Mad Magic

by Nicole Conway

  “Keeping watch?”

  He nodded slightly. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “I can’t,” I said with a shrug. “I really messed up today.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “I used one of the spells I was saving for Fir Darrig,” I confessed. “Now he’ll be expecting it. He’ll be prepared. And I don’t have time to come up with something new.”

  Eldrick didn’t answer, and I was too humiliated to meet his gaze again.

  “This is impossible, isn’t it? To think that we can beat Fir Darrig?” I asked. I knew he would tell me the truth about what he thought. Eldrick wasn’t cruel, but he was brutally honest.

  He let out a slow, deep sigh and turned his face back toward the window. “That depends on what your true intentions are. If you intend merely to save Zeph’s life, then that is easily done by keeping to your original plan. Whether or not we will be able to summon the Fibbing Gate and force Fir Darrig through it … has been questionable from the beginning.”

  That certainly didn’t make me feel any better.

  I sank back in my seat, thinking about my brief interaction with Fir Darrig again. He hadn’t been quite what I was expecting. He had been so disarming at first. Now all he wanted from me was my power and to be named king of all the faeries. I didn’t want to give him either of those things, but if my plan failed, I might not have a choice. There wouldn’t be anything my companions could do to help me. Fir Darrig was ancient and powerful, and I was just a puny human girl. What chance did I stand?

  “Stop that,” Eldrick growled suddenly.

  I looked up, surprised to find him glowering at me again.

  “Now is not the time to be doubting yourself. I can see it in your eyes. We have come this far because we all believe as you do. It is true, no one has ever successfully stood against Fir Darrig.” He glanced away, back out the window. “But then again, we don’t know that a human has ever tried. Let alone a human vessel.”

  “What can a human do that a faerie can’t?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Apparently, some of you are far better at denying your base instincts than I originally suspected.”

  I smiled. “Oh? Is that your way of saying you might be wrong about all humans being so terrible?”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” He flashed me a look. “There is another instinctual trait that all faeries share besides our desire to be close to mankind. Tomorrow night, we will exploit this trait as his greatest weakness.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “And what is that?”

  Eldrick smirked and sat up a bit straighter. “Pride.”

  His words gave me something to consider as I sat in the booth with him. Together, we watched the sun rise over the city while I went over my plan again and again, wondering if it would work. Eldrick was right—I couldn’t let myself crumble under all my doubts. I’d come this far, learning so much in such a short amount of time.

  This had to work—it would work.

  Freddy and Camilla arrived just a few hours after daylight. Hank broke down the protective wards long enough to let them both inside.

  Zeph staggered bleary-eyed out of the back room. He was dressed, at least, wearing jeans and an undershirt. He looked at me curiously with a groggy frown, like he was wondering why I hadn’t been in bed with him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be close—I did. That’s the whole reason I was still awake. I wanted to make sure we stayed close. Just the thought of it made my heart skip a beat and my face feel warm.

  Freddy came into the bar armed with several bags of supplies … including a few from a local bakery that smelled divine. As soon as he sat everything down on the bar top, Zeph made a beeline straight for the food. He snatched up a box filled with fresh pastries and started inhaling them.

  I was hungry, too, but I couldn’t think about food just yet. Still sitting at the booth with Eldrick, I had all my papers spread out before me. He’d been keen enough to pack those, as well, so I could continue to practice up until the very last moment. I kept my eyes fixed on my work, perfecting my spell designs. I didn’t stop practicing until Camilla strolled over and draped an arm over my shoulder. She hugged me tightly and planted a motherly kiss on my temple.

  “How is it going?” she asked as she peered down at my papers.

  “I wish we could do a trial run, but I know there isn’t time for that.” I sighed and slumped against the table, resting all my weight on my elbows.

  “Here, these might help.” Camilla smiled wistfully and sat a small, black velvet purse in front of me.

  I opened the soft fabric and poured the contents into my hand. Four pieces of black staurolite landed in my palm. Each one was about the size of a silver dollar and shaped like a perfectly formed cross. I handled the crystals carefully, lining them up on the table side-by-side. These were the last missing pieces to my spellwork to summon the Fibbing Gate. I needed them—all four of them—for it to work.

  “We can’t wait to hear the details of your plan,” Camilla added as she picked up a few pieces of paper where I had been practicing the spell circles. She began looking them over like she was critiquing them. “My, you do have a knack for this!”

  “Of course she does,” Freddy said. He came over with a big, friendly grin on his face. “Both her parents did. It’s only natural that she be a talented spellworker, too.”

  Camilla shot him a punishing look. “Calling Marissa Barton merely a spellworker hardly does her justice.”

  Freddy got pink around the ears like a child who’d been scolded. “I suppose you’re right. She was a force to be reckoned with by humans and faeries alike. And, it seems her young daughter is already following in her footsteps.”

  “I-I don’t remember anything about my mom,” I reminded them. “She died when I was a baby. My dad never liked to talk about it. I think it was too painful for him.”

  Camilla grasped my shoulders, radiating an enchanting smile. “Your mother and I were the very best of friends. She rescued me, and I will be eternally grateful for her compassion. She was the bravest human I’ve ever known, and lovely as a star.”

