Indebted to Faerie (Stolen Magic Book 6)

by WB McKay

  The Morrigan let out a cooing laugh. "Lovely. Toss it to me."

  I quirked a brow. "You got it."

  The ball of magic crossed the fifteen feet between us in a blink. The Morrigan wasn't interested in my new version of this light, where I could knock people unconscious, and that's not what I threw at her. I'd put everything I had behind it. Rather than dodging it like someone rational, she stood statue still until the magic hit her in the chest.

  She didn't collapse—something I had mixed feelings about. The Morrigan shuddered, not in pain, but in apparent ecstasy. For the first time, I saw what I presumed to be a genuine smile. She let out a long sigh. "That was… wonderful." She rubbed the spot on her chest where the magic had entered her body. "Another."

  It was hard to classify how I was feeling. I'd just thrown my most powerful magic at The Morrigan and she'd absorbed it like it was the best meal she'd ever had. If she had dropped dead on the spot, my life would have become much simpler. Still, she was my mother, and she was showing an interest in me and my magic. I wanted to deny her because I knew she was more interested in my magic than she was in me as a person. I hated that some small part of me, buried beneath all the anger and sadness, still wanted her attention. Was I any better than the crowding clansmen?

  Either way, my bargain didn't allow me to actually refuse, so I lobbed another death ball at her, expecting her to absorb it and probably fall into a puddle of bliss on the ground.

  Instead, when the glowing ball came close, she held up a hand and it stopped, hovering as she circled it, her eyes wide with fascination. "Death so pure," she said, in awe. "How do you keep from laying waste to all those around you?"

  I ignored her. She was too intent on the death light to care.

  She stopped circling when the ball of magic was between us again. The clansmen were inching closer. We seemed to take notice of them at the same time. The Morrigan's smile turned speculative. "It's a remarkable thing to wield death itself. An exceptional ability; something that makes this magic singular in a world of sameness." She met my eyes. "It seems a shame not to share it."

  The light flitted toward the knot of clansmen at high speed.

  Shock dropped into my gut like a cold rock.

  "No!" I shouted, my hands whipping out, as if the motion would allow me more control. I might as well have been pressing against a wall of solid rock for all I was able to alter its path. It hit one of the clansmen in the stomach, crumpling him to the ground in an instant.

  I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe how obvious it was. I should have known. The clansmen weren't here as spectators. Of course they weren't. They were guinea pigs, there so The Morrigan could use me, her new favorite instrument, to find new and interesting ways of killing.

  I wouldn't do it. I couldn't have done this. I wouldn't. This isn't happening.

  My feet finally started moving, heavy as boulders, bringing me to the corpse of the clansmen.

  The dead man stared up at me.

  His brethren parted around me in quiet awe. There was no anger or disgust on their faces. They accepted this. They find this acceptable. Nausea overwhelmed me, but I wouldn't let myself be sick near the brave warrior I'd just killed. When I saw who it was, I knew this was no random target.

  The man lying on the ground was short, broadly built, with a black beard. I could still hear his accented English. He'd volunteered to check the Orani cave for traps. He was one of the few clansmen I could have picked out of a lineup. He hadn't died in battle, fighting for something he believed in, or quietly in his sleep. He'd died in an experiment he hadn't signed up for. A game The Morrigan played. With my magic.

  No. Nope. Nope. No.

  I knelt by his side and took his rough hand in mind. It was still warm, as if he were only sleeping. No breath stirred his chest.

  "Another," said The Morrigan, just behind me.

  I jumped up and turned to face her, anger stopping the trembling of my jaw. I hadn't killed the man whose name I didn't think I'd ever learned, The Morrigan had.

  "You want another?" I asked, bile rising in my throat. I felt the death magic seep through me, a burning cold that settled in my chest. I could see nothing but The Morrigan in my field of vision.

  She stared me down, her face full of mirth and amused curiosity. "Yes, give me another," she said, a hint of a laugh in her voice.

