Malignant Transfiguration (Endeavor Series Book 2)

by A E M

  “I’m just a weaver.” Vincent said quickly.

  The man snorted. “Tsk. Just a weaver, eh? Nobody is just anything until their life is in danger.” He looked at Charlotte. “You know, I’ve always wanted an apprentice. Perhaps I should take this one off your hands?”

  Vincent gripped Charlotte’s hand harder. “No, please. We are bonded, and she’s very young.”

  “No matter.” The first man stroked the beast beside him and stepped closer. “Hand her over. If you do, I’ll spare you both. If you don’t, I will kill you both.”

  Vincent turned and picked Charlotte up. He kissed the top of her head quickly and whispered, “He will take you no matter what I do. Be brave, Protégé. I’ll find you. I promise. Be good and listen, understand? You save the sauciness for me when I find you; right now just stay alive.” He tapped the leather necklace she still wore. “You can do this. Remember all the words I’ve given you since we’ve met.”

  “That’s enough. Hand her over.” The man reached forward and grabbed Charlotte by the arms. He yanked her to his side, and then blasted Vincent into the bookshelf.

  Charlotte screamed.

  The man shook her and shoved her out into the hallway.

  Charlotte struggled against her captor as she watched several dwarves and the false Charlotte and Vincent being pushed into a portal by a group of strange looking men. One of the men looked like a dwarf, but he had the tail and face and hands of a cheetah. Charlotte struggled harder against the man who had taken her. He shook her hard and slapped her. “Enough, brat!” He hissed. “You will be supper if you don’t stop!” He dropped her in front of a snarling beast and smashed his shoe into her chest. Charlotte shuddered as the drool from the beast dripped down on her skin. She felt the heat begin to spread across her skin, and she closed her eyes and thought of Vincent and the library and the first time she had felt a sense of purpose in her life. She kept her eyes closed as the man lifted her back up and she felt the pull and tug of the portal.

  “Open your eyes.” The man laughed. “This is one nightmare you won’t be waking from, child.”

  They were in a small, filthy hallway. Charlotte coughed and covered her mouth. She blinked, and then held her nose instead. The men laughed. The rest of the captives stared quietly at her. Charlotte looked down at the floor. She was the only one who wasn’t bound, but she didn’t dare move. There were too many beasts snarling and circling around them all. The men shoved the captives in cells. Charlotte was shoved into a cold, damp cell across from false Charlotte. She gripped the bars. Surely he wouldn’t leave a child in a place like this!

  “Be good and maybe I will let you out and train you.” The man said to her before shutting the door at the end of the hallway shut. The hall was silent. The light bulb sizzled and went out. Tiny pattering sounds filled the air. Charlotte felt something brush against her foot.

  “Rats.” Somebody said from another cell. “Child, get up on the bench in your cell.”

  Charlotte scrambled around the cell. She hadn’t looked at it before the light went out. Why didn’t she think about looking around? She finally bumped into a bench and scurried on top of it. She sat, frozen in fear. What was going to happen to her? She curled her feet in her socks and thought of earlier that evening before bed.

  Vincent told her to get ready for bed, and after she had done so, he fussed over her socks not being thick enough. She knew that he was fussing over her because he needed to reconnect. They both needed that, but so far they hadn’t been able to. So he had grabbed a pair of his socks from his briefcase and slipped them on her feet before zipping up her sleeping bag.

  “Do you want a story?” He asked with further questions in his eyes.

  She turned away from him. They had both stayed like that for several minutes, the bond between them tense and painful.

  “Lotts, please.” He whispered finally, and she had gulped down a sob. So he remembered something. When had she heard him call her that last? But she was angry with him and still mourning, so she punished him in return. She shoved memory after memory and sensation after sensation of her and Beau through the bond as quickly as she could before he managed to snap the bond back at her and block the transference.

  “Point to you.” He whispered. “Wake me if you need anything.” He laid a hand on her head. “Even if it’s just a need of silent company.”

  Charlotte gripped the thick, warm socks. Would she have his silent company again? Would she get to fight with him again? She focused on the bond. It was still there, but it had slackened. She shivered and curled up tighter. David would find him and save him. And Beau would find and save her. She leaned against the corner of the two cell walls and closed her eyes. The darkness of her mind was preferable to the darkness of this dungeon.

  Sometime later the door opened, and the light fizzled back on. Charlotte opened her eyes and sat up. The gangly man was back. Two fairies, shimmering green, stepped in and stopped outside the door to imitation Charlotte’s cell.

  “Do you want to take her back with you?” The gangly man asked.

  “No.” The taller fairy responded. “Well, not the way you expect.” He pressed his palms together and opened them quickly. A beam of green light shot out and hit false Charlotte, burning her into ashes.

  The real Charlotte stared in a frozen huddle.

  “One more down.” The fairy pulled a small bag out of his pocket and opened the drawstring. He sang:

  Crimson to black

  Life to death

  Dance to me dust

  You have no more breath

  Once you were yours

  Now you are mine

  Come to me now

  Ashes so fine

  The dust from imitation Charlotte drifted up and into the bag as he sang. When the song was over, he tightened the bag. “Easy come. Easy go.”