  In every picture I had ever seen of my mom, she had looked elegant, beautiful, but fragile. Her porcelain skin seemed to shine in every photograph and her long red hair looked like mine. She had been petite, like me, and willowy. However, I didn’t know much about her personal life—where she’d come from or who her friends had been.

  “Am I really like her?” I heard myself ask quietly.

  “In more ways than you realize,” Camilla spoke quietly. “Your mother always expressed a great conviction that justice be upheld in the faerie world—justice in situations that have always been carefully overlooked by both Seelie and Unseelie.” She moved to the bag of supplies Freddy had brought in. “Her passion for protecting the people she loved and learning about our culture was a breath of fresh air. It’s not often humans take so much interest in our world anymore. Your mother acted as sort of a liaison, and sometimes … even a vigilante. She was a truly unique and wonderful person.”

  Everyone gathered in closer to listen. Even Zeph was no longer stuffing his face with pastries. He stood behind me, taking up a position like a bodyguard with his arms crossed.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of faerie tales. Most humans have. Those stories have been made into myths and legends. They tell of magic, curses, kings, and princesses. They happen in beautiful kingdoms and faraway places.” Camilla’s voice was hushed as she opened her bag, taking out two large bundles of dark red velvet cloth. She sat them on the table, and gestured for me to open them. “But every story, even faerie tales, have a bit of truth to them. Your mother understood that better than most.”

  I swallowed. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was in those bundles, but something struck my memory—something Fir Darrig had said to me the night before.

  “Vessels always come from royal bloodlines,
” I remembered aloud. Realization hit me like a punch to the gut. Turning slowly, I looked back up at Zeph.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s right, princess.”

  My jaw went slack. He … had called me that from the first time we’d met. I’d just assumed it was a silly nickname.

  Camilla was smiling, too. “Such knowledge is usually kept secret to protect the families who might bring forth the next vessel in later generations. As the world moved into the modern age, many countries have turned their back on the monarchies of old. Kings and queens have been forgotten, or reduced to nothing but mere celebrity figureheads.”

  “Or high school students with fluffy red hair.” Zeph chuckled.

  I elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Princesses and princes have been lost to the pages of history, no longer needed in a human world where magic has no place. However, some royal families still remember the precious gift that might come from their bloodlines,” Camilla continued. “Your mother’s family remembered, and she had been prepared to stand against the dangers and the rampant injustice that now casts a dark shadow over the faerie world. She was fearless and bold, but honest and gentle; a true princess. She entrusted me with these things with the promise that I would pass them on to you.”

  I unwrapped the first bundle and drew out a slender dagger about eight inches long. The long blade was made of a dark, heavy metal while the hilt shimmered like gold. The sheath for the dagger was wrapped separately and much lighter compared to the blade itself. Its golden surface was engraved with the image of a medieval lion and numerous swirling rings of spellwork. Some of the characters had almost been completely rubbed away, but I could still make out the design of a containing enchantment.

  “Your mother used it to protect herself. Perhaps you can, too,” Camilla suggested. “The sheath is spelled so that faeries can’t sense the presence of the iron blade. A secret weapon, if you will.”

  Putting the dagger aside, I took the second, much smaller bundle from her. As I pulled back the velvet, I caught another glimmer of gold. It was a beautiful little jewelry box covered in intricate engravings of archaic designs, swirls, and a heart with a crown over it. Just the sight of it took my breath away.

  My heart raced as I opened it. My chest tingled and my breath caught at the sight of a large, heart-shaped ruby resting on a green velvet cushion. I brushed my fingertips over the pendant, noticing the strange coloration in the center of it. It looked almost like a white star.

  The instant I saw it, I got a wave of déjà vu. I knew I had seen this necklace before.

  “Your mother told me this is the last of her family’s jewels. She wanted me to give it to you when you …” Camilla’s voice trailed away as she watched me digging through my papers. I guess she realized I wasn’t listening anymore.

  I had seen that necklace before, and now I remembered where. Pulling out the book page with the drawing of the Fibbing Gate and Fir Darrig on it, I spread it out next to the necklace. The woman in the picture who was holding Fir Darrig’s hand was wearing a necklace—and it looked like the exact same one.

  I pointed to the picture. “Who is this woman? Why is she in this picture?”

  Everyone leaned in closer to get a better look.

  “This was drawn many centuries ago, Josie,” Eldrick growled in reminder. “Her name has been stricken out, sealed along with the rest of the text. It can’t be read. You know that.”

  “But if I were gonna guess,” Zeph interrupted as he leaned over me to see the picture. “I’d say it is the princess who caused Fir Darrig to turn against everyone.”

  My palms started sweating. This couldn’t just be a coincidence. “Look at her necklace. It’s the same, isn’t it? Is it … is it possible that the princess is a distant relative of mine?”

  “It would have to be very distant. Your mother never mentioned anything like that, but perhaps she didn’t know. It might just be a coincidence.” Camilla picked up the necklace carefully and ran her fingers over the intricate design. “There is something odd about it, isn’t there? Almost as though it has an aura all its own. It must have had great significance to your family to have survived this long.”

