‘It’s a witch,’ my dad said, pointing to the magic that was leaving her body and dissipating in the air. Once again, there was golden magic, with some red and green telekinetic energy mixed in.
I moved closer, trying to get a better look at her. She was wearing a hat and sunglasses, and the collar of her coat was pulled up around her face. All that I could really see was long, honey-blonde hair. I frowned. It had been honey-blonde hair, but before my eyes, it was changing to brown.
‘She’s changing,’ I said, my voice heavy with fear, as her young-looking body soon became shorter, older and rounder. ‘Dad, we’d better call the Wayfarers.’
5. Blood Magic, Elemental Magic
Half an hour later, I left Night and Gale. Just as my dad thought, Claire wouldn’t wake up for quite some time. But she was recovering nicely, according to Florence. The same could not be said about the witch we found in the alley.
Right now, her body was in the Wayfarer morgue, and I desperately wanted to join Dylan there. Tempting though it was, it would have to wait. A dead body would stay dead, but my grandmother would not take kindly to my being late for our lesson.
These days I could travel to and from the faery enclaves without having to journey to any of the soft places to do so. It was a strange sensation, not quite as easy as clicking my fingers the way I did when travelling as a witch. Other sióga had their own ways, ways I would develop over time, but for now, I needed to mentally sing a tune at the area to which I wanted to travel.
My grandmother called it the Travellers’ Tune, and apparently some sióga children knew how to do it before they could walk. When my grandmother sounded the notes, they were beautiful and ethereal, almost like whale song. When I sounded the notes … well, I sounded like the croakiest, most talentless whale in the ocean.
I could sing the tune aloud, but that would hardly be fair on anyone nearby, so (with a great deal of difficulty) I’d learned to keep the singing in my mind, with only the odd discordant hum escaping from time to time.
When I arrived at my grandmother’s house, Fuzz was already there. Don’t bother asking me how my familiar managed to travel to the faery realm, because he certainly wasn’t about to tell me.
‘You’re three minutes late,’ he said, stretching out on my grandmother’s lap. ‘But it’s all right. Úna fed and milked me.’ He sniggered to himself. ‘By that I mean she gave me some milk, rather than turned me into a dairy cat.’
While he spoke, my grandmother just smiled enigmatically. No doubt she knew how Fuzz got in here, but she was just as secretive as him. ‘What do you think?’ she asked after a few seconds, depositing Fuzz in a bed by the fire and walking to the window, looking out at our latest training ground.
Technically it was the same training ground as always, but while the location remained the same – my grandmother’s back garden – the scenery changed from lesson to lesson. Today her garden had become a forest, with a huge frozen lake at its centre.
When someone managed an amazing feat of magic every time you saw them, it could get a little bit exhausting, what with having to be impressed each and every time. But I made the right noises and donned some awed facial expressions nonetheless. If I didn’t, my grandmother was prone to becoming a little sulky. She was as bad as Dylan and his coffee. He continually wanted to be told that his blends were the best I’d ever tasted.
Although it was snowing in the forest, and the lake was covered in ice, my grandmother was barefoot, wearing one of her usual light white dresses. There was a crown of hawthorn berries in her hair, and I couldn’t help but wonder how the thorns didn’t hurt her.
‘Because,’ she said, pushing open the sliding door and heading outside, ‘I control the thorns. I control all hawthorn trees, everywhere.’
‘I didn’t ask that question out loud,’ I replied, following her into the forest.
‘I’m not a vampire, Aisling. I don’t read minds. Well … rarely. I could just tell by the scrunched up expression on your face that you were curious about it.’ She turned to look at me. ‘But let’s forget about mindreading and controlling nature, just for a moment. I need to speak with you about everything else that’s happening. I’m a tad worried about this whole Vlad’s Boys thing, I must admit. My spies tell me they’ve been sighted just outside some of the old doors into this realm.’
‘They have,’ I admitted. ‘At the Crossroads and the Hill of Tara. With what looked like dowsing rods, apparently.’