  I raised both hands and was struck by the sight of them. Yes, The Morrigan had killed him, but I'd been her instrument. Me and my death magic. Whenever I thought I was adjusting to the weight of it, of the vile knowledge of what I was capable of, something like this happened.

  How many more would die?

  I had to undo it. I just had to. I dropped my hands and whipped around, staring at the man whose death I was responsible for.

  Suddenly, there was a strange new awareness in my mind. It was like someone had stepped up behind me and spoke in a whisper I couldn't quite make out. It only took a second to realize it was the Fleece. I'd never felt it so directly before. It was offering a solution, but it wasn't forcing it on me. I had to want it. Maybe that was the way it had always been. I had just always wanted it.

  It didn't matter. I wanted this. I needed to undo the horrible thing I'd done. I mentally leaned closer to the insistent whisper and then I knew. The realization of it shocked me.

  My eyes focused on the world around me again, and I found my hands glowed with an angry red light. It was the color of a fresh wound. The Morrigan spoke behind me, but her words were an inaudible mumble.

  The Morrigan. She was death incarnate. She had killed the brave clansman because it amused her. And she had used me to do it.

  He deserved to live.

  I knelt beside him and placed my glowing red hands on his chest. I immediately felt a burning warmth rush through my body as I repaired the damage my magic had done to his heart. I hadn't realized that was how my death light killed until I was repairing it. Dizziness washed over me as the healing magic completed its work.

  The almost-there voice of the Fleece urged me to feel through his body for my death magic. It was there like an icy touch, lurking in his tissues. If I didn't draw it out, his body would be healed, but he would remain dead. I called it back to me like I would a death light in open air. It drew slowly from his body, filling me with cold that washed away the mental haze of the healing fever.

  Somewhere along the way I'd closed my eyes, and as the last of my death magic was drained back into my body, they opened again. The man before me pulled in a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at me, his blue eyes wide with shock.

  He was alive. I'd brought him back to life.

  The Fleece had been truthful.

  I could undo death.

  "Angel," he said, the word thick and accented.

  Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. "I'm no angel," I replied and reached up a hand to wipe away my tears. A glowing white light made me squint. "What the hell?"

  The glowing light was radiating from my skin. Not only on my hands, but everywhere. This wasn't just any light. I recognized it instantly. It was my death light; instead of being a cutely formed ball that fit in my hand, it was pouring from my entire body. Where my knees touched the ground, the grass was dead and blackened.

  I stumbled to my feet. While the heat of the healing magic had dissipated, the dizziness hadn't. I had to get away from the clansmen before I killed them. Every step I took killed more plants and grass. The clansmen parted before me, their jaws slack with wonder. Would they never know when to be properly afraid? I guessed that was okay. I was scared enough for all of us.

  A forest loomed before me and I pulled back when a tree began to wither and die under my hand. "What the hell do I do with this?" I said, staring at my glowing palm. "Will I be like this forever?"

  The whispering voice of the Fleece gave me an idea. I turned and stared into my mother's eyes, alight with curiosity.

  "Do it again," she urged. "Kill another and bring him back. You need to ma
ster this ability."

  I was overloaded with death magic, and the Fleece urged me to dump it into The Morrigan. She delighted in absorbing my death light. If she couldn't handle it, she would die, and that was acceptable as well. The Fleece cared nothing for what might happen if she gained this huge boost in power.

  A new wave of dizziness washed over me and I stumbled into the tree. The contact was too much, and the tree blackened. Within a second it was dead, but my shroud of glowing death remained bright and strong.

  My mind wandered off on a tangent about not telling Phoebe about the dead tree.

  "It's too much," I said, my breath coming out in a ragged gasp. "I can't do anything until I get rid of this."

  "Yes," agreed The Morrigan. "Let's straighten you out so we can try again."

  I wanted to argue, but I didn't have the breath. The Morrigan's hands wrapped around mine. "Here," she said, pointing them toward the soil at the base of the dead tree. "It will disperse in the ground," she urged.