  “Not to mention it being depicted in a drawing this old,” Freddy agreed.

  The mystery of this princess, and what had happened between her and Fir Darrig was growing more and more bizarre. I’d already figured out that she had been a vessel, too. And I’d also learned that the spark that had ignited all of Fir Darrig’s wrath had been the moment when she didn’t choose him to be the faerie king.

  Now to think that same princess was somehow related to my family only made it even more troubling, but it also sparked a curious suspicion in my already frazzled brain: there might be another chink in Fir Darrig’s armor.

  Camilla passed the necklace to me, and I cradled it gently in my hands. It was a rich-looking piece that sparkled beautifully in the light, and the color of the red stone was as deep and vibrant as blood. When I turned it over, I realized there were dozens of teeny little spell circles and symbols engraved onto the back of the stone. They were so small you’d need a magnifying glass just to see them. I’d have to look into it later, but for now … this was the first real piece of my mom’s belongings I’d ever had. Somehow, it made me feel closer to her. No one said a word as I put it around my neck, letting the heavy pendant fall against my chest.

  “It suits you.” Eldrick was looking at me strangely.

  I tried to smile, but I couldn’t.

  “Wait—wait a second!” Zeph interrupted the moment, pushing past everyone and disappearing into the back of the bar at a jog.

  When he came back, he was holding the old envelope that contained my dad’s letter and all the old photographs. He flipped through the pictures, finally holding out the one of my parents when my mom was pregnant with me.

  Suddenly, I saw it, too. My mom was wearing the necklace in the picture—the exact same one I was wearing now.

  I closed my hand around the pendant. It was like touching her, somehow holding her hand across all the time and space that separated us. Camilla was right, there was something odd about it, though. Just having it against my chest, touching my bare skin, made my skin prickle. It was as though some invisible presence were there with me—something I couldn’t see, touch, or even explain.

  “Time to get down to business?” Freddy suggested, jarring my thoughts. He was looking at the stacks of papers on the table where I had been practicing my spells over and over.

  We’d been keeping things very brief in our text messages and phone calls. None of us were willing to take the chance that Fir Darrig might overhear our plans. So now, in the safety of Hank’s bar, we all settled around the table to talk things through.

  First, I had something to own up to. “Last night Fir Darrig approached me at the prom. He said he just wanted to ask me a question.”

  Zeph sat right next to me with one of his arms draped along the back of the seat. He sat up straighter, scowling when he realized I had been holding out on him. “What question?”

  I told them about my dance with him, about how he’d come introduce himself, and to ask me about whom I was going to choose to be the faerie king. I couldn’t meet Zeph’s glare as I repeated the conversation—even the parts where I insisted I wasn’t going to pick him to be the king. My stomach did nervous backflips, wondering if he would respond with the same rage Fir Darrig had when he wasn’t picked.

  “Shit.” Zeph let out a huge sigh and slumped back in the seat some. “Thank the stars for that. I was hoping you wouldn’t do that to me.”

  I blinked in surprise. “You’re not upset?”

  Zeph smirked. “Do you honestly think I’d want to be in charge of anything like that? Hell no. Pick someone else.”

  All the worry about that potentially catastrophic argument drained out of my body immediately. It left me even more tired than before, and I leaned against
him while I let it sink in.

  I went on to tell them about what I suspected when it came to Fir Darrig and the princess. All the time, the necklace felt somehow heavier around my neck—like a ball and chain, connecting me to whatever tragedy had come between them.

  “The point is I ruined a key element to my plan,” I admitted. “The only way to break Zeph’s curse is for him to take me to Fir Darrig, as the curse demands. After he hands me over, and the curse is broken, I need a distraction. I need some way to get away from Fir Darrig so he can’t use me as a hostage or keep me from opening the Fibbing Gate. I was going to use the same spell I did on the masks, but now he’ll be expecting that.”

  “Only the king or queen of the faeries can even summon the gate,” Zeph interjected. “So she’ll have to make that choice before it can even be opened.”

  All eyes were on me, and though no one said it out loud … I knew they were all wondering the same thing: who was I going to pick? Most of the faeries I knew were already sitting in the room with me.

  I stared at my mom’s dagger sitting on the table. I was determined not to reveal my choice until I was absolutely sure. “There’s something else, though,” I said in hopes of changing the subject. “Fir Darrig obviously has more than one spriggan at his disposal. He probably won’t come alone once we arrange the rendezvous. We might be outnumbered.”

  “I believe we can count on it,” Eldrick sounded certain. “Making spriggans isn’t a difficult task for a sidhe of his caliber. Not to mention he has been actively recruiting from within the Unseelie community.”

  I sank lower in my seat. One spriggan was almost more than we could handle. How on earth were we going to take on more than that?

  “Quit looking so depressed. It’s bumming me out. I’ll be back in the ring for real, this time.” Zeph puffed out his chest proudly as he reached over and messed up my hair. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that not even Fir Darrig knows about.”

  “A lot of good that did you last time,” Hank muttered.

  Zeph deflated. You could practically hear it, like someone letting the air out of a party balloon.