Devious Magic (#3 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series)

by Camilla Chafer

  “On the table, here, man,” Auberon instructed, clearing the few things off the table between us, setting them on the floor under his chair. The man holding the tray crossed the room and set it down between us, not even glancing at me. Picking up the teapot, he poured each of us a cup, adding sugar and milk to Auberon’s, none to mine. When he was finished, he backed away silently; then they were both gone.

  Something else occurred to me then, something to keep me from having to choose between life and death. “Why do you use magic here if you hate it so much?”

  “You noticed? When one is trying to defeat evil, one must also be protected from it.”

  “So, who’s doing it?” They must have a witch, someone who’d turned against the supernatural world, or someone who was being forced into performing magic for them. My questions came thick and fast. “Is that how you found me? And the other witches? By magic?”

  “You don’t really expect me to answer your questions, do you? Don’t let your tea get cold.” Auberon leaned forward, stretching his hands towards the fire, warming them, while I picked up the delicately striped china cup. Just as I was bringing it to my lips, I noticed it swirl strangely, far more than it should. I paused and stared at it as two very distinct letters formed.

  NO.

  No? I frowned at it. Someone, or something, was interfering with the liquid, and whoever it was, apparently, didn’t want me to drink the tea. Puzzled, I put the rim of the cup to my lips, pretending to drink as Auberon turned to look at me, silently watching.

  While I pretended to sip, I took a moment to think. Of course, I didn’t expect Auberon to answer my questions, but if he were planning on killing me, it would be useful to have a little extra knowledge. If nothing else, I might be able to transmit it to Étoile before I bit it. Besides, the bad guys in movies always gave terrific soliloquies and admitted everything right before the heroine was saved, and they got their comeuppance, so I really, really hoped we were going to have one of those moments.

  I should be so lucky.

  Auberon might not be willing to tell me much, but at least, I did know now that there was someone supernatural working with them and that person was willing to risk sending a message to me. Maybe that meant there was another prisoner in the house, or, at the very least, someone who wasn’t so enamoured with the Brotherhood that they wished to sit idly while I drank... well, it clearly wasn’t just tea. Poison, perhaps, or a sedative would be easy to conceal. Maybe they knew other things that would help. If I could just get to them, maybe they would help me. There were an awful lot of maybes to consider there.

  “Drink, dear Stella. You must be cold.”

  I pretended to sip again, careful to make sure that not a single drop of the tea landed on my lips.

  “I imagine you’re tired after your flight, and, well, everything else. I’ll have one of my men escort you to your room so you can rest. You must have a great deal to think about. We can talk over your decision at dinner tonight.”

  “You’re not sending me back to the cellar?”

  “Of course not.” Auberon sounded surprised. “We’re not uncivilised here.”

  What about Annalise? I wanted to ask. Was she okay? Hurt? I hoped Nameless wasn’t mistreating her. I hoped his cuts from her claws got infected.

  “Take a moment or two to clean up when you’re in your room. Someone will collect you for dinner.” Auberon turned away, and just like that, I was dismissed.

  I was going to protest, but a man hauled me up by my arm. I hadn’t even seen him enter the room. Before I could ask any more questions, I was marched towards the door, now standing ajar, and Auberon sat back in the wingchair, out of sight.

  Just as we reached the door, it opened further and a young man stepped through, causing me to immediately step back. The guard barrelled into me and I started to fall. The newcomer, a young man, grabbed me and set me to rights, holding me up for a moment longer than was necessary; our hands touching. As our eyes connected, I caught the faintest scent of magic from him. He wasn’t much younger than I, maybe only a couple of years and he had sad eyes.

  I knew I should have ignored him, shrunk away, pretended I didn’t feel a thing, but there was no denying what he was. As I recognised him, he knew it too. He shivered for a moment, his eyes burning into me, but didn’t say a thing. Then he stepped past and I was propelled outside, the door clicking shut behind us. Our brief encounter couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds.

