“The Sidhe have no interest in our affairs,” said Frank. “And not just anyone is allowed into council meetings.”
“Then tell Ivy. Please. I’m not even kidding when I say shit’s about to go down across three realms at once.”
And all of them might be counting on me.
A flash of light enveloped me, and the next thing I knew, I sat in the circle of candles. Morgan and River stood in front of me, though Hazel had disappeared.
“That wasn’t five minutes,” I protested.
“Seven, actually,” said Morgan. “According to your pedantic boyfriend, anyway.”
I glanced at River, who had his arms folded across his chest, one foot resting on the candle.
“All right. If Ivy Lane’s necromancer friend tells her and the council we’re coming, then we’re good.” I climbed out of the circle. My skin was a little cold, but not freezing like last time. Travelling along the spirit lines didn’t drain me the way crossing realms did.
The mausoleum door opened and Hazel walked back in. “I’ve asked the necromancers to help the villagers set up defences in case any more ghosts come back while we’re gone.”
“Good thinking,” I said. “I reckon we’re the more likely targets… though there’s a whole council of magical powerhouses gathering in Edinburgh right now.”
“And we’re joining them,” said Hazel.
We walked through the village via Agnes’s shop. To my surprise, it was open, and didn’t look any worse for wear after the fire. Witch spells could fix anything… except other witch spells. The shelves inside were barer than before, and the faint smell of burning still lingered in the air. Which wasn’t that unusual for a witch establishment, really.
“Hey, Agnes,” I said, spotting her behind the counter.
“I thought you’d be back sooner,” she said.
“Yeah, we got diverted,” I said. “We need to get to Edinburgh. Urgently. There’s a council meeting there and we need to report someone important from Faerie for treachery before people get killed.”
“Come through here.” She beckoned through the curtain at the side of the counter, hidden in shadow. Inside was a spacious room that looked like a cross between a sitting room and a laboratory. Everett occupied one corner, surrounded by herbs and ingredients. From the smell, he was making replacement illusion spells for the ones lost in the fire.
I watched for a moment as the small outline of a dragon materialised over the chalk circle he’d etched on the floor, flew in a circle, then disappeared into the illusion charm lying in the centre. Everett caught my eye and grinned. He didn’t have his wife’s overwhelming personality and it was easy to forget that most of the dangerous and useful spells we used were hand-crafted by him.
“You all look terrible,” Agnes commented. “How long did the faeries keep you for?”
“Believe it or not, it was only a day.” I climbed over boxes of ingredients to the seating area, and told her a summary of our recent events. I didn’t know what shocked her more, the Seelie Queen’s treachery or the Winter Gatekeeper sticking around after death. Mostly because she didn’t react to either of those revelations with anything other than her usual calm detachment. I wished I could bring her to Faerie. Her aura of absolute calm and confidence would be a blessed contrast to the Sidhe’s ridiculous dramatics.
“I can’t find Graves,” I said. “He wouldn’t be able to stop the Winter Gatekeeper even if he was still alive, and if she could get through the gates, she would have already. She’s just hanging there.”
Agnes nodded. “You’re right. It’d take a vast amount of power to bring her back.”
“I don’t get this,” I said. “Is the Seelie Queen working with her? I guess they could theoretically communicate through the Grey Vale, and the Queen can walk into this realm if she wanted to. But I don’t see why she’d want to. Undermining her own Court isn’t wise.”
“Mum doesn’t have anything on her,” added Hazel. “Tons of speculation on the Erlking, not so much on his wife. Pretty sure she isn’t even his first wife. No idea whether they have children… apparently they don’t do family trees there. Guess because nobody dies, they don’t see the need to keep a record of who’s related to whom. But it’s a pain, because we have nothing to go by. If we could speak to the Erlking himself… but none of this explains how our family wound up tied to them. It’s not her who’s in control of the curse.”
“The Erlking?” I asked. “No… all the stories say Thomas Lynn met a faerie queen, right?”
“You know stories,” said Hazel. “If even our family doesn’t know the full truth, nobody else will.”
Agnes turned to me. “You said you’d come to a conclusion about that book?”
