Cast in Balefire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Mage Craft Series Book 4)

by SM Reine

  “I like it,” she said. “Unconventional, but clearly my taste is developing.” Marion gripped the railing. Being even twelve feet off of the ground was making her unusually dizzy. “Why do I buy another house on Earth? Is it my Camp David?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve probably seen why you did it, but a lot isn’t sticking, even where you’re concerned.” Seth shimmered around the edges. He was the storm trapped within the house, wilder than the wind outside. “I know how you die, Marion.”

  The twist to her stomach wasn’t Sheol-related this time. She had to clear her throat before she could manage to ask, “How?”

  Seth shook his head. “I’m not making that mistake.”

  “Does that frown mean I die of old age, or I’m eaten by piranhas, or…?” she asked.

  “No, Marion.” Seth was looking more human by the moment, drawing his infinite form into something more similar to what she’d seen on the beach. She ached to remember that beach. “We’ve got to talk.”

  She licked her lips. “We do.”

  “But they’re expecting us to come downstairs soon,” Seth said. He trailed a hand down her shoulder, as if tracing her curls’ serpentine path from temple to elbow. “Before we go down, I just gotta say, I shouldn’t have left you alone with Konig—today or for any other length of time. I’m sorry.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t his fault she’d been trapped with Konig. The old adage was true in ways both metaphoric and otherwise: Marion had made the bed she slept in.

  She didn’t forgive Seth because there was nothing to forgive on his behalf. She, on the other hand, had too many sins to count.

  “I didn’t want to marry him,” she whispered. It felt like uttering those deadly words would shatter her marriage, and there would be no Winter Court to return to. Just a pile of rubble with Ymir’s body trapped underneath.

  “You don’t have to defend yourself, Marion.” Seth eyes flicked over her face, as if he were memorizing every single line of it. “He shouldn’t have had this much access to you. I should have been here, damn it.” Seth’s hand slipped to hers. He lifted her knuckles so that the pattern could shimmer in the light. “This will make sure you can summon me even when I can’t find you.” His thumb traced over them. “I didn’t know there’d be a physical mark. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” Marion said.

  He wasn’t looking at her hand anymore. He was looking at her lips, brows knitted, as if thinking very hard.

  With a slap of wind, Wintersong appeared in the loft.

  Seth’s reaction was instantaneous. He shielded her with the enormity of his form, so that Marion could barely distinguish the Raven Knight’s outline on the other side. “Wait, hang on right there,” Wintersong said, lifting his empty hands in a gesture of yielding. “I’m not here for the king. I’m not!”

  “Liar,” Marion said.

  “Nobody’s done trying to find you, your liege. Konig says we supposed to let you run. But that’s not me. I’m making sure you’re fine.”

  Her hair stood on end. “You’re spying on me again. I know you are. You’ve been reporting everything to Konig from the moment I told you about Benjamin, if not earlier.”

  “I didn’t,” Wintersong said. “It was an accident. I ain’t lying.” He actually looked embarrassed. “I might not have been real careful asking around, but I didn’t talk to Konig. I wouldn’t get on that, your liege.”

  Marion opened her mind to his, seeking his thoughts. She usually kept her senses closed in the Middle Worlds as a way to protect herself from sidhe magic, but now that she was on Earth, there was no reason not to probe Wintersong.

  She was shocked to find honesty drenching his brain. More than honesty, she found familiarity extending for years.

  “You’re one of my informants among the sidhe court,” Marion said, startled. She turned to Seth. “I had Nori reporting to me while she was serving as a delegate. Wintersong was like that too.” She turned back to squint into his brain again. His memories were bright, like he was deliberately thinking of things he wanted Marion to see.

  Wintersong had witnessed one of Konig and Marion’s major fights, back in the days before she’d lost her memory. Konig had almost hit her. Almost. Wintersong had stopped him. Later that same night, Wintersong had asked Marion if she wanted him to tell the king what his son had done, and Marion had said no. Don’t tell anyone. Konig wasn’t trying to hurt me.