‘Ah.’ She nodded. ‘They’ll be looking for a way in, then.’ She sat down on a log, passing a mug of hot chocolate my way. She didn’t have the mug when I arrived, but delicious drinks that appeared from nowhere were just one of the benefits of having the Queen of the Sióga for a granny.
‘All along we believed that Vlad’s Boys were vampires,’ she said. ‘And that their aim was to kill dayturners – which was bad enough. But now it seems this was some half-witted creation of Ron Montague’s, from back when he was having an affair with a schoolteacher? Vampires and witches are working together in order to become a more powerful force. Have I got that right?’
I slumped down next to her on a snow-covered log, taking a grateful sip of my hot drink. She had told me to wear warm clothing, and now I knew why.
‘It’s weird, I know,’ I said. ‘Everything that happens in the witch-run enclaves is weird. Witches only let vampires and werewolves into the government a few decades ago. They only let all the other supernaturals have a say last year. And from what I can tell, most of the rich and powerful witches still hate vampires. My grandfather certainly does. So this whole Vlad’s Boys thing, well … it’s strange to me. I just don’t buy the idea that either Darina Berry or Bella Foyle would really want to work side by side with vampires.’
‘Neither do I,’ my granny agreed. ‘Both are the kind of women who only make alliances with those who are of use to them. I don’t see this going well for the vampires – even if Bella Foyle does believe she’s in love with Ron Montague. Ron might have been an unstoppable force when he was Ronaldo the Righteous, but he was a one of a kind. Witches in general are more powerful than vampires, there’s no two ways about it. Maybe they need the vampires in order to access this power source they’re drawing from.’
She held out her palm, in which a marshmallow had just appeared, and tossed it into my drink. ‘And on that note, I’ve been thinking about the magic you and your father described to me. The magic they used at the wedding the other day. There can be red in Púca magic, along with the orange. A little bit of yellow and black as well.’
‘I saw that when I looked at a half-Púca’s magic last Halloween,’ I said. ‘But this is a very different red. And the magic itself … it’s shaped differently. This isn’t Púca magic.’
My grandmother sighed. ‘Yes, your dad said it was different, too, but I didn’t want to rule anything out just yet. He described the cells of the magic as concaved, and a rather different shade of red to anything he’s used to seeing.’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘The cells were more like discs than the hexagonal shape of most magic. And the symbols that make up the magic are odd, too. Lopsided crosses is about the only way I can describe them. The same symbol repeating over and over.’
‘Ah. Well if that’s the case, then the only thing I can think of that would be even remotely similar would be blood magic. It’s a magic you don’t often see these days, based on sacrifice. Some witches use it to gain more power. But even that’s not quite a match for what you describe. There would usually be a lot more green, dark magic mixed in if that were the case.’
She plucked off her crown and spun it in her hands. ‘Although … vampires have been known to tinker with blood magic from time to time. The sacrificial nature appeals to them. Of course, they’d need the help of a witch or a wizard – or some mastery of wizardry, at least, to carry it out.’
‘But Dad couldn’t break through this magic when they used it to lock everyone in at the Fisherman’s Friend
last week. And he couldn’t fix the electricity in town, either, because they’d used this magic to put it out. So is blood magic something we can’t fight?’
‘No, actually,’ she conceded. ‘Which is another reason I’m unwilling to call it that. We can break blood magic. But … perhaps this is derived from a stronger source. A particularly powerful sacrifice. What’s really worrying me is what they’re going to do with it. Judging by the way they behaved last week, and the fact that they’re sneaking around the old doors into this world, I’m terrified that they might be coming after us.’
‘That’s what I was afraid of myself,’ I admitted. ‘But I mean, they can’t actually get in here, can they? No matter how many dowsing rods or whatever they use. All of your doors are firmly closed.’ I set my cup aside and grasped her hand. ‘And even if they can, you and the rest of the fae are the most powerful beings on the planet. You can fight them. Can’t you?’