  I nodded dumbly. She wasn't suggesting I give it to her, and I'd do anything but that. I summoned my death magic to my hands the way I usually made a death light. One giant ball of white light formed in front of my palms. I pushed it away and into the dirt.

  There was a soundless rush, like a bomb of silence that expanded around me. I collapsed to my knees, and the ground below me made a crunching noise. A gasping sigh escaped my throat. I hadn't noticed the crushing cold of death that had gripped my heart until it was gone.

  My vision finally focused on my hands and they were back to normal.

  "Beautiful," said The Morrigan. "Such beautiful death."

  All around me was a blackened circle of dead plants, and a few small animals. The circle was big enough that I'd killed another two trees. "Phoebe is not going to be happy about that." My words were immediately followed by the bubbling of a manic laugh.

  "There," said The Morrigan. "Now that you're coherent, let's try again. I want to observe this new strange power you have."

  My manic laughter grew when I realized that I was dangerously close to losing my mind and The Morrigan considered me coherent. Then I realized what she was asking and my laughter choked off in an instant. "You want me to kill someone again, and bring them back? What the hell is wrong with you? This isn't a party trick!"

  "Yes, you owe me training time, and this is what I demand," said The Morrigan imperiously, no doubt that she would be obeyed.

  "No," I said flatly.

  The Morrigan's features transformed instantly from intrigue to utter fury. Nobody refused The Morrigan and lived to tell about it.

  A shout rang out from the ring of clansman that had gathered at a safe distance. "An intruder approaches!"

  CHAPTER NINE

  Before I could make out who was coming, The Morrigan clamped a hand on my arm and we dissolved into a cloud of smoke. Her anger was palpable as our minds brushed together, but most of it was focused on the intruder. We flew past the clansmen and down to the approaching carriage at blinding speed.

  The horses pulled to a skidding stop, drawing their heads back, threatening to rear. It was only with considerable effort that the driver got them to settle.

  The Morrigan stepped out of the black cloud in her typical fanfare of feathers as the door opened. Aengus emerged, and was followed by two guards in silver and gold armor. Aengus himself was dressed in heavy red fabrics, embroidered with gold.

  I started to speak and realized I was still in smoke form. A moment of struggling to shift back met with no success. The Fleece was silent. I was stuck like this until The Morrigan wanted to change me back. Not one to give up, I considered fighting for longer, but I didn't want to miss their conversation. I'd already missed the pleasantries, which I was sure weren't all that pleasant, judging by the look on The Morrigan's face. Then again, Aengus was grinning like an idiot.

  "If you wanted something of mine, all you had to do was ask and I would have given it freely," said Aengus. "You are my love!"

  Love? What the hell? I thought they were enemies.

  "I took nothing of yours," said The Morrigan. "I have no use for any of your armor. I am one with death. If She wants to take me, I will go willingly. I would not hide behind a piece of metal or leather."

  It took me a minute to work out what was going on, but a significant glance told me she'd had no such trouble. She knew from the beginning that Aengus was here because I'd stolen his armor. Apparently, the glimpse he caught of me jumping out his window had led him to believe I was The Morrigan.

  "Did you take my armor?" he asked, plainly expecting The Morrigan had said something to evade telling the truth.

  "I did not take your armor," replied my mother, a smile pulling at one corner of her mouth.

  From my perspective, I understood that smile. She must have surmised I'd been the one to take the armor, though I hadn't mentioned it to her yet. This made telling him the absolute truth easy enough. There wasn't a vague fae lie around her statements, like she didn't consider the armor to be truly his. There were few ways he could word his question to catch what The Morrigan was leaving out, and he'd have to really stumble into it. Aengus looked too confused to ever get there. "But you love me as much as I love you. I know you will return to me." When The Morrigan said nothing, he blustered on. "You should attend the ball in Derinia with me. We would make such a stir."