  Sidhe don’t do that crap, Wintersong had replied. We don’t hurt. I should oughta tell someone.

  Marion didn’t know what she had thought of that statement. She was remembering the conversation from Wintersong’s perspective. All she knew was that Marion had smiled at him and said, No, let’s not tell Konig’s parents anything. But there’s something else you can do to help, if you like.

  Even before losing her memories, Marion had known Konig was abusive, and she’d protected him. In fact, she’d leveraged the abuse to get more support.

  What kind of monster had Marion been?

  Well, the kind of monster who had a Raven Knight on her side. Wintersong really did like her. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Marion asked. “You’ve been guarding me for months and you never mentioned this deal.”

  “You’s specifically said not to tells you before hand,” Wintersong said.

  “I knew I was going to lose my memory?”

  He shrugged. Wintersong didn’t know. Marion hadn’t explained her reasoning.

  “Marion?” Seth prompted.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “We can trust Wintersong.”

  Seth slowly shrank back to human size at her side, hanging back watchfully. Wintersong didn’t move. He hadn’t even brought a weapon. Outside of the Middle Worlds, he looked like a harmless old man who could barely stand upright.

  Warmth blossomed in her heart, and she took Wintersong’s hands. She didn’t have to use any of her mother’s old tricks to look like she was grateful. For once, she really felt it. “Thank you for helping, Wintersong. It means a lot.”

  “Don’t even talk about it,” he said. “Just knows I got your back.”

  Seth smiled. He held his hand out. “We haven’t been introduced properly. I’m Seth.”

  “Wintersong,” the sidhe said, shaking it. “You probably already know that.”

  “I do,” Seth said.

  “Funny.” Wintersong just kept shaking Seth’s hand without dropping it. “You’re the real deal but you don’t look like I remember. Hey, can I asks a question? Why you make the sidhe? Rage’n Titania both have different stories about it so I’d wanna get it from the source, since I sees the source right here and all..”

  Seth let Wintersong hold his hand as long as he wanted. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh.” The sidhe finally stepped back. “Okay. Musta been one of the other ones.”

  Lucifer’s voice drifted to the second story of the house. “Bearskin rugs? Who decorated this place?”

  “Bearskins are not so bad.” That was Ariane Kavanagh’s voice. Marion’s mother was nearby. She was keeping Adàn on a short leash.

  “Time for the meeting,” Seth said.

  It was not reassuring to be faced with the people who waited downstairs. Even Charity wasn’t a pleasure to see, as she still hadn’t put her glamour back on. The mere glimpse of Ariane was enough to give Marion a blood-pressure spike, too.

  “Of all the people I’d thought I’d be partying with this week, y’all were not among them,” Arawn said. He was eyeing the windows nervously. It was nighttime now, but the first hint of sunlight would be excruciating, storm clouds or not.

  “This is no party,” Seth said. “I gathered you all because you’re going to form an alliance.”

  Lucifer laughed and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. Vampires couldn’t cry, as far as Marion knew—in fact, vampires were lacking in a lot of bodily fluids.

  Arawn must have felt the same, because he stood. “I
only came here to get out of the dungeon. You said that you’d let me out if I came to your meeting, and I came. Here I am. And now I’m gone.”

  When he lifted his hands, presumably to cast some kind of demon magic, Charity grabbed his arm.

  “Hear him out,” she said.

  Arawn’s expression was opaque, but Marion could have known what he was thinking even if he had the best poker face in the world. Her improving magic meant she could read the surface of his thoughts.

  The demon Lord of Sheol wasn’t thinking about how others would react if he obeyed Charity. He wasn’t afraid that it would hurt his standing, or make him less authoritative.

  He was thinking about how beautiful Charity looked.

  Had Konig ever thought of Marion’s beauty without priding himself on how well it served him?

  Arawn sat back down, and he didn’t let go of Charity’s arm. She had no choice but to sit beside him.

  “I must return to my people,” Adàn said. “They’re crossing the Ethereal Levant without me.”