She looked troubled. ‘Ever since Arnold Albright trapped me in here for thirty years, I’ve stopped considering myself invincible. And that is why we must be prepared for everything they throw our way. So we need to stand up and get on with this lesson. I think these people are using some variation of blood magic, so you and I will learn something even more powerful. Elemental magic. Today, Aisling, you shall be communing with nature.’
≈
When she said communing, she really meant it. I had to sing to the lake in order to melt the ice. I had to sing to it once more to freeze it over again. I sang to flowers, bringing them into bud despite the wintery chill.
It was the most wonderful sort of magic. I wasn’t drawing from anything inside of myself. I was drawing on the earth itself. After an hour or so I felt far less exhausted than I normally would at this point in a lesson.
‘Now,’ she said, walking to one of the hawthorn trees. ‘I want you to bring this back into leaf. Find the energy in the soil. Bring it out of dormancy. Tease some warmth from the sun. You can do it.’
I gave her a somewhat slack-jawed stare. The flowers had been one thing, but a whole tree? And as for what she wanted me to draw on, well that was too immense to get my head around. ‘You want me to tease the sun?’
‘Temporarily. I’ll help you restore balance as soon as we’re done. Here.’ She placed one hand on my lower stomach, the other on my chest. ‘Feel it, here.’ She tapped the crown of my head, and the centre of my forehead. ‘And then bring it to here, for control. I’ll direct the sun’s energy into you, first, so you can get a feel for it.’
As her hands moved over me, I felt the power of the sun course into me, at first hitting me like a blazing brick that I thought might burn me to my core. But as she directed it, slowed it, controlled it … I felt more alive than ever.
I repeated the method alone, then focused on the tree, feeling the roots in the ground, feeling the sun grow warmer inside me before I directed it towards the hawthorn, feeling moisture and heat in the air instead of frost. For a while, I felt like I was the tree, and my terrible singing and humming seemed to be the humming of life itself. As the sap rose, I felt it rise in me, too. I felt the leaves, the flowers, and next, the berries.
A hand came to my shoulder. ‘Better than I could have hoped,’ said my grandmother. ‘And now, we restore it to its former state.’
6. Pru’s Prophecy
The restoration part was a lot less fun. Having the energy of the sun inside me, and sharing it with the tree, had been a dizzying, enervating experience. Giving the sun’s energy back, and removing the life I’d given to the tree, was a whole lot less fun.
It wasn’t that it exhausted me. I felt about the same as I had before the lesson. But having the power of the sun in you and then letting it go again … it made the everyday me feel so much less exciting.
My grandmother offered to make dinner, but I wanted to check in with my dad, so I left her to it and headed to the Fisherman’s Friend.
My mother was in the kitchen with one of her assistants, while someone unexpected served behind the bar.
‘Jared?’ I took a seat in front of him. ‘Why are you helping out here?’
He poured me a red wine, unprompted, and passed it my way. ‘What with the Vander Inn crawling with Wayfarers, I needed a bit of a break. When I got here your dad and Felim were on their way out. It didn’t look like your dad would be back for a while so I offered to fill in.’
‘Oh?’ I tried to keep my expression blank. ‘They were here?’
Jared moved closer. ‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘I know about Mark, and I won’t spread it around. I could smell him all over town, and I can smell him on you now. All I can say is, whatever spell Felim’s been using all these years, it must have been pretty powerful because, until this evening, I never would have cottoned on that Mark was a werewolf.’
‘They should have tracked him by now,’ I said, taking a sip of my drink. ‘What’s with the holdup, I wonder?’
As I spoke, my mother came out of the kitchen, a big grin on her face. ‘Aisling! You smelled my chicken Kiev, then?’
My eyes lit up. ‘I had no idea what you were making, but I knew it’d be good. Do you know what’s taking so long with the search for Mark?’
My mother sighed. ‘He’s moving fast, apparently. Felim says he’s incredibly instinctual as a wolf. He’s disguising his scent and covering his tracks.’
