. ‘I wish I knew. They refused to give up their source. I also wish we had some of those weapons. They didn’t tell us anything
about them, or how they were made.’ Tahlia suddenly shoulder-bumped Hella. ‘Oh, and I meant to say thank you, by the way.’

  Hella raised her eyebrows. Her mind was on Harrow, and she suddenly wondered if he was alone in the store. She needed to be with him, to see him.

  ‘For restoring Warlock House. It looks great. We’ll relocate everyone shortly. Thank you, Hella,’ Tahlia said.

  ‘It was both of us, actually,’ Hella said absently. This all didn’t matter.

  ‘Oh, well then, thanks to both of you,’ The warlock amended.

  ‘Is Harrow alone?’ Hella looked up at Net.

  ‘He’s asleep, Hella. I suspect he will be for a while. We need to let him recover,’ Net said gently.

  ‘I need to see him. Maybe I can heal him,’ Hella said.

  ‘That is forbidden,’ Tahlia said sharply. ‘Why put him through that if you could heal him right after? No, he has to heal naturally. If the council finds out you—’

  Hella’s teeth clenched angrily. So many stupid, cruel rules. ‘Fine,’ she snapped.

  ‘But there are still those here who are injured from the collapse. They need healing. They need you, or Amara,’ Tahlia added, more kindly.

  ‘My healing isn’t easily controlled,’ Hella admitted.

  ‘I understand. We need to find Amara anyway,’ Tahlia said.

  ‘I think I might know someone who would take her.’ Meele approached the group from the House. Her gaze flickered to them all, then landed on Piper. ‘You,’ she said. Her voice was full of superiority, Hella realised. ‘Piper Harlem. I saw you at the trial. It’s been a long time.’

  Piper looked as though she would have liked to bury one of her athames into Meele —after all, this was the woman who had made her give up her baby. Hella.