Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller

  * * *

  I spent the next couple of hours enduring a variety of spells to check my head. Lilly spent most of her time with her nose in a book, making notes on the results of spells while she muttered, "Stranger and stranger." She wouldn't give an explanation.

  Lilly sat next to me with a new book and ran through another spell.

  I cradled my head in my hands and wondered about Railey. She couldn't really be gone, could she?

  My body ached, particularly my lungs and throat. I was already missing the comforts of home, the open air through unglazed windows, all the trinkets I had left behind. Leif and Barnes took Lilly aside for a consultation, and I breathed a little easier.

  I listened for a time to the conversation behind me, but I couldn't make sense of it.

  "What are they talking about?" I asked.

  "The spells on you," Mordon said. "They are working out a way to remove them without causing an adverse reaction."

  Once again I wondered what I had been doing the last three days, but I just had to give Mordon a quizzical glance to see him shake his head. Railey would have spied on conversations, on newspapers and books, and she would have told me. Having her missing was half of my heartache; I needed to know what had happened to her. Had she crossed over? I would miss her if this was the case, but still I would take some comfort in it. But what if whatever had happened to me had harmed her, too?

  My thoughts consumed me while the others laid their spells down over me, making my magic stir once or twice, but not with near the force that it had earlier. From time to time, Mordon would look up from his book and remind me to be calm. I watched a calligraphy pen spin between each of his fingers, twirling around his thumb to start the routine over again.

  At one point, Barnes' spell clapped over my ears and I snapped at him. One of the french doors rattled in accompaniment to my snarl, and Lilly declared, "That should be enough for one day. We should give this some time to heal over first."

  Having them step away made me feel like a puppet whose strings had gone lax. Lilly brought me a cup of tea—lemon and rose hip, with so much hibiscus flower that it had to be made from a bag. I sipped at it to be polite. When Leif, Lilly, and Mordon had stepped aside to discuss my rehabilitation plan, Barnes grunted, "Let me see that."

  Did he mean the tea? I cast him an inquisitive glance, then gave him the cup. He brought out of his vest a small metal flask, topped off my cup with it, and returned the cup to me and the flask to his vest. It smelled sweet and alcoholic. I asked, "And this is?"

  "Elderberry liqueur. Don't tell the others, they think I make brandy. They'll be asking me to make that for them if they find out."

  After a moment's consideration, I sipped at the drink, and found it soothing on my throat. Settling back into my chair, I rubbed my forehead, surprised at how exhausted I was.

  "Don't close your eyes yet," advised Barnes. "You'll sleep through the night better if you wait."

  Much as I wanted to agree with him, I nodded off once the tea was finished. I woke to Lilly shaking my shoulder, hesitantly, as though she were afraid of what I would do if I were startled. A hot cup of broth replaced my tea, and she told me to drink it. I sipped, and fell into a fit of revolted coughing. What was this, an infusion of shrimp brains?

  Leif laughed loudest of the men, and Lilly shot me a glare. Did I say that aloud? My cheeks colored.

  "Drink it," Lilly said, insulted. "I'll be back once I'm done making your bed. There's no other furniture in there yet, but it will be safe. Leif, come on."

  Lilly marched through the french doors.

  Leif sobered and said, "We're going to put up wards around your doors and windows. Keep you safe."

  "And me from leaving?"

  He paused, and decided to not reply. He left. When the door clicked shut, I sighed and glanced at Barnes and Mordon. "Why do I feel more at ease with the two of you than them?"

  Barnes said, twitching his mustache, "It is often easier to start a new acquaintance than to renew an old."

  I frowned but accepted it, and gulped down the broth to get it over with. Time passed in silence, except for the sound of Mordon rolling his pen between his fingers.

  Leif and Lilly emerged again, and I gave Lilly back the cup and stood up.

  The carpet met me when my knees gave out. I saw the three men exchange a glance. Mordon got up while I was trying—and failing—to make my legs work.

  I brushed at his hands when he put one arm around my shoulders and scooped up my knees in his other arm. My eyes burned in embarrassment.

  Mordon's low rumble said into my hair, "This is common. They had to mix your magic in with theirs to take away some spells. Not many people can move around after that."

  My feet brushed the curtains as he carried me. Though his words did help, they didn't make me any less frustrated. "I'm not like this. I'm not—"

  A bed pressed against my back, embracing me. Mordon found a quilt over the bottom of the bed and dropped it over me, his rings flashing in moonlight coming through the windows. The air was so still here. So stuffy.