  The house was less of a rabbit warren than the cellar and I tried to draw up a mental blueprint from Anders’ old plans. We crossed the foyer but, instead of turning into the room that led to the cellar, I was pushed towards the stairs, almost tripping as we ascended quickly. Halfway up, I paused when I saw a picture of a lovely woman, her dress formal but in a much newer style than any of the other portraits. She was breathtakingly pretty. My mother. The guard pushed me on and I tried counting the turns we made before he paused at a door. I was hungry and disorientated and wasn’t concentrating as well as I should be so, instead of being able to pinpoint my location, I simply felt lost.

  Opening the door, the guard pushed me inside with a firm shove between my shoulder blades. As I skidded to a halt on the carpet, righting myself, the door shut quickly, a key turning. I hammered my fists against it even though I knew it was fruitless. After a while, I just stood there, resting my forehead against the wood, breathing hard.

  Turning around, I leant my back against the door and looked at the room. Dominating the large room was a four-poster bed, piled with cushions and a thick quilt, and velvet drapes that were tied at each corner. There was a wardrobe, and an armchair, and a tall chest plus a nightstand. The walls were covered in floor to ceiling tapestries hung in long panels. I couldn’t make out the pattern so, curious, I stepped forward and found them embroidered with flowers and birds. It was very pretty, accentuated even more by being in this place, which deserved nothing beautiful. Though the room was distinctly nicer than the cell below the stairs, I was still a prisoner all the same. If Auberon thought that being in a comfortable room would make me forget that, or even find his offer more appealing, he was wrong.

  There were two other doors, so I tried them quickly. One led to the attached bathroom, definitely a modern addition. The other was locked and I couldn’t see anything when I peered through the keyhole. It looked like something was pressed up against the door; furniture, perhaps. The window looked over an enclosed courtyard, featuring flowerbeds, but when I tried to open it, the sash was stuck. I flopped onto the window set and rested my head against the pane, suddenly smiling when I realised I knew where I was. Despite losing my location in the house, I now knew I was on the west side of the house, the furthest side from the woods where I was captured. It might seem like inconsequential information, but I knew in the woods, there were eyes I couldn’t see.

  My whole day might have been a bust so far, but at least, I knew one thing, the young man with the sad eyes had felt my magic as surely as I felt his. For the brief moment that our hands touched, he drew my magic forth, not through him as Étoile had, but to intertwine with his because his ran free. He tacitly let me gauge his power without a single word.

  I had an ally.

  Thirteen

  I paced around the room for what seemed like forever. I couldn’t rest even though my limbs felt heavy and sluggish; it felt wrong somehow – Annalise lying on the cold stone floor while I occupied this plush bed. When I first heard a soft creak, I almost dismissed it, until I heard it again, this time with a scraping sort of sound. Initially, I was paralysed by indecision, not sure whether I should retreat into some corner, or investigate. If there were a chance to exit, I wanted to know about it and that’s what won me over. I kept my footsteps light as I navigated the room. The scraping noise wasn’t coming from the door I’d entered, or the bathroom, or the locked door. I turned around, puzzled, trying to trace where the noise was coming from. I even looked upwards to the ceiling, even though I knew
that was a little foolish.

  When a figure emerged from behind one of the long tapestries, I jumped backwards with a start; but something about him told me that I shouldn’t be afraid. He stepped forward, holding his hands up, then putting one finger to his lips. It was the young man from the library.

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Hi.”

  “Did you drink the tea?”

  I shook my head, no. “That was you? Sending the message?”

  The young man nodded. Now I had a chance to look at him a while longer. He was probably a little younger than I originally thought. Maybe in his late teens, or just tipped over to his twenties. He was gangly and tall and walked in a way that made me think he’d shot up suddenly and didn’t quite know what to do with his long limbs. His chestnut hair was tucked behind his ears and he smiled uncertainly.

