Realms of Mist and Ash: Fae Witch Chronicles Book 2

by J. S. Malcom

  “Thankfully, it was the wee hours of the morning,” Helen says. “He spent an hour hiding naked in the supply room, while we scrubbed his clothes and dried them at the hearth.” Helen wags a finger at Mitch. “Just barely back into your clothes before the house woke up, weren’t you?”

  Helen’s face is almost as red as Mitch’s now at the memory, although with mirth rather than embarrassment. She laughs, as we do too. I haven’t laughed in days, and was starting to wonder if I ever would again. We’re still laughing when suddenly the hearth fire sputters, then drops to a flicker. The torches do the same, dimming low but not quite going out.

  Glances are volleyed back and forth between us. No, it’s not that late. The family won’t be going to bed yet, not even the children. Besides, we’re not allowed to stay up as late as they do. They want us out of their sight once we’re done with our duties.

  A moment later, the fire blazes back to life. The torches bloom with magical flame.

  “We better hurry,” Helen says. “Lily, finish putting those things away. Megan, dry those and get them back on the shelf. Mitch—”

  But he’s already rising from his chair to leave. “I know. I’m going,” he says.

  Mitch is gone less than a minute when it happens again. The fire starts to falter, the flames all but going out and the lights failing.

  “What’s going on?” I say, as I finish drying the last pot.

  Lily speaks softly. “We’re not sure, but we think sometimes their magic fails.”

  “Wait,” Helen says, “the bell will ring in a minute.” She points to one of a series of bells on the wall, each designated for different needs. A few I’ve come to know, such as which one means Raakel wants something sent upstairs to the children’s wing, since each time Lily fulfills that task. There’s another summoning service to the sitting areas on this floor, one for Lord Ferndelm’s study, and several more. Each has a corresponding phone receiver hung on the wall—like something from an old movie, shaped like a bell, but without the part allowing you to respond. That’s not considered necessary, since you should do as you’re told. It’s beyond absurd but the Seelie, despite having all modern capabilities, refuse to let go of certain aspects of their past that define them in their privilege. The bell that just rang, however, hasn’t rung before.

  Helen looks at me and nods. “It means go below,” she says.

  She and Lily exchange glances that tell me the rest of the story. The Seelie don’t like to be caught without their magic, and in this instance they’ve lost control. We either move fast or face being punished. But what if we don’t, and make an unexpected move? In the same moment, I feel just a trace of magic rising within me, and I wonder if Helen and Lily feel the same. Would Lily even recognize her natural gift, should it return to her? Did Helen once master her half-blood magic in some distant past?

  There isn't time to ask these questions, or to discuss our options. Helen and Lily move nervously, frightened, as we finish up. We leave the kitchen, Helen throwing a glance over her shoulder to check things. It's so ironic, and sad, that they've been so thoroughly broken. They're actually at their most frightened when their Seelie masters pose the least of a threat.

  Once more, I vow to help them, but I follow them out of the kitchen and down the stairs. Right now, I’m far from sure I could do anything, and they've managed to survive here for all of these years. I have no right to create a situation that could get them killed.

  Lily and I get back to our room, where our lamp continues to flicker. What do you even call this? A magical brownout? Is there something the Seelie do to make repairs? There must be. The thought is still so strange to me, so counterintuitive, that the ley line of this world has been enslaved. Or has it? Because, as if hearing my question, the ley line responds by bestowing back a little more of my magic. Not much, but I feel it all the same. Just as I hear the faint whisper of a woman’s voice. You. You're finally here.

  “Listen,” Lily says, “Do you hear it?”

  For a moment, I think she means the voice, but what Lily hears I do now too as I turn my senses outward again. Hooves beat at the ground, first approaching and then fading as they clatter past outside.

  “Who is that?” I leap up onto my bed and then onto the dresser. I peer out into the night, catching a glimpse of the riders before they fade into darkness.

  “Get down, they'll see you!” Lily says.

  “Who will?”

  “Lord Ferndelm's men. Please get down.”