“Yeah, you might say that. Its magic isn’t Sidhe, but from one of their exiled gods. The Ancients. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of them? Even Mum didn’t mention them.”
Agnes went very still. “Who told you this? The Ancients’ magic shouldn’t exist in its original form.”
“You met one?” said Morgan.
“I’m not that old, you ingrate,” she said to Morgan. “There are stories of Ancients visiting this realm at least as old as the Sidhe, if not older. I’d be more inclined to think of the Ancients as the Sidhe’s powerful predecessors rather than gods in the omnipotent sense.”
“Obviously they’re not all-powerful if they got kicked out and exiled,” said Hazel. “Why did Mum not tell me this? For that matter, how do you know?”
“Over the years, I’ve met a great many people whose magical talents fall outside of the usual boundaries,” said Agnes. “This village was one of many places of safety for supernaturals in the old world, but some were intended as places to hide from each other as much as from humans. They say the gods were shapeshifters with immense power, including an unconventional relationship with the divides between realms.”
My mouth dropped open. “Does that mean they might still be out there somewhere?”
In the Vale? Or—between the Vale and earth, or the liminal spaces? Anything was possible.
“You’re saying our family dealt directly with one of these gods?” Hazel asked.
Agnes shook her head. “By all accounts, the gods are dead. But their magic lives on.”
“Because the Sidhe didn’t just kill their gods,” I said. “They stole their power.”
“Precisely.”
Chills raced down my back. Maybe that wasn’t all they’d stolen. Ivy’s voice replayed in my head: a cauldron full of blood. Whose blood? Perhaps the Sidhe had manufactured their own immortality, and they’d stolen from the gods to do so. And the power of one of those gods rested in my hands.
“So—I’m supposed to use the book against the enemy? Banishing the Winter Gatekeeper didn’t work the first time. And I don’t know if I can even use it on the Sidhe. But I can use it in their realm, even in the Vale.”
“It nearly killed her,” River said to Agnes. “The book’s power… is there any way for Ilsa to protect herself? It’s more powerful than a human.”
“Most of us with power struggle to find that balance,” she said. “I could erase all the memories of every person in this room, at a great cost. I’ve lost friends over it… people who claimed to want their memories erased but didn’t understand what they were really asking for. It’s a personal choice, and unfortunately not one I can help with.”
I thought not.
“Why tell her?” said Morgan, jerking his head at Agnes. “She might be an enemy, right?”
“No, she isn’t,” I said. “Also, unlike someone, she won’t stride into Faerie and get into a fight.”
“I’m tempted to,” Agnes muttered. “Of all the skills I could have had, I was always glad to have one which did not drag me into a position of diplomatic conflict. My sister got involved in supernatural disputes and paid dearly for it. But staying here hasn’t done me any favours. The village, however, needs protection in any form I can give it. If you want to reac
h Edinburgh before the meeting, I’d suggest leaving now.”
“Leaving where?” said Morgan, looking around the room.
“Here.” Everett indicated a mirror of clear glass, which didn’t bear so much as a scorch mark from the fire. If anything it looked brighter than most mirrors did, as though sunlight was trapped inside it.
“What’s that?” I asked, getting to my feet.
“A very rare transportation device,” Agnes said. “There are two. The second is in Edinburgh, in the mages’ headquarters. I must ask you to tell nobody else about this mirror. I’m looking after it for a friend of mine, and she won’t be happy if anything happens to it.”
I walked up to the mirror, examining its shimmering surface. My own reflection stared back, my forehead still glowing. Damn. Lucky I hadn’t seen anyone else on the way here.
Morgan looked sceptically at the mirror. “So we just dive through?”
“If you want to land on your face, yes,” said Agnes. “Most of our spells were damaged in the fire, but you might find these helpful.” She held out a handful of bracelets, and a familiar pendant.
“Illusion,” I said. “Er, why not tell me my forehead was glowing?”
“Honestly?” said Agnes, looking me in the eyes. “You’re more yourself with that mark, if it makes sense.”
I guessed it did. Kind of. “Thanks,” I said, taking the spells and passing them to the others. “And for all your help. Good allies are in short supply lately.”