  “You’re about to turn them around and head for the ley lines,” Seth said.

  Adàn’s eyes turned to slits as he studied Seth. “A god, you say. One of three. I see a god before me, and I’m not stupid enough to ignore your summons, even if I owe you no loyalty. Where were you when my family was slaughtered?”

  Seth wavered. He set his jaw, teeth clenched.

  Marion knew the answer to that question. Seth would have been with Adàn’s family. He’d have walked their souls through the door to infinity, sharing the pain of their deaths with them, and he’d have ushered them to reincarnation. As far as Seth was concerned, he’d done the killing himself.

  If Seth had been calculating enough, he could have handled that complaint easily. It only took a little attitude.

  He was not calculating enough.

  “Do you think the lives of your families matter to the gods?” Marion asked, stepping in front of Seth. She fed every ounce of pain into a chilly mask, a chilly tone, that would ensure the stag shifter understood even the leader of LCI was no more than an ant. Wintersong was an impressive force reinforcing her words, old as he was. “You should be—”

  “Hey.” Seth grabbed her wrist. Marion lost her train of thought instantly. “It’s all right.” He turned to Adàn. “I haven’t helped in a lot of places I could have. Even gods fuck up. But I’m here to help now.”

  “Help how?” Lucifer asked with quiet, dangerous mirth. “By telling us about how great world peace could be, if only we’d stop fighting?”

  “You should be united because of the problems you face,” Seth said. “The shifters want a sovereign world. The demons want to relocate to the surface. The unseelie don’t have an army. There are common solutions to this if you work together.”

  Marion caught on to his line of thought. “The demons will never be able to reach the undercity in Barcelona without help.”

  “We’ve got coverage,” Arawn said.

  “What’s sufficient for vampires may allow your demons to reach Spain, but you know as well as I do that they’ll be crippled without weeks of recovery afterward.”

  “Crippled.” Lucifer snorted. “That’s awfully dramatic. A crippled demon’s still twice as badass as any human.”

  “But not angels.” Marion spread her fingers, allowing angelfire to lick down to her fingernails. “Now that Jibril is dead, the angels will be headed by Suzume, and she’s not a forgiving soul. She’ll slaughter the lot of you while you’re still suffering a sunlight hangover.”

  “That’s the demons’ problem.” Lucifer raised a lazy hand. “The vampires and I don’t have any problems. Can I be excused, teacher?”

  “You’ll lose your drug supplier if Sheol descends to anarchy,” Marion pointed out.

  “I’ll lose my life if I get killed,” he said.

  “Dying is inevitable.” This came, surprisingly, from Ariane, who stood by the windows and was watching it all with a tiny smile. “You’re already a walking cadaver, Lucifer. You’d be amazed the control that Death has over you.”

  “But he won’t wield it,” he said. “Look at him. He doesn’t even know what to do with omnipotence.”

  Marion tried to tug her wrist free of Seth. Damn it all, she could handle these people—every last one of them. She could show them where they stood in the world. She could make them feel how tiny they were.

  Seth didn’t let go. He was focusing on Lucifer. “I know what you want.”

  “Oh? Do you?”

  “I can give it to you,” Seth said.

  Surprise flitted through Lucifer’s crimson eyes. He rubbed a hand over his upper lip, considering. His thoughts were a challenge to read. Marion could tell he was wondering if Seth would truly intercede on something so large, but not what they were talking about. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You’ve got the darknet because I gave it to you. I want you to use the access now. Find out everything about Shamayim—what’s in there, what the weapon is, how we destroy it. We have to be ready,” Seth said.

  Lucifer was motionless for a long moment, but then he seemed to come to a decision. “Consider it done.”

  Seth turned to the others. “Between your two factions, you’ve got enough followers to match the Summer Court’s army. I want you to seize the Veil and hold the entrance to Shamayim. You don’t have to go inside. You just have to keep everyone out.”

  “It’s possible to get there if I have someone who can open the wards,” Adàn said. “I have the planeswalkers for it.”

