changeling chronicles 03 - faerie realm (25 page)

“Is he—?”

“He’s stable,” said one of the mages in the back. “What did he do?”

“Displaced himself.” And me. He’d said transporting people cost more energy. Moving two people at once, especially in Faerie… what was he
thinking?

Fifteen minutes later, I sat in the corner of the sitting room they’d brought him into, picking at my bloodstained fingernails, while the blue lights of healing spells lit up the air from the sofa where he lay. I counted the books on the shelves along the wall to stop myself curling up in a ball and sobbing. My heart jumped at the slightest noise from behind me.

“Ivy, do you need a healing spell?” Wanda indicated the front of my shirt, which was stained with enough blood to have come from a fatal wound.

“I’m fine. It’s—not my blood.” I’d explain my healing ability after this was over. Because then I’d have to get into what we’d been in Faerie for in the first place, and the last thing I needed was to send everyone into a panic while their leader was incapacitated.

I swallowed, my eyes stinging. “Is he going to be all right?”

“If he stops bleeding.” She glanced over at him, worry pinching her face. “It’s like something’s blocking the healing spell.”

“Did you get the thorns out?”

“Thorns?”

My mouth dropped open. “Shit. It’s faerie magic. Guess you can’t see it.”

The thorns must pack a hell of a lot of power to transfer from one realm to another in the first place.

Her eyes widened. “Drake. Ivy says there are thorns—”

“I’ll do it,” I said quickly. Oh, god. Oh god oh god.

Before I reached him, a gust of air went through the room. All eyes went to Vance, not the window, which was closed. Crap. He could use his power even when unconscious. His shirt was torn, the fabric stuck to his chest with thorns snagged in it. Damn. This was bad.

“Ivy,” he rasped suddenly, eyes flickering open.

I jumped. “Vance. You’re—”

His gaze darted around the room, landing on Drake. “Get on the phone to the council,” he said, his voice rough. “There’s a faerie—”

“Wait till I’ve got those thorns out first,” I said. “Sorry. This is going to hurt.”

His dark grey eyes pierced me.
I thought you were dead.
Relief threatened to knock me down, but we weren’t through yet. The thorns might be poisonous, and I couldn’t even count how many were lodged in his skin.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said.

I didn’t manage a smile, though if he could make jokes, the healing must be working. He’d be better off staying unconscious. He scowled when I pulled one of the smaller thorns free, then another. A faint breeze stirred.

“If you even think about using your ability,
I’ll
knock you out.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. I heard Drake snickering behind me.

Gritting my teeth, I yanked another thorn from his arm. His coat had protected him from the worst of the damage, but I’d never figured the first time I’d be undressing Vance Colton would involve so much blood. My stomach knotted at the sight of the deep wounds.

“I can set up a spell to numb the pain, but these need to come out first.”

He grunted, eyes closed. “Send out a warning to every mage in the region,” he said over his shoulder to another of the mages. “Make sure the witches and necromancers know, too. The faerie has Sidhe-level magic—” He cut off in a hiss of pain.

“If you want the mages to still have a leader when the Lady comes back and attacks us,” I said, yanking another thorn out, “you’ll keep still.”

“She can’t cross between—” He snarled when I pulled out another thorn. “Realms.”

“Never underestimate a faerie.” My hands were shaking, but I managed to remove the worst of the thorns without looking too hard at the damage. My hands were slick with blood, and despite holding a conversation, I knew Vance was covering up how much it really hurt. When I got to the second last thorn, claws shot from his hands so quickly they’d have impaled me if I’d been in the way. Hardened dark scales spread up both arms.
Shit.
He was shifting.

The window rattled, and so did the furniture. Icy air swept through the room. Double crap.

Drake swore and ran over to help, holding Vance’s arm down. I wiped my bloody hands on my jeans and grabbed the last thorn. Drake yelped, letting go of the Mage Lord’s right arm. Vance’s hand was entirely covered in scales, which had spread up to his elbow. My hand locked around his clawed one, pinning it down. Or trying to. Ow. That’d leave a bruise.

“Someone get a healing spell!” I gasped.