“That they are. Best of luck to all of you.”
Everett beckoned to the mirror, and Morgan put one foot through, wobbled, then disappeared into the shiny surface.
“Whoa,” Hazel said. “You’re full of no end of surprises, Agnes.”
She jumped through after him, leaving River and me behind.
“Thanks,” I said to Agnes and Everett. “So… I don’t know if we’ll be coming back this way, but if you need our help, let us know.”
The mirror’s surface shimmered. River and I stepped through, emerging in a long corridor. A gargoyle statue sat at the far end. Otherwise, nobody was around. The corridor was panelled in dark wood with deep blue carpets, but unlike the necromancers’ place, it seemed to at least have central heating.
There was a coughing noise from behind us. Had the gargoyle statue moved? It seemed to be pointing down a corridor on our left, which led to a staircase.
Nodding to River, I went to meet the Council of Twelve.
16
“Wish I’d dressed up for the occasion,” Hazel whispered as we walked downstairs. “If I could scrape together enough magic to make the four of us not look like we wandered in here by accident…”
“You have the circlet,” I said. “I have the glowing forehead. River and Morgan…”
“We’re not supposed to be here,” Morgan said. “Lucky I don’t give a crap, and River walks around like he owns the place anyway.”
River blinked. “I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do,” said Hazel. “Might work in our favour now.”
“I was kind of hoping to go to the necromancer guild first,” I said. “Since they actually know us.”
“I’m expecting Lady Montgomery to be invited to the meeting,” said River. “If it involves all the local head supernaturals, they’d invite her. This is the mages’ headquarters.”
That’d explain the elaborately carved banisters and expensive-looking carpets. We descended the stairs into a spacious entrance hall dominated by a large crystal chandelier.
“Fancy,” said Morgan. “Where’s this meeting?”
“This way,” whispered a voice.
I jumped. A young woman with black hair cut fairly short and a lip piercing that I was surprised passed the necromancers’ regulations winked at me. “Thought I’d catch you sneaking in.”
“Technically I’m invited,” I said.
“And your family?” asked Jas, necromancer apprentice and one of the people I’d first met after signing up at the guild.
“Touché. What are you doing lurking outside?” She wore her necromancer cloak, which technically fitted a formal event like this, but I wouldn’t have thought a novice would be permitted entry to a top secret council meeting, even Lady Montgomery’s assistant.
“I’m not allowed in, but Lady Montgomery asked me to come along and translate her meeting notes into legible English when it’s over. Fun.” Her words sounded plausible, but they way she lurked out of sight of the door made me suspect there was something she wasn’t telling me. Still, the door at the hall’s side, half-open, revealed a large meeting room filled with chairs. Voices drifted from within, and I moved closer. I spotted several ghosts, one of whom I recognised as Frank ‘Lord Sydney’ the necromancer, in conversation with a younger but equally dead man I didn’t know.
In the chairs, groups of witches, shifters and mages sat in distinct groups. There didn’t seem to be a seating plan or dress code. The mages were dressed like they were attending a fancy societal function, the witches wore bright outfits more suited to an outdoor party, while the shifters wore torn, muddy clothes as though they’d come from a brawl. Some of them were bleeding. At least we didn’t look that unusual in our slightly battered clothing, though River attracted several stares as we walked in. Maybe they thought we were the faerie division, since I hadn’t seen any half-faeries yet.
A tall man in a dark suit stood apart from the others, looking over everyone who entered the room. He had striking grey eyes and neatly combed dark hair. Human, but something dangerous shimmered in his eyes and stirred the air when we got close to him, like a brewing thunderstorm. Mage Lord, definitely.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said to Hazel. He spoke in an upper-class English accent, his gaze travelling from Morgan’s scuffed shoes to River’s talisman sword.
“I’m Hazel Lynn. Summer Gatekeeper’s heir.”
“I was told to expect you,” said the mage. “Mage Lord Colton. I’ve tried on a number of occasions to get hold of your mother.”
“She’s usually busy in Faerie,” said Hazel. “You’re the founder of the council, right?”