  “My reward?”

  “Certainly.” The fairy answered loftily. “Let’s take care of that elsewhere.”

  “Wait.” Interjected the other fairy in a low voice. “You should release her master. Send him back to report her death.”

  “Good idea.” The gangly man said. He opened the fake Vincent’s cell and pulled him out. “Time to run, weaver. I’m feeling generous, yet playful. I’m shoving you through this portal. It will take you within a couple of miles of the dwarves’ den. Run fast. I’ll release my pet after you in a few minutes.” He shoved false Vincent into the portal. The man laughed. The fairies grinned.

  “Did I say a few minutes?” The gangly man asked. “Come, here, boy.” He petted the creature with the head of a crocodile and the body of a tiger. “Maim, don’t kill. He needs to get back to the den. Drag him there if you must.” The creature leapt through portal.

  One of the fairies turned and fixed his eyes on Charlotte huddled in the corner. He sneered and held the bag out. “Didn’t you ever wonder where fairy dust came from?” Charlotte shuddered, and they all laughed at her. They left and the light fizzled out again. Charlotte wept silent tears. The heat began to crawl across her skin. She gripped her arms and cried harder. No! No, she would never be a fairy again, never! She thought about being a painting instead. A very old painting in a very old hallway where many bad things had been seen. The painting had seen death and sorrow and battle and loss. It saw them and still it hung straight and strong on the wall. The heat settled and she wiped her tears away.

  The dwarves in the other cells began to sing:

  Warrior strong, go now in peace.

  Your battle is finished,

  Your honor was true.

  Faithful to the end, we will remember you.

  Charlotte sunk down against a wall and cried. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her legs. Two of them were gone now. What would they do with the rest of them?

  “I think the child in the cell next to me is a weaver apprentice. They were talking to her.” A voice said. “Did you see? I haven’t heard a word from her.”

  “Child,” Another dwa
rf said. “Can you speak or give us a sign that you are okay? Do you know enough to make light?”

  Charlotte stood slowly and looked out between the bars of her cell. She wasn’t sure what she could do. There wasn’t anything to burn, and that’s all she knew. But wait. She held her hands out between the bars and let her magic form a ball between them. The dirt and blood stained faces of the dwarves stared back at her through their own bars.

  “Good. That will help.” One of the dwarves said.

  “Can you speak?” Another dwarf asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know how to do anything else?”

  She shook her head no.

  The dwarves looked at each other, and then back to her. “They will follow the bond if he is still alive.”

  Charlotte started to smile, but then she remembered that Vincent had been blasted and her face fell back into a frown.

  “So he’s dead, then?” One of them asked.

  “I don’t know. He was attacked.” She wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “No matter child. There is still hope.”

  Charlotte cringed when she felt the pass of fur against her ankle and a sharp nip. On instinct she waved her hand at the rat and he burned into a crisp.

  “Well done, child.” One of the dwarves said. “Can you try that near our cells? Rat beats an empty stomach.”

  Charlotte stared at him for a moment before directing the fire at the rats running through the cells until she had crisped one near each dwarf except the one directly to her left. She twisted her head to get a better look at him. It was Barnabas. Her eyes widened, but only for a second. She blinked, and then kicked the rat she had burned in her own cell over to him.

  “You aren’t going to eat?” He asked her. “It’s not so bad when you are starving.”

  She shook her head. Barnabas kept his eyes locked on hers. “Thank you for feeding us. Be brave, small warrior. You are one of us now.” He cleared his throat and sang:

  Young Warrior, new to battle.

  Live with Honor you did before.

  Fight with Honor you do now.

  Die with Honor you will if you must.

  Be strong, Be brave, Be now.

  Young Warrior, we stand with you.

  Always you are with us.

  Always we are with you.

  As one we fight.

  As one we die.

  Young Warrior,

  when the battle is over

  As one we live.

  Charlotte smiled at him briefly, then pulled her magic back into her hands and curled back onto the bench. Where was he? The bond was there, but it was listless. There was hardly any pulse or strength to it. Vincent must be dying. Tears slipped down her face. Was he conscious? She couldn’t let him die with what lay between them. She pushed her magic through the bond, sending him memories as fast as she could. Happy memories. Memories she wasn’t even sure he had anymore.

  She thought of one of her first memories of him at the castle. He had been a quiet boy, and while all the other children had wanted to be Charlotte’s friend because of her father and her home, he had never once approached her in the same manner. She had watched the curious boy who sat under the trees to read while the rest of them kicked a ball around. She remembered a bright day she had found him reading one of his favorite books. She had sat by him quietly, but he still wouldn’t speak to her.

  Frustrated, she turned, sat down on her knees in front of him, and pointed at the book. “Let’s play! I will be your fairy like she was his fairy!”

  “I don’t want a fairy. He was a stupid boy for having one. She caused him nothing but trouble.”

  Charlotte slammed the book shut. “He was a stupid boy, but not because he had a fairy. He was stupid because he didn’t see what was right in front of his face. He didn’t treat his fairy like he should have!” She stood and placed her hands on her hips. “He should have cared for her, but instead he chased after some girl who didn’t really like him!” She kicked the dirt. “And really, he didn’t like the girl enough either!”