  “The tea was spiked with a sleeping drug,” he explained. “They expect you to be unconscious for the next couple of hours, so you’ll have to pretend to be sleeping if you hear anyone near the room. When you woke, your power would have been neutralised, to make you less of a threat. I don’t know how long it lasts.”

  That sounded ominous, and I was grateful that he warned me. It was also interesting that, despite the Brotherhood using some kind of magic to suppress mine, they still weren’t confident that I wouldn’t be able to do something. I felt a little more positive at that. “Thanks.”

  “I’m Daniel.” He didn’t try and shake my hand, instead, just slumped against the wall. I thought he was trying to appear as unthreatening as possible, staying his distance but close enough that we could talk in hushed tones. On one level, it was working. I wanted an ally. I wanted to know I wasn’t alone; but I wasn’t prepared to put all my faith in a stranger, certainly not one connected to the Brotherhood.

  “Stella,” I replied, but he probably already knew that. “Are you a prisoner here, too? How did you get here?”

  “I’m not a prisoner, well, not as such. I came through the passageway.” Daniel beckoned me over to the tapestry, which he pulled back to reveal a doorway where the panelling slid backwards. A long tunnel stretched into the dark and there was a large flashlight sitting on the floor. Daniel continued, “There’s lots of these passageways, all over the house. Some were for the servants to get about without being seen in the old days when the below stairs people were not allowed to be seen or heard. Some were for the original owners to come and go as they pleased, invisibly. Not many people know about them and I’m the only one who uses them now.”

  “Are there any that can take us outside?”

  “I think so, but it’s too dangerous, so I haven’t tried. A couple of the tunnels that lead from the house caved in years ago. There’s two more that I know of, but, like I said, I haven’t tried. They might be blocked too.”

  I sat on the bed with a sigh and watched Daniel. “So, if you’re not a prisoner, what are you?”

  Daniel hesitated a moment, looking deeply uncomfortable, before answering, “Auberon is my dad. I, uh, that makes us...”

  “Cousins,” I finished solemnly. “You know, I went my whole life without family? Then, in a few hours, I find out I’ve got a serial killer uncle, and a cousin who... What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “I want to help you.”

  “How?”

  “Well,” Daniel thought for a moment. “I didn’t let you drink the tea, and I let you look over me, so you knew what I was.”

  “A witch.”

  “I prefer warlock,” he confirmed.

  “Whatever.” I knew I was being a touch dismissive, and I appreciated Daniel coming to me, if he were being genuine; but I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the whole family reunion thing. Another realisation dawned and it wasn’t a nice one. “You’re the one who’s been practising magic for Auberon.”

  Daniel nodded, his head bowed. After a moment, he came and sat on the bed beside me but I didn’t move away. He was quiet and I got the impression he wasn’t just uncomfortable with his role in the Brotherhood, he was deeply ashamed.

  “You helped him find me?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And the other witches? You know he kills us when he finds us?”

  Daniel didn’t move for a while, and then nodded, just once, his eyes closing for a moment. I remembered how Auberon had offered me a position with the Brotherhood: finding other witches in return for my life. Maybe Daniel had been given a similar option. Maybe he’d always had to do what his father told him, no matter how awful. I wonder how long it had taken him before he realised what he was doing for them.

  “Why hasn’t he killed you, too?”

  “I expect he will, when I’ve served my purpose, or bind my magic. I’m not a particularly strong warlock. No training, see? So, I can’t do a lot of the things my dad needs me to do, or I muddle them. He needs a stronger witch, like you.” Daniel said all this without any particular emotion. It stood to reason that he’d had a long time to think this over. What a horrible thought that was. I couldn’t imagine the hell of growing up knowing all that.

  “What did he want you to do?”

  Daniel looked up then, cocking his head to one side. “Someone’s coming. Pretend to be sleeping, and I’ll come back soon. I’ll tell you everything then.” He started to slip behind the tapestry, pausing to grab his torch from the floor.