  I can't ignore the fear in her voice, so I climb down again. I sit on the bed, for a moment wondering if I could call up a fiery orb or enough force to blow the bars off that window. I don’t think I could, not yet.

  The lights flicker and flare, brighter this time before dimming again. It's just a matter of time until the Seelie lock the magic down again. It's like I can already feel it shifting.

  “Tell me about the men,” I say. “Who are they? How many are there?”

  Lily lets herself relax now. She sits on her bed as well. “Each royal house is assigned a security detail. This house has eight men. I don't know their names. We avoid them at all costs.”

  Yeah, I bet. “Only eight?”

  Lily searches my eyes. “Yes. Why?”

  I shrug. “Just curious.”

  Still, she hesitates before saying, “I guess it's some sort of tradition. Helen told me that, at one time, each house had its own army. Well, not army, but like a platoon or something. Back when the Seelie fought all kinds of wars. Now they don't need that kind of protection.”

  Sure, because they wiped out all of their enemies and took control of the magic. Scintilia is a dying kingdom in a dying realm.

  “So, what do the men do?”

  “They take turns on guard out front. They protect Lord and Lady Ferndelm as they come and go. Sometimes, I guess they go hunting. Things like that. Can we change the subject?”

  I know without asking why she wants to. I've seen men like those before, haven't I? And I know what they love to hunt. “Of course. Honestly, don't be nervous. I was just curious.”

  The lights suddenly brighten again, not quite to full power, but close. “Oh, look,” Lily says. “I bet they nearly have it fixed.”

  The sad part is that she sounds relieved. At the same time, my heart sinks as that trickle of magic within me starts to ebb away. I don’t think I had much of a chance, but there’s no doubt that whatever chance I had is definitely gone.

  CHAPTER 27

  As it turns out, I don’t sleep very long. Instead, I awake in the middle of the night, the veil witch part of me knowing even before I open my eyes. When I do, she’s there once more, standing beside my bed and surrounded by her glowing aura. Fashenan once again flickers back, and then beckons for me to follow. I feel like pointing out that maybe this isn’t the best night for it, with her father’s henchmen galloping about and the family already on edge. Then I realize that the house remains perfectly still. No sounds come from outside either now. The fae world seems to be asleep.

  Fashenan beckons again, and I get out of bed. We emerge into the hall and it’s dark. Really dark. Suddenly, I realize why. The torches barely glow. Does this mean what I think it means? My gut tells me yes. Something's gone wrong and the Seelie don't know it. They fell asleep thinking they'd enslaved the ley line again.

  But the Seelie haven’t mastered the magic, nor has it been given to them. Somehow, they’ve subjugated her. And how do I know that the ley line is a woman? She spoke to me. What’s more is that I again feel the tingling of magic in my veins. Just a trickle, but it's there all the same. Like a dead battery, it seems I’m receiving a slow charge. What this means, I'm not sure. Maybe, in this realm, if my magic comes back all at once it would be too much. Perhaps it could even overwhelm and kill me. Could that be what I felt before?

  I once again follow Fashenan up the stairs to the hall. Why would she take me to that same locked door? It seems to make no sense, but she must have something new
to show me, something that will help me to receive her message. She hasn’t once spoken to me, and yet she chose me. She must have known, as ghosts always do, what I am. Just as I somehow know, that if she spoke, I wouldn’t understand. Somehow, as Cade said, language gets translated for those visiting another realm. But Fashenan is no longer truly in this dimension. She may keep one foot in this plane, but her essence now belongs to another.

  She takes me to the same door, this time passing through. Seriously? For a moment, I again wonder if she might just be playing a prank on me. But then I think about what Helen said, how Fashenan abhorred her mother’s cruelty. So much so, that her rebellion against it ended her short life.

  Then something else occurs to me. Maybe Fashenan knows that at least some measure of magic has returned to me, if just temporarily. I reach out, take hold of the doorknob, and it yields to me. I suddenly understand what Helen meant that first morning. Of course the Seelie wouldn’t bother with something as simple as keys in a lock. They use magic.