  "Wait," I called to Mordon's retreating back. I motioned to the window. "Do you think you could…?"

  His face fell into a relieved smile, and he nodded. He muttered a spell, opened the window, and said, "The air can come in, but nothing goes out."

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and blurted, “I'm the woman in the paper.”

  “What?”

  “I'm the woman in the paper,” I repeated, feeling worn now, tired. I'd spent hours worrying and fretting, and now I was worn out.

  He stared at me again, then shook his head. “Impossible. She's dead.”

  Now I stared at him. She was…dead? But I had been so certain! If she wasn't me, then she looked exactly like me, and she had my necklace. However, I obviously was not dead.

  Was I free to go, or had I gotten myself in trouble by breaking in?

  Mordon studied me a little longer, then asked, “What made you think that you were the woman in the paper?”

  “Because of my lack of memories.”

  He shook his head. “And the necklace? It could be a duplicate. Makers do that now and again.”

  “But…” The words caught in my throat. I ran my fingers over the cloth wrapped around my arm. “I don't have any memory of the last three days. When I was scint.”

  Mordon arched an eyebrow. “I can think of a few people who would like to speak with you, then.”

  “I won't talk with them," I snapped, feeling the air thicken again.

  Mordon either didn't notice, or was taking it in stride. He smiled. "No?"

  That expression sent a chill through me and I wondered if I had a choice in the matter now that I'd told him. I met his green and red eyes squarely and said,“Not unless they won't take my magic away.”

  He opened a hand. “They'll agree to let you keep it if you have a teacher.”

  “Then you be it,” I said, before I could stop myself.

  Mordon turned his head to the side and narrowed his brows together, considering. He held out his hand, palm up. I hesitated, unsure what to make of the gesture, then placed my hand flat against his, palm touching palm. For a second it was my cold fingers resting against his wrist, then I felt the heat of an ember forming.

  It was a test to see if sorcerers could partner in spell-casting, one of the first things I had learned as a child. Usually cooperation between sorcerers and their elements was not a problem, but if there was a conflict, then the cause had to be identified and corrected.

  When I rocked my hand palm-up, I saw a pearl of light lift and glow from my skin.

  I touched it with a fingertip. The pearl was so bright that I couldn't gaze at it for long. I said, “I haven't done this since Railey.”

  “Railey?”

  I pulled my hand back. The pearl faded to a speck of dust. “She died.”

  Mordon raised a brow, but resisted commenting. He sat back and rubbed his forehead, then looked towa
rds the paper. He said, “If you were that woman, then you need to know that you made a great many powerful sorcerers very angry. It would be better for everyone involved if you were dead.”

  My heart stopped and mouth went dry. I said, “What are you saying?”

  “I'm saying that you need to choose: do you want your magic, or your life?”

  I bit my lip and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I was staring into green and red eyes. I said, “Living without magic isn't much of a life.”

  “So what do you want me to tell Constable Barnes and the others?”

  “You don't believe me, do you?”

  “No,” Mordon said. “I think you're tired of living on the fringes of society and you see this as a way to break into it.”

  I couldn't blame him, but I still felt a swell of disappointment. Then I had a thought. I unclasped the butterfly necklace from my own neck and dropped it into Mordon's hand. He turned it twice over in his palm, and asked, “Where did you get this?”

  I looked down at my arm, and felt the cool trail of a breeze run down my back. “Tell them I found her body, or what was left of it, while hiking in the mountains. I could only bring this back. It was around her neck.”

  “It seems the least I owe you is a new key, as we were all too busy to answer the door in good time.” Mordon's jewelled fingers closed over the pendant, and he gave it some thought. “I will teach you, if you'll stay in the rooms provided by the coven. Feral magic is a sensitive business.”

  He opened his palm, and a flame drifted up over the butterfly, making flecks in the paint gleam. Mordon said, “An oath between us. What we spoke of earlier has no place, except in the past. The two of us will never mention it again, to anyone. So says I, Mordon Meadows.”

  I held my hand over the tip of his flame, feeling a brush of wind stir between us. “And so says I, Feraline Hope Swift.”

  “Now rest. You need it.”

  Despite myself, I did.

  I fell asleep loving fresh air over my skin.