Faerie Magic (11 page)

Was he feeding on my emotions? My fear? If his magic worked the same way as mine, maybe. My own magic faded by the second, more transparently blue than as bright as earlier.
No. Come on.
Sweat dripped down my forehead. His blade moved with ease, showing he’d had training, and a lot of it. But the way he wielded magic so casually was something else entirely. Swirling blue tendrils encased him. My grip slipped. I missed a block, then another. His sword’s edge tore open my jacket sleeves, nicking my wrist. One more inch and he’d be at my throat.

I screamed and pushed everything I had left into my sword, striking and slashing until I’d regained the lost ground. But his magic swamped mine. Devoured it. Like he was drawing on
my
power.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I can’t die out here.

The blade clattered from my hands.

He smiled at me, a humourless, animal grin. “I thought you had some special talent. I thought that’s why you killed him. But you’re nothing at all, Ivy Lane. Nothing.”

I couldn’t move. My body had locked into place as his magic crushed mine. It even
looked
the same. Of course it did. My magic and his had the same source.

Baring his teeth, he swung the ash blade.

Blood spurted from my arm and side in a crimson haze. I collapsed, hardly registering the pain. My sight blurred.
I’m dying
. Blue smoke swirled before my eyes, blurring.

He’d turned away, like he’d heard something. Then he disappeared, far quicker than a normal human would be able to.

He was gone. I blinked, trying to stay conscious, and pushed myself up on my good hand. My head throbbed, though the real pain came from the wound in my side. I leaned on the wall to prop myself upright.
You… have to get out. You need to…

Leaning on the wall, I staggered down the alleyway. Blood spattered the ground at every step, and the edges of my vision grew fuzzier by the second. I’d never make it home before I passed out, and then I’d be fair game for two hundred bloodthirsty half-faeries when they left the building.

Shit on a stick.

My hands fumbled my phone, shaking fingers racing down my contacts list. Call Isabel. No. She didn’t know where I’d gone, and wouldn’t get here in time. But Vance still hadn’t answered my last message. Damn. I rested my other hand against the wall, my finger slipping onto the call button.

He wouldn’t answer. The son of a bitch would leave me here to die, because apparently he never bothered to check his damn phone. Anger made my hand shake harder, and I dropped the phone.

“Shit!” I said, aloud. I crouched, and that did it for my legs. They folded underneath me, and a wave of pain rocked me from head to toe. I threw out my good arm in time to break my fall, my head coming to rest against damp concrete.

“Ivy. Are you okay?” His voice sounded fuzzy, like he spoke from a crowded place. I’d knocked the call button.

“I’m bleeding to death in an alley.” I tried to yell. It came out as a croak. “No, I’m not fucking okay, Vance.” The world had gone hazy again. “I’m at Mulberry Road—an alley.”

I didn’t hear his response, because darkness rushed over me, and I fell into the black.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I blinked. I wasn’t dead. Good start.

My second realisation: I lay on something soft. Like a bed. Maybe I’d dreamt it all. That’d be nice. No half-faeries, no idiot selling fake faerie blood, no morally dubious magical tournament…

No…
him.

Fear rushed through me, though tempered by the bone-deep weariness weighing me down. Images from the fight flashed through my head—how I’d faltered, frozen in terror. My brain decided those thoughts were too much to bother with right now, and pushed them aside to focus on the present. I blinked again. Vance Colton looked back at me.

“Oh, it’s you.”

His brow wrinkled. “That’s how you thank me for saving your life?”

I tried to sit up. A mistake. Pain lanced up my side. My vision swam, and I nearly fell into the dark again. My head hit the pillow. The world danced around a bit, then decided to stay where it was. I’d clearly interrupted Vance in the middle of a meeting, judging by the smart suit he wore. The sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and his forearms were stained dark red.

“Damn,” I said.

“What did it this time?” Despite his flippant words, his expression was serious. I looked down at my injured arm, twitching my fingers. The movement didn’t hurt, but my arm felt numb and heavy. Thick bandages covered my side, already soaked through with blood. The wound must be resistant to healing spells. Most likely, Calder had a bespelled sword.

“Hellhounds chased me,” I told Vance. “Then…” After he’d ditched me, the idea of telling him about Calder… didn’t appeal. Sure, I wouldn’t be able to fool him for long, but I was too tired, too worn down, to slice open those emotional wounds again. My physical wounds were giving me enough grief already.

“You should consider getting a guard dog of your own.” The Mage Lord stepped away, apparently satisfied I wasn’t going to bleed to death.

I rolled my eyes. “Like a real dog would stand a chance against… that was a joke, wasn’t it?”

“She catches on eventually.”

I feebly swatted at him. “Your bedside manner is appalling.”

“You drool in your sleep.”

“Oh, we’re back to taking cheap shots?” I glanced down at the bandages again. “How long am I stuck like this?”

“I put on an extra coating of the healing salve. You’ll fully heal in a few hours, but you’ll probably find it hard to walk until morning.”

“Morning.” At last, far too late, it hit me. “I’m in your house.”

“Looks that way, yes.”

“In…” I looked around the room.

“This is a guest bedroom. I thought you’d appreciate the quiet.”

“How very considerate.” It was, actually. More so than I’d have expected… but what the hell did I know? “So you did have your phone switched on.”

“Yes.” His brow wrinkled again. “I was detained… for a significantly long time. The East Midlands mages had a disagreement over who to nominate to take the position of the new head mage. The two leading candidates decided a public duel was a way to settle their dispute.”

“A duel? Is that normal?”

“Not unheard of.” He waved a hand, and Quentin the brownie ran past, picking up something from the floor. I leaned over to see. More bloodstained cloths and bandages. Whoa. I’d been really lucky this time.