Jared let out a low whistle. ‘And here was me thinking all Mark was good for was driving a tractor.’
I smiled as my mother slid a plate of food my way. ‘This looks good,’ I said, staring down at the meal. The chicken Kiev was homemade, and it came with thick chips and mushy peas. Fuzz hopped up onto my lap, licking his lips. My mother laughed and pushed a smaller plate of chicken his way.
‘For you, my little fuzzball,’ she said, kissing his head.
‘You should know that Queen Úna’s already given him his dinner,’ I informed her.
My mother kissed Fuzz’s again. ‘No matter. I know he likes my cooking better.’
He grinned up at her and, through a mouthful of chicken he said, ‘You know it, Momma.’
I shook my head. ‘You’re shameless, do you know that?’
‘Speaking of shameless,’ said Jared. ‘Is it true what Pru said? About Greg?’
I gave him a miserable grunt in response.
‘That bad, then?’ Jared questioned.
‘Worse.’
‘That’ll be why Pru’s in such a tizzy.’ He leaned closer to me. ‘Maybe when you finish your meal, you should head over to see her. I have a feeling she’s planning something.’
Fuzz, who had cleared his plate, looked covetously at mine. ‘I can help you out with your chicken, my witch, if you’re pressed for time. You know me – I live to give.’
≈
Jared hadn’t been wrong about the Vander Inn being filled with Wayfarers. I’d spotted a few around town on my way there, too. It made sense that they’d try to stay close to Nollaig, seeing as she was the most likely person for Ron to get in touch with, but Nollaig was not happy with the arrangement.
She should have been off on her honeymoon by now. Instead she was surrounded by strangers, all the while trying to come to terms with the fact that Ron was the founder of Vlad’s Boys.
Sure, he had professed himself to be a changed man at the wedding, and had done his utmost not to go along with the gang, but that was all part of Nollaig’s heartbreak. Ron had been told that if he didn’t go with the gang, Jared would suffer. Even with his son’s life at risk, he’d hesitated.
I knew that Nollaig was more upset about that than anything else, and I felt the same. I now knew what it was like to have the love of two amazing parents – parents who I knew would always put me first. It seemed as though it ought to be the natural way of things, but not where Ron was concerned.
Now, Nollaig was in the dining room, playing a hand of poker with a few of the Wayfarers – Gretel, Todge, and a couple of officers I didn’t know. She pointed to the
ceiling.
‘Pru’s up in her room,’ she said. ‘You’ll just catch her if you hurry.’
I dashed up the stairs to find Pru trying on one pair of earrings after another. There was a selection of crystal balls on her bed.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
She threw down the last pair of earrings and turned to face me. ‘I’m a failure, that’s what’s going on. My attempt to talk some sense into Greg did not go well.’
‘Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to have all that much success,’ I admitted. ‘I love Greg like a brother, but on this occasion I think he’s lost the plot. It’s one thing enjoying being a vampire. It’s another thing to get a monstrosity of a fountain built in front of your flat.’
‘You’re really focusing on that fountain.’
‘I am,’ I replied. ‘Because that’s the kind of thing crazy people like his ex-neighbour do. The other day he was saying he wanted to take the cure as soon as he’d healed from the death curse. How could he go from one extreme to the other so quickly?’
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Eventually she said, ‘Look, do you remember the wedding?’
‘Of course I remember the wedding. It was only a few days ago, for criminy’s sake.’
She laughed dryly. ‘Yeah, right. Well, do you remember how reluctant I was to turn Greg? How I would have preferred anyone but me and Jared to turn him? Well, it was all because of a prophecy.’ She patted the bed, and I sat down next to her.
‘Years ago,’ said Pru, ‘I had a dream. And in that dream, I appeared to myself – yeah, weird, I know. Anyway, I appeared to myself, and I told myself that neither Jared nor I should ever turn anyone, ever again. Jared was perfectly happy to go along with it, but if I’d told him the full reason, he would have been a whole lot more concerned.’
A Little Bit Vampy Page 4