The thorn came out in a spray of blood. Vance’s hands jerked, and a deafening crash sounded from across the room. The breeze whipped my hair back, but I didn’t care when his hand crushed mine, unwittingly pulling me into a circle of light from the healing spell.

“Don’t move.” My gaze dropped to his wounds, already closing. The rough grip on my own hand loosened as his turned back into a human one. Vance didn’t look away from the place where our hands locked.

“You,” I said, “are the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

Drake cleared his throat loudly. I looked over my shoulder to find the other mages awkwardly in the act of setting the bookcase upright. Oops. Vance had knocked over half the furniture, by the look of things.

Vance sat up, ignoring my protests. “Get my phone,” he growled at Drake. “Tell the council we’ve a potential war to prepare for.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Nobody had seen the Lady of the Tree since we’d got back. Considering she could turn invisible if she wanted to, this gave me no comfort whatsoever. Mages walked in and out of the meeting room until Quentin and Drake shut them out, demanding they leave the Mage Lord alone.

Vance wasn’t taking the ‘bed rest’ order particularly well. Even after they’d managed to get him to keep still long enough use a blood replenishing spell, he was more bad-tempered than a poltergeist trapped in a summoning circle. The third time he yelled at someone and almost shifted, Drake all but dragged his boss into the hallway.

“You’ve lost entirely too much blood to be walking around giving orders,” he said. “Quentin, make sure the Mage Lord stays put. Have either of you eaten anything?”

I looked at Vance and shook my head. I’d been running on adrenaline for the last few hours, but I’d crash out soon.

“Come on,” said Vance, pulling me through a door into a kitchen. “Let’s humour them. You look like death warmed over.”

“Er, hello?” Okay, he’d used a cleansing spell to get rid of the blood and put on a clean shirt, while I was covered in blood and dismembered thorns. Aside from Drake, none of the other mages had so much as acknowledged me as the one who’d saved their leader’s life. Not that I cared, because it’d been my fault he’d ended up in Faerie.

“Stay put,” said Quentin, shoving me into a chair at the nearby table. “I take it that isn’t your blood, otherwise you wouldn’t be walking.”

I glanced down at my wrecked clothes. “Long story.”

“Starting from the part where you walked into your own sword,” growled Vance, sitting opposite me at a warning look from Drake. If it wasn’t for the knot of worry inside me after the close call we’d had, I’d have been amused at the number of people who’d taken it upon themselves to order the Mage Lord around.

“You saw the fight.” I accepted the plate of homemade pasta the brownie offered to me. “I was outgunned. It was get hit by Irene or get hit by her super-powered sword. I knew I could heal myself.” I paused. “She—melted my sword.” I put the plate on the table and rested my head in my hand. What with Vance’s brush with death, I’d all but forgotten Irene. An ache grew in my chest. I’d always assumed my sword was immune to faeries. My one solid, dependable defence.

Vance’s hand rested on top of my wrist. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t say—”

“I know what you’re thinking.” He wrapped my fingers around his, leaning across the table. I couldn’t help noting his hand had the same callouses mine did—marks from years fighting with a sword.

“Sure you do.” I laughed emptily. “I failed. She didn’t die. Instead,
you
nearly did, and she went off god-knows-where with half my magic inside that weapon of hers.”

His hand squeezed mine. “Like I said. Not your fault.”

“Don’t you ever do anything so reckless again,” I told him.

“I’ll make no promises.” He loosened his hold on my hand. “Eat. You’ll stay here tonight. It’s not safe to go back alone.”

You’ll stay here tonight.
I dropped my gaze, my cheeks burning, and ate quickly, trying to restore my energy. I could feel Vance’s eyes on me, but he didn’t say anything until we’d both finished eating.

“I meant it,” he said. “You ought to call—”

“Isabel. Crap.” I dug out my phone with shaking hands. “The battery’s almost dead.” I stood, pressing my phone to my ear, and ran out into the corridor. “Hey. Isabel, my phone’s about to die. I’ll have to stay here tonight. Vance can’t use his ability. Can you hear anything from shifter territory?”

I heard her exhale. “Not at the moment. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Good. When the Lady finds out I’m not dead, she’ll be pissed. I don’t know if she’s over in the Grey Vale, but she’s planning something big on shifter territory.”