“So you have experience duelling with magic?” The words came out before I could stop them.

Shit. What was I asking? More to the point,
why?
He was the Mage Lord. He’d probably been duelling since childhood.

Wait, where was Irene? I scanned the room and saw my sword leaning against the far wall. Vance’s eyes followed my gaze. “Yes, of course,” he said, in answer to my question. “Why?”

I took a deep breath. “I may have entered myself into a magical tournament for half-faeries.”

His gaze snapped back to mine. “What?”

I explained what I’d found out on my jaunt into half-blood territory, and on my investigation into the Trials. Except for my encounter with Calder. His name lay on my tongue, but I couldn’t speak it. Nor how he’d completely crushed my magic. I couldn’t begin to make sense of how he’d done it, and Vance wouldn’t give me answers. Only pity I didn’t want.

Yeah. Like lying to Vance Colton worked out so great last time.

His cool grey eyes studied me when I’d finished speaking. “You used faerie magic to kill Velkas,” he said. “You’re more than a match for any half-faerie.”

“I was in their realm at the time, though,” I said. “Magic’s stronger there.”

“And they’re in
our
realm,” said Vance. “The Trials are. Right?”

“Good point.”
Idiot.
The blood loss was getting to me. The other half-faeries wouldn’t be as super-powered as the son of a former Sidhe lord. They’d be weird creatures like that spidery fey. Creepy, but not invincible. “Okay, but… I barely have my instincts under control. Not to mention I’ll be pretending to be one of them as well as fighting. So I can’t do anything a half-blood wouldn’t be able to do.”

“You’re over-thinking it,” he said. “You’re tough, your magic is strong. I don’t see any reason you can’t stand up to a half-faerie.”

His unexpected expression of confidence in me made me blink. “Okay… Well. One of them almost killed me right now.” Now I sounded stupid. Calder, though, was half-Sidhe, a hundred times more powerful than a regular half-blood. I didn’t know if any of the other contestants had the blood—and magic—of a Sidhe lord.

“Are you asking me to tell you it’s a bad idea?”

“I was expecting you to,” I said.

“I thought you needed a self-esteem boost.”

Huh? “I really look that pathetic?” I moved my hands to the bandage on my side and gingerly poked it. Ow. Still not fully healed.

“Don’t touch it yet,” said Vance. “If you want the bandages changed during the night, call Quentin.”

Wait. “Hang on, I’m staying here?”

“I don’t see you going anywhere. Besides,” he said. “I thought you implied you wanted me to help you prepare for this ill-advised magical bout.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Have I risen one level in your esteem, Ivy Lane?”

“If you’re going to be a dick about it, never mind. I’m tired.” I closed my eyes, but arguing with him had made me more alert. And pissed off. “By the way, the bastard who did this to me is alive, and knows I’m human. So don’t say I have no reason to fear for my life.”

A pause. “I never said that.”

I turned my head to the wall pointedly, keeping my eyes closed. Eventually, his soft footfalls told me he’d left the room.

Bloody Avakis and his mind games. I’d sworn never to fall for them again. Never to let one of
them
get underneath my skin. I’d only just begun coming to terms with my magic, once Avakis’s, and accepting it as my own.

How did Calder smother my power?

Once I was sure Vance had gone, I pressed my head into the pillow, cursing. Damn the Mage Lord for making this harder than it needed to be. He was the one who nagged me not to fight against the faeries without backup. This was why getting involved with him was a bad idea. He was contradictory. Tempestuous. Inconsistent.

Possibly sleeping next door. Without clothes on.

Dammit, Ivy.

On the whole, I’d rather imagine Vance naked than think about Calder or Avakis, but neither would help me sleep. Instead, I tried to sit up and got a nice shock of pain through my left side. Biting down on a cry of pain, I watched the lights on the ceiling swim around for half a minute before the welcome blackness returned, pulling me under.

***

I moved through fog, chasing a voice. Melodic, enticing, it whispered,
“Ivy. This way.”

The fog smothered everything, preventing me from seeing where I walked, though I wasn’t sure solid ground rested under my feet. More like… I was floating. Following the voice.

“Come with me, Ivy. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Transparent, indistinct figures stared at me from the fog, fading every time I tried to get a closer look. I passed right through one, and an icy chill ran through my bones. So many… so many dead. Humans.

“Where—” I started to shout, then stopped dead.

Two figures floated in front of me. A man and a woman. Even though their features were blurred, the familiarity slammed into me like a heavy blow.

“Dad,” I whispered. “Mum.”

They watched me, slipping in and out of focus. I cried out as they faded, reaching as though I could pull them back into existence. My hand passed through thick yet insubstantial fog.

“Ivy,” whispered the first voice.

The fog cleared, revealing trees—too tall to see the highest branches. They formed an unbroken canopy blocking all the light but a faint glow. Shadowy figures moved amongst the trees.

“Faerie,” I said aloud. “The Grey Vale.”

At once, memories filtered through to me. Avakis. His son. I was—

I snapped awake, raising my arms to shield my face from the sunlight falling onto the bed through a gap in the curtains. Sitting up, I pushed sweaty hair from my forehead.

“He’s not here,” I muttered to myself. “He’s not. His dickhead son thinks you’re dead, and he only beat you by a fluke.”

Concentrating on the knock to my pride rather than the horror that some part of Avakis survived, I peeled the bandages from my side. Blood stained them, but the skin beneath was unbroken. Another witch magic miracle. I slid off the bed, realising I still wore the clothes I’d fought Calder in. Either I’d been bleeding too much for Vance to remember to remove them, or he hadn’t wanted to undress me while I was unconscious.