  I step into that room again, trying to repress the rage I felt at the humiliation I suffered there. Lord Ferndelm’s words echo through my head. Effectively, you owe us your life. You seem like a bright girl, so I'm sure you understand this. I force myself to stay calm and look around.

  Fashenan still casts her glow, but in this room windows reach to the ceiling. Moonlight spills in now as well. Fashenan silently points toward a blank expanse of wall. It’s the only one not occupied by either bookcases, the fireplace or the door through which I entered. Rich, polished wood catches the moonlight, casting a glow of its own. But it’s just a wall. I look at Fashenan and shake my head, telling her I don’t understand. A chill ripples through me as she draws closer and takes hold of my hand. She points again.

  Suddenly, a feeling washes over me, rushing up from within. Like there’s someone else there with us. Not in the room, and not a ghost either, as a face flashes inside my mind. A woman with long red hair, lustrous and smooth. Her mouth is sensuous, her lips full, her cheekbones high and proud. Her dark eyes gaze into mine. Am I seeing the ley line? Somehow I know that I’m not. The woman I’m seeing is a queen of the witches.

  The power within me suddenly intensifies, an electric arc jolting my body. Instinctively, I spread my hands and thrust them toward the wall, seeing past it now and knowing that it’s more than just the wood that’s glowing. It’s what’s held within, silver discs that now shine back at me, each engraved with ancient Faerie runes. Their light leaps out toward my hands, magic connecting with magic, as another current surges through me. I watch as the wall slides open to reveal an alcove, an abyss without light. Fashenan steps in, her own ethereal essence illuminating that space to show that it holds a pedestal built from smooth polished onyx. Upon it sits a perfectly round globe made of the same material, its surface reflecting what little light there is seemingly way more than it should. I have no idea what it is, but I’m nearly overwhelmed with the desire to touch it.

  I’m about to step toward it when the globe starts to radiate a glow of its own. It keeps growing brighter, rising into the air to hover and spin. A sudden blast of light explodes against my eyes. I stumble back, and then wheel around to realize that the room behind me is now completely illuminated. Not just from the light of that globe, but from torches which have flared back to life.

  My heart hammers as I dash from the alcove. If Fashenan is still with me, I can’t possibly know in this room ablaze with light. I can barely think or see. Then I hear her voice. Somehow I know it’s the woman I saw. She speaks calmly and with regal authority. Use your magic while you can.

  I realize she’s right. What little remains is draining away from me fast. I can’t begin to understand what’s going on, but I know that the Seelie are taking back control of the magic yet again. If not from within this house, then from somewhere nearby. And that globe has something to do with it. While there’s still time, I spin back toward the alcove and spread my outstretched hands. The panels slide closed to hide the spinning globe. I turn and wave my hand through the air to lower the torches. They dim, as the last of the magic flows out of me, and I leave the room to find Fashenan waiting in the hall. This time, she guides me back, only disappearing again when I’ve safely returned to the room I share with Lily. I crawl into bed, my heart still pounding. In time, though, I realize that the night outside and the house above remain perfectly silent. Our Seelie masters remain asleep.

  CHAPTER 28

  Strangely, I'm up before Lily the next morning, which has never happened before. Then again, I slept fitfully, my dreams a swirling collage of glowing runes, secret alcoves, spinning orbs and Fashenan’s flickering presence. Many of those dreams also included the woman from my vision, with her noble face and her dark eyes showing depths of wisdom. Upon awakening, I think of her again, her image indelibly etched upon my memory. Who was she? It’s not possible I know, but I felt a deep connection to her, almost as if we’d known each other in the past.

  I get out of bed and touch Lily on the shoulder. I whisper to avoid startling her. “Lily, you said we should wake up early.”

  She groans and tries to roll over. Upon failing, she mumbles something I can't make out into her pillow. It's too out of character for her when, even despite her ongoing captivity, she's usually the one to wake me up with a smile and an attempt at cheerful words. I touch her shoulder again, a little more forcefully this time. “Lily, wake up.”