  “Wait! Can you get Annalise and me out of here?” I whispered frantically, but the panelling was already creaking back into place and Daniel was gone.

  I had enough time to leap across the room and skid into the bed, slumping into a ball as the door opened. I could feel someone’s eyes on me, as I lay there, rigid, but no one came any closer to check and, after a few seconds, they went away. I hoped they would forget to lock the door but I heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning, locking me in again. Except this time, I knew there was a way out.

  Rolling onto my back, I lay on the bed, waiting, wondering what I should do. There wasn’t much in the room, certainly nothing to occupy my time.

  Daniel hadn’t shown me how to open the passageway from inside the room, so I got up and walked over to the tapestry, pushing it to one side and running my fingers over the panelling. While I could feel the shallow grooves of the opening, barely perceptible unless you were looking, I couldn’t find any sort of handle. It made sense that there would be a mechanism to open the door somewhere in the room, so I pushed, prodded and pulled at all kinds of things, hoping to find it. I tried everywhere from the floor, pushing with my foot in case there was a hidden lever, to running my fingers over the tapestry, hoping for some kind of pull cord. Wherever it was, it was so well concealed, I couldn’t find it.

  By now, I also hoped Gage had reached Étoile and that they were making some kind of headway with the local wolf pack. Perhaps Evan was here too, or on his way. I couldn’t imagine him staying out of the fray too long. Combined with Anders’ coven, they would make a formidable force, if they could find a way onto the grounds, and the house, without attracting attention. Perhaps that was something that Daniel could help with. I didn’t like the idea of relying on someone so entrenched in the organisation, but Daniel didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt me, unlike the others. Perhaps he was trying to make reparations in some way. I admired him for that. Another thought occurred to me; perhaps he saw me as his way out, too. I couldn’t be cross with him about that. It must be frightening for him, living in a house full of people who hated his kind, being forced to use his magic against us. If I could help him, it was the right thing to do, I decided.

  Making my way over to the window, I sat on the broad seat that spanned its length and stared out over the gardens, almost barren after the winter hibernation. The sky was cloudy and overcast but the sun seemed to be at full strength, even if it were only weakly making its way through. I guessed it must have been mid-afternoon, so I had been here for around twenty hours. That meant Annalise had been here for close to five days.

>   Somewhere below me was a door that opened onto the garden, but I had no way of reaching it. I could just about pick out the door set into the wall that led beyond to a wide expanse of lawn. It was almost completely open for several hundred yards before trees started dotting the grounds and there were several people walking around. They seemed to be assembling something with wood. Whatever it was, I couldn’t make it out because it was in the very early stages of construction. Even without the people currently working there, trying to escape that way would guarantee my getting caught. But that was a moot point, seeing as I didn’t know how I would get there anyway.

  Twisting the ring on my finger, I thought about Evan again. I wondered when he would come for me, and what would happen if he did. Then I remembered that sometimes you didn’t wait for rescue, you had to do it yourself.

  I didn’t dare sleep, so I dozed again, my back pressed against the wall. My mind was racing with possibilities and I was so sleepy I must have dropped off because I woke with a start when the door opened. Pete, the prison guard, stood in the doorway.

  “The master says you’re to dress for dinner.” He hung a dress over the wardrobe handle and placed some shoes below. It was velvet, cut quite high on the waist, with a long skirt that flared a little. It was in a red so dark, it was practically black. The shoes were black, plain and flat like ballet slippers. “I’ll return for you in twenty minutes. Please be ready.”

  I nodded and that seemed to be enough because he left, turning the lock again. I didn’t hear his footsteps so I assumed he was standing just outside the door, waiting.

  The idea of changing didn’t appeal to me, but my clothes were filthy and the mud had dried on both my jeans and sweat top where I’d fallen. My jeans were still a little damp and they clung to me, but somehow I hadn’t really noticed it until now. Blood and sweat mingled to give me a generally yucky air. I wouldn’t want to have dinner with someone dressed like me either.