  “He couldn’t have the fairy!” He yelled back.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’m not stupid!” He ran from her then and left the book.

  She picked up the book and dusted it off.

  Charlotte left that memory. It wasn’t happy, but it was true. It was that book she had thrown down on his desk later. She sent him recent memories. Memories she found comforting, even though they were a result of a complicated sort of companionship. Live. She begged the bond. Could she send him magic? She pictured her magic and healing and pushed it through the bond. Live! She pushed more of her magic through. Live! She fell against the wall in exhaustion.

  Vincent’s eyes flashed open and he gasped. Air. He needed more air. He tried to move his arm, but it wouldn’t budge. He looked around the room. The bookshelves had collapsed and the air was full of dust. What had happened? He tugged his arm again. He felt the snap and the roar of pain and the freedom all at once. A chocked scream shocked him, and he lurched slightly. He looked to each side, then closed his eyes and panted. The scream had been his. Warmth trickled across his arm. He looked over again. Blood. He would need to stop it soon. He leaned up on his other arm and rolled over onto his stomach. He stretched his legs and groaned. They were damaged. He crawled slowly across the room, stopping to suckle air in as best as he could every time he moved forward. He could hear shouts and footsteps nearby. The floor in front of the doorway was blocked with stone and bricks. “Help!” He tried to shout, but he was only able to manage a weak shout.

  He panted into the floor and his body began to shake. “David.” He whispered. He tugged on the bond. But the bond didn’t connect him to David anymore. He raised his head and the memories shook him. “No!” He screamed louder this time. “Help me!” He yelled. “Somebody help me!”

  Finally, a dwarf, bandaged and covered in dust, stuck his head in the door. “Found another wounded! I need a stretcher immediately!” He yelled back into the hallway. He climbed over the debris and kneeled down by Vincent. “Don’t move. You are badly wounded.”

  “I need to get out of here.” Vincent pushed himself up.

  “Sir, it’s important you stop moving. We’ll transfer you to the infirmary as soon as we can.”

  “You don’t understand.” He coughed and panted. “I have to save—”

  “You are safe.” The dwarf climbed back over the debris. “In here, quickly!”

  Vincent lay back down on the floor and closed his eyes. He tried to focus on the bond, but his head ached and his vision was blurry.

  A couple of dwarves set a stretcher down beside him. He screamed as they moved him. One of the dwarves leaned over. “Sir, this stretcher is a portal. Hang tight.” He saw light and no more.

  25

  A New Reign

  Wilder knocked on his daughter’s bedroom door.

  “Bliss? Your mother and I need to speak with you.”

  She opened her door and stepped out with a grace beyond her years.

  “Father. We should all go to uncle. He should know immediately.”

  Wilder took a step back. He remembered this from long ago.

  His knees felt weak. He dropped his gaze.

  There was no need to speak with her.

  It was already happening.

  Beau paced back and forth in front of the throne room. He had slept, finally, but only under direct orders. Now he waited for orders to be released again. He pushed his anger down. This was no time for red tape and orders and pleasantries. This was time for action. His mother stared at him sympathetically from across the waiting room. She yearned to help him, he knew. His father was still in a hospital bed, and both of his parents were tight lipped. They kept their eyes down around both him and his sister. What secrets were they keeping? It couldn’t be making Bliss happy, but she couldn’t do anything. Not yet, anyway. His uncle was still alive and the coronation had yet to occur. But when
it did? Was his life at stake?

  He crossed to his mother. She tensed, and then patted the seat next to her. “Sit, son.”

  He sat and clenched his hands together on his knees.

  “What is the latest news?”

  “The latest news is that Charlotte and Vincent are dead.” He said, and his voice cracked and he buried his face in his hands. He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t now. He had no reason to keep looking for her when the magical world thought she was dead. But she couldn’t be dead. The woman he had kissed had not been Charlotte. She had to be alive somewhere. She just had to be.

  “You need to mourn.” Wynn smoothed his hair. “You need to go to the castle and be near her things.”

  “I have to have permission.” He spit out the words forcefully.

  “We all have to have permission now.” She said softly. “It is the way now. You knew that when you made your decision.”

  He gripped his own fingers tighter. “I didn’t know I would regret it so quickly.”

  She placed her fingers over his, and leaned in. “Listen to me, son. You need to mourn.”

  He looked up at her and stared into her eyes. She nodded just slightly and continued. “You need to go to the castle and be with her things. Be at your nest, so to speak. You need to mourn your loss.”

  “I do.” He said. His heart calmed. “I need to mourn.”

  “You may need a long time to mourn.” She continued. “You may not be back until the coronation. These things take time, and you aren’t an important piece anymore.”

  “No, I’m not.” He lifted his head. “I’m a small piece, and I can learn my job while I’m down there.”

  Wynn nodded. “Know your place, son. You can find your way within that place.”

  He kissed her on each cheek. “I love you, mother.”

  “We love you, son.”

  “When will I see you again?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

  Wynn raised her eyebrows. “We are to live at the castle permanently as liaisons between our world and the rest of the magical world.”