  She turns onto her back again, coughing as she opens her eyes. A sheen of sweat slicks her forehead.

  “Hey, are you okay?” It's a stupid question. Clearly, she's not.

  Her eyes widen in alarm. “How late is it? How long did I sleep?”

  “It's okay,” I say. “It's early.”

  Lily sits up and starts coughing again. “No, no, no. This can't be happening.”

  “What's happening? I don't understand.” My pulse escalates at the thought that there might be something seriously wrong with her, that she might have some condition I don't know about.

  “I'm sick,” Lily says. “I think I have a cold.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across my face. “Okay, that's what I thought. You scared the heck out of me.”

  Lily jumps out of bed and hurries to get dressed. “You don't understand. We can't be sick. What if Raakel finds out?”

  You have to be freaking kidding me. We're not even allowed to get sick? “It'll be fine. She doesn't have to know.”

  As we climb the stairs, I wonder if I can make good on that promise. I suppose if we're lucky, it might be possible. Most days, thankfully, Raakel steers clear of us. As long as we get our work done and all goes well, we may not see her at all. The feeling I get is that she'd rather not taint herself with our presence, but that's just fine with us.

  Maybe we really are running late, or it's just because of the lost time last night, but Helen has already started in the kitchen. She's mixing batter at the work table, while behind her several items are already simmering on the stove. She wheels our way as we enter the room. “Right, you two. We lost at least an hour of prep time last night. We need to get cracking on those scones we—” She stops at seeing Lily, whose face has grown even more flushed. “Oh, Lord. Don't tell me.”

  Lily doesn't have to say anything, since at that moment she's visited by a fit of coughing.

  “It's just a cold, right?” I say.

  Helen nods, and then shakes her head. “To us, it's just a cold, love. To some others, it's another reminder why we deserve our lot to begin with.”

  I frown in confusion. “Don't the fae get sick?”

  “That's just it, they don't. And God forbid one of us is sick around her children.”

  “But that doesn't even make sense.”

  “Doesn't have to, does it?” Helen points to a high shelf and says, “Now, fetch me those sheet pans. You and I can look after the baking.” She turns to Lily. “Go make yourself a cup of tea, love. And be sure to add plenty of that fa
e honey. It's good for what ails you.” She lowers her voice to a mutter and adds, “At least they got that right, even if the bees make it for them.”

  Thankfully, I've been there long enough to take over most of Lily's duties. God forbid she should overcook or burn anything, so we take care of food prep while Lily slowly cleans up behind us. As it stands, she's gone from flushed back to fish belly pale. She seems a little unsteady on her feet. Working with knives or heat would be out of the question.

  We plod our way through the predawn hours preparing the ridiculous amounts of food the family either consumes or wastes each day. It seems I've at least sharpened my kitchen skills, since Helen and I are holding our own. But when the fire in the hearth fully blooms, reminding us that the Ferndelms will soon start making their demands known, I wonder if Helen has stopped to consider this aspect. I know I have.

  Usually, Helen and Lily run trays out to the family while I stay in the kitchen. Partly because I'm still learning, but I suspect it’s also a kindness. Presumably, Helen and Lily have been hoping to spare me another painful confrontation. All the same, Lily can hardly venture out of the kitchen in her present state, and Helen can only be in so many places at the same time. So, when one phone rings, followed by another moments later, I suspect we have a dilemma. The look on Helen's face confirms that we do.

  “Lord Ferndelm has requested breakfast be sent to the sunroom, where Lady Ferndelm will be joining him. Lady Ferndelm was on the other line. She wants Erdella’s breakfast to be sent upstairs.”

  “It's fine,” I say. “Just let me know which one.”

  I say it, but don't really mean it. The idea of serving Lord and Lady Ferndelm makes my skin crawl. On top of that, I magically trespassed in Lord Ferndelm's study last night, and I can't help but fear he'll sense that when I'm in his presence. I tell myself that’s irrational, but magic is unpredictable. You just never know.