  The Morrigan sneered. "I shall do no such thing. You should crawl back into your carriage before I have your head on a pike." She glanced meaningfully at the group of twenty clansmen who had approached silently and were holding their weapons at the ready.

  Aengus ignored them in the way that only someone of either rare stupidity or rare power could manage. "The ball is three days from now in Derinia. It is a masquerade. I'd be honored if you would attend with me." I knew he was powerful, so maybe it was both.

  "Get out of my sight, Aengus." She waved him away and didn't wait for him to respond, returning back to the cloud of smoke where I waited.

  Instead of returning to the clearing to continue her experiments with my magic, she deposited me on a bench in the dining hall, and alighted on her throne in her winged human form.

  My thoughts whirled in a confusing twist. I was still struggling to understand what this new development with my magic meant, then I was hit with the revelation that Aengus was in love with The Morrigan. What was that all about? Was she using me to get revenge on her ex-lover?

  "You stole your new armor from Aengus," The Morrigan said, not like it was a question in itself, but her head tilting in that distinctly bird-like way, telling me she found something about my actions curious.

  I saw no value in hiding the truth, so I nodded. "The armor is impervious to fire. Derinia is my first target."

  "Are you planning to attend the masquerade ball?" she asked, her earlier ire replaced with something akin to wry amusement.

  I shook my head. I hadn't even known about it, though that didn't seem like the kind of thing I should point out. I had to remember to keep whatever information for myself that I could. Knowledge is power. For one thing, it lets you lie. Remembering that I was supposed to reply verbally, I told her, "No, I was going to get to Derinia and figure things out from there."

  "So impulsive," said The Morrigan, shaking her head.

  I gritted my teeth. Impulsive. I'd wanted to be impulsive and go straight to the lava land, but instead I'd talked to Graulfv and decided to do some research and track down that armor. I'd done the responsible, patient thing. Impulsive. How was she supposed to know if I was impulsive or not? She didn't even know me or what I was doing. Impulsive. It was impulsive of her to call me impulsive! I locked my jaw tighter to keep myself from saying exactly that. It felt like a good point, but I had a strong feeling I'd keep ranting and feel even angrier I hadn't come up with a better insult later. She's not even worth my insults. How about that!

  The Morrigan, not knowing me at all, didn't seem to notice or care about my frustrations with her a
nd her impulsive comments.

  "I've done some of your work for you, so perhaps you won't fail. Now we have to get you a suitable outfit for the masquerade."

  My mouth dropped open. "Are you saying that you're going to go shopping with me?"

  Shopping with your mother was one of those rites of passage. Either you loved it or you hated it. I'd been through it with Belinda, the only mother I'd ever known, and I'd loved it. We made fun of the same clothes for the same reasons. In the end, we only ever bought one outfit a piece, if that. We weren't the shopping type. Shopping with The Morrigan, like everything else, was certain to be torture.

  "The Morrigan does not shop," she replied. "Unless you think you are incapable of following simple instructions, my presence won't be necessary."

  If I wasn't careful, I was going to crack a molar gritting my teeth the way I was.

  I finally noticed The Morrigan looking at me expectantly.

  "You're just staring at me," I told her.

  "I'm waiting for you to tell me you can follow simple instructions," she said. "Can you follow simple instructions?"

  A growl rose in my throat. I wanted to walk away without her precious instructions, but I had no idea where in Faerie I could find an outfit for a masquerade ball. If I did it on my own, I'd have to go back to Earth and owe her more training time. I let out a heavy breath. "I can follow instructions."

  "Good. A page will bring you a letter containing the instructions before you depart." She looked down her nose at me. "I expect you'll be saying goodbye to the useless leader of this rabble." She waved a hand to indicate the clansmen who had just clomped in from outside.

  They all continued to stare at me in awe, especially the short man with the black beard.

  "Yes, your page can find me with Graulfv," I replied, biting back all of my retorts.