Namely, ripping open the veil and possibly dragging a dead god back into life, too.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” said Isabel. “George is throwing a tantrum, but I’ve got it under control. Be careful—both of you.”

“You, too. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.” I hung up.

“Ivy?” Wanda walked over to me. “Are you sure you don’t need a healing spell?”

I’d removed my jacket, exposing the blood all over my shoulder where Irene had stabbed me.

“No. The blood’s mine, but…” I chewed on my lip, debating, then said, “I have faerie magic. I can heal when I’m in their realm. It’s Vance who took the hit.”

Her eyes went wide. “Really? You can heal?”

“Only in Faerie,” I said. “I was taken during the invasion and escaped by stealing magic from one of them. I—it’s my fault we were there in the first place.”

“No, it isn’t. He told me.” Wanda glanced over her shoulder. “You can shower in the guest room. I’ll see if I can find some spare clothes.”

“Oh. Thanks. But it’s—it’s true.” My hand found Irene’s empty sheath at my side and a lump grew in my throat. “There’s a mad faerie out for blood, maybe back in this realm. I should have killed her, and I didn’t. What—what did the council say?”

“The Lady of the Tree—she’s a top grade threat. The manor’s warded against all intruders.”

Not if we have a repeat of the invasion.
“We need to find her. She already knows where I live. My flatmate’s babysitting a little shifter kid. I can’t let anything happen to them.”

“Damn.” Wanda paused. “I’d set up a mage mark, but we’d need Vance’s ability to do it. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I clenched my hands. “I’m banking on her not realising I survived. She disappeared as soon as she—as soon as Vance—”

“Ivy.” Wanda hugged me. “You’ll both be fine.”

I hugged her back, then remembered the blood. “Crap.”

“Don’t worry. We’re swimming in cleansing spells here.”

I wiped my eyes with one hand. “Sorry. I feel like I totally let him down. Everyone thinks I can kill the Sidhe because I have magic from one of them, but it wasn’t enough. That place screwed me up. If I didn’t hate those fucking thorns so much, I might have been able to stop them before they got Vance.”

“It’s not your fault. I—I’ve seen the Sidhe. I know why you hate them. I don’t blame you.”

I looked at her. “You’ve seen them?”

She winced, her gaze on her feet. “It’s my only memory of the invasion. You’re… I don’t know how you went up against one of the Sidhe and walked away alive.”

“Me neither,” I said honestly. “The Lady, though—she’s not Sidhe. She’s masquerading, and she has their magic. Same as me, but she wields it better. Maybe because I won’t use mine to its full extent. It’s death magic. I thought I could make the magic my own, but maybe it’s too late.”

The sound of voices came upstairs. “Ignore me,” I said. “I’m talking crap and we’ve a war to win.”

“You aren’t talking crap,” said Wanda. “It’s a valid fear, but I don’t believe for a minute your magic can make you do anything you don’t want it to. My grandmother says magic is never stronger than you are. She was talking about mages, of course, but from what Vance told me, it sounds like the faerie magic tested you in the same way.”

“I… I don’t know. It seems to have a mind of its own these days.” But it hadn’t destroyed me the way those thorns destroyed the ogre. Which meant I must be strong enough to handle the power.
The magic judged me and found me worthy,
the Lady had said. Maybe it really was testing me.

The voices from the meeting room grew louder.

“I’ll leave some spare clothes in the guest room,” said Wanda. “The council wanted to question you, but I managed to talk them out of it. If… you didn’t want people to know where your magic came from.”

“I—thanks. I’ll think about it when this is over.”

If there’s anything of my magic left in the end.

Right. Okay. Shower first.

It seemed to take an age to scrub the blood from my body. I couldn’t even tell how much was my blood and how much was Vance’s. We should both by rights be dead. Faerie had saved my life. Luck had saved Vance’s.

Wrapping my hair in a towel, I found Wanda’s spare clothes on the guest room bed. They fit—kind of. She was taller, but I was more muscular. She’d also used a repairing spell on my jacket and cleaned the blood off. None of my daggers had made it out. And Irene…

I closed my eyes, angry with myself.
It was just a sword. They can be replaced.
I’d almost lost something far, far more important.