  “Titania is the only one who can modify the wards in the Middle Worlds,” Marion said. “She’ll have to open a hole in order to cross from the Summer Court to the Veil, though. I assume she’ll do it at the last moment.”

  “Then we’d need to leap in at nearly the same time she does. We’ll confront their forces directly.” The shifter folded his arms across his chest. “A lot of people will die if Titania pushes.”

  “Why is the risk worth it? What’s in it for us?” Charity asked.

  Seth looked startled. “For you?”

  She just looked at him expectantly. Marion recognized Charity’s thought process, because it so closely mirrored Marion’s own thoughts. Charity had realized that if she said Arawn should go, he would go, and he’d also stay if she suggested it. He trusted her. She wanted to earn his trust.

  “Afterward, I’ll move everyone where they want to be,” Seth said after a moment of confusion. “Shifters to Sheol. Demons to the undercity. What happens after that is up to all of you.” He was looking at Charity when he said that.

  She exchanged looks with Arawn.

  The demon shrugged.

  “How much time do we have before Titania opens a hole in the Veil?” Adàn asked.

  “Hours,” Seth said.

  The stag shifter stood. “Then we’d better get moving.”

  27

  Marion retreated to the bathroom—the one place she didn’t have to tell Wintersong not to follow. Nothing happened when she flipped the light switch. The house’s power had gone out at some point. She touched decorative candles with a fingertip and flames flared at their wicks.

  Marion studied her form in the mirror on the door. She was the same woman who had woken up in Ransom Falls last October. Her hair was more tousled than she’d permitted it to be recently, and most of her makeup had rubbed off, but the only otherwise remarkable thing about her was her newly marked hands.

  She lifted them, palms facing toward her, so she could see the markings on her knuckles in the mirror. It looked like she was wearing lace that had been molded to the shape of her bony hands, a topographical map of elaborate swirls in stark black.

  Seth had marked her. Their relationship was tattooed in bold lines on one of the most visible parts of her body.

  The corner of an envelope caught her eye. It was tucked behind the mirror, and it took only gentle tugging to extricate it. Onoskelis’s third labor had somehow appeared in Marion
’s future house, and her name on the front of the envelope was written in black lines as stark and clear as the mark on her knuckles.

  Marion slid her thumbnail under the wax seal.

  Inside, she found the longest of Onoskelis’s messages to date. Take the unseelie army to the Veil. Stop Benjamin before he dies.

  “Dies?” Marion said aloud.

  A damp circle appeared on the paper, blurring the ink. Marion’s fingertips flew to her cheek. Yes, she was crying.

  She stuffed the message into the trash.

  Her reflection was no longer unremarkable. She looked like a woman shattered, barely capable of standing upright. She should have felt less miserable knowing that she had never been as alone in the Winter Court as Konig wanted her to feel, but having Wintersong on her side was even worse. He was one more person who would suffer—and probably die—if Marion failed to maintain stability in the kingdom, just like Ymir would.

  Yet even they were in less immediate peril than Benjamin, lost in the Veil with Leliel.

  Marion barely felt the doorknob under her hand. It turned and she went outside to find that Wintersong was blocking the bathroom door, ensuring that Ariane couldn’t step inside.

  “She’s my daughter,” Ariane protested.

  Wintersong didn’t even speak. He was a wall of sidhe power.

  “I have no time for you, Mother,” Marion said. “I have already lost more than I should have.”

  Ariane stopped trying to fight. She stepped back slowly, a strange smile on her face. “Very well, my sweet. I understand. I only wanted to praise you.” Her eyes flicked toward the kitchen. Seth was barely visible through the doorway, talking to Charity. “You’ve exceeded my expectations, and they were never low.”

  Marion had never felt so repulsed by her mother. Had she still been keeping a journal, she’d have surely written an entry filled with expletives about this conversation. “Goodbye, Mother.”

  Ariane curtsied. She slipped out of the house, presumably following Adàn to help him gather the shifters.