“Yes, I am. Ivy told me about you.” His gaze slid to me. “You’re Ilsa Lynn, correct?”
Now the mages all knew who I was? “Yeah, I’m Ilsa.” What had Ivy actually said about me? The book wouldn’t have allowed her to tell anyone about my magic, which would make explaining how we’d met kind of tricky. “This is Morgan, our brother,” I added. I was pretty sure bringing random relatives along to an important meeting wasn’t traditional, but the Mage Lord nodded to both of us as though we hadn’t barged in on the council’s gathering without an invitation. Had Ivy told him we’d all be coming?
The Mage Lord’s attention focused on River. “And you are?”
“My name is River,” he said. “River Montgomery. I’m a senior member of Edinburgh’s necromancer guild. My mother runs the necromancer council.”
The door opened behind us, and Ivy walked in. She wore ripped jeans and a leather jacket, and her talisman was sheathed out of sight. Despite her clear human appearance, whispers followed her, a ripple of alertness travelling through the seated supernaturals. I envied her easy confidence walking amongst a group of people with enough power to break a hole in the universe, but anyone would be confident if they had as much magic hidden away as she did.
The Mage Lord’s expression softened a little as he looked at her. “These are the people I was told to expect?”
“Yeah, that’s Ilsa,” said Ivy. “You know nobody can get in here without passing those wards they got from the necromancer guild.”
Oh. He must be the fiancé who wasn’t pleased with Ivy’s hobby of travelling around the Ley Line as a ghost. Maybe I should send him and River off to talk about the metaphysical risks of necromancy.
“Yes, but it wouldn’t surprise me if someone decided to target the meeting,” said Lord Colton. The hint of a threat in his voice suggested whoever did so would be very unw
ise.
“Just don’t break up any more shifter brawls,” Ivy said, her hand brushing against his as she walked past.
“Is that why they’re all covered in mud?” asked Hazel, moving after her towards the seats.
“They refused our generous offer of cleansing spells,” said Ivy, taking a seat in the back row. “They’ve been on edge ever since we got here. Suppose they’re justified in being a little pissed off considering Drake nearly drove them into the sea on the long drive up from England…” She shook her head. “I don’t need to bore you talking about what a week it’s been. Sounds like you’ve had a tough one of your own.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” I said, pulling out the seat next to her.
River leaned closer to me. “Ilsa, you talk to her. I’m going to speak with Lady Montgomery and the mage council, to bring them up to speed on recent events. Not all of it. Just the…”
“Public story?” I said wryly. I still didn’t know if I planned to tell everyone about the Seelie Queen’s treachery, or if it was a better idea to keep that information quiet until we knew for sure what to do about it. The last thing I wanted to do was wreck the council’s hard-won peace with Faerie.
He moved swiftly away, while the rest of us took seats at the back. Ivy cast a look across the others. “I didn’t know you were bringing… your family?”
“I’m Hazel Lynn,” said Hazel. “The Summer Gatekeeper’s heir. That’s our brother, Morgan.”
“I’m very important,” Morgan said. “I’m a necromancer and psychic sensitive.”
“Cool,” Ivy said. “I’m your distant relation, apparently. All of you.”
“Really?” said Morgan. “Don’t you get the Lynn curse?”
“Curse?” Ivy blinked. “I’m not bound to serve Faerie, if that’s what you mean. Frankly I think they want to get rid of me, since I pretty much forced them to join the council.”
“You did?” asked Hazel.
“Yes. I’m trying to do this differently to the mages’ traditional approach of asking the most influential people rather than the people who are actually best suited for the job, but they’re set in their ways. Shifters pick their representatives by right of combat. Mages try to assassinate one another, while it’s difficult to get necromancers to volunteer anyone who’s actually alive. The witches are the only supernaturals who actually stick to the original rulebook and vote on a leader in a way that doesn’t usually involve anyone dying. But you can see how it gets dicey when you bring the Sidhe into it. They’ve been stuck in limbo for a thousand years or more, and they don’t want to be ordered around by humans.”
The Gatekeeper's Curse- The Complete Trilogy Page 58