Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) (3 page)

“Fera! Wow, you're up early. Like, you're never up … I thought you'd sleep in after yesterday. You should, you know, all those spells thrown on you at once disrupts the system, so what do you need? I've got something for a headache.” Her hands flew to the cabinet above her, reaching for some sort of potion.

I had no doubt that whatever was in the glass vial she was digging for would put me to sleep instead of dousing my headache and the other various pains I'd recently acquired. Just the very thought of what it might taste like made my stomach roll and twist. Then there was a part of me that didn't believe what had just happened, that that was a delusion and this was reality.

“You're spilling on the counter,” I said as I sat down on the edge of the bench, avoiding looking at the others.

What I wanted to do was yell that I'd almost been kidnapped by two different parties, but I couldn't get the words out. Plus, there was a perverse part of me which took pleasure in the thought of leading them on like normal before dropping the “oh-by-the-way-I-had-two-home-invasions-just-now” bomb.

What conversation there had been was now as dead as it would have been if I'd tossed it into the lava pit after Cole. Rubbing my temples, I asked, “Who leaked to the paper, and what's it say today?”

Barnes shifted. Was he shorter than I was? If so he would be the shortest one amongst us, but that didn't make him small. He was built like a caboose and had the power of a freight train equipped with a handlebar mustache that he liked to twitch. He was Lilly's guardian, to keep the less-nobly-minded males from packing her off to wife in the middle of the night. Officially, Mordon was my guardian; we'd caused a bit of a stir by deciding to get together.

Barnes answered, and it took me a couple of sentences to get past the accent and focus on his words. “…another case fer the ruling class to push for revoking the creature immunity clause. But others like ye too much ta let you hang, so it's a duel of words in the paper.”

Not much new. There had been a great deal of commotion over the death of a prominent pure-blood human, no matter how generally disliked he had been, but that had tapered off gradually to old news. I thought about dropping the bomb now, but couldn't quite voice it. I used the mug that Lilly put in front of me as a finger warmer, and tried not to so much as inhale the fumes.

“Leif, I thought the hearing went over as well as it could. There isn't something you're holding back from me?”

Bright blue eyes lit on mine, and he ran a hand over the blonde stubble of his skull as he stared at me, calculating something in his head. “It did. And the Drake Colony sees no reason to hold any formal event, but…there's the fey. Your use of illusions lead to the death of a man, and they like their powers to be used with though of the consequences. To them, you killed Gregor, and that must be accounted for.”

I'd helped the Hunters every now and again when I was younger. Many of the members knew me, but I hadn't been involved in their politics beyond being largely excluded from them. Mordon let out a grumbled mutter that only Barnes and I could recognize as a drake swear word.

Leif continued, “The fey demand that their kin leave to see the assembly immediately upon receiving a summons … and if you're awake, you'll get it soon. Now will you go back to sleep?”

I eyed Mordon's drink, wishing for my own cup or three of the thick, salty breakfast that was more akin to gravy than to coffee. “You need to teach me how to make drake's brew.”

Lilly sighed and whisked the potion out from my hands, knowing better than to try to force me to drink it. Leif was too tired to object, same with Mordon.

Barnes said, “The fey assembly isn't the sole challenge. Half of it is getting there. The Verdant Wildwoods aren't tame. They're the woods that you hear of in all those old stories. The ones that have trees with eyes and an occasional ent. The ones with wolves the height of a draft horse. The ones that will lead you astray with will-o-the-wisps. See, the feys don't believe in dealing out punishment. They believe the woods and the land will do it for them. They scatter their ashes over it, hold daily rituals to encourage the woods to have its own heart and laws. It is them and they are it. If you're guilty of your crimes, you won't arrive to the assembly. If you do arrive, I'm not certain what will occur, but it won't be easy on you.”

My throat tightened. It was physically painful to play this oblivious, but they'd know something was wrong if I didn't act contrary. “If I choose to not obey the summons and convince the Hunters to leave me alone?”

“Your innate fey abilities will fade away. Supposedly this will happen anyway if you do not visit your ancestral home to recharge.”

Upon thinking about it, Mother always had gone on a yearly vacation, never telling me her destination. I'd always suspected where she'd gone, but it didn't feel better for me to confirm it. Tiredness swept my body. I was both unwilling to forfeit my heritage and concerned that the loss of half of my powers would leave me very vulnerable. Even in my dragon form, I was rather pathetic. Children just out of their single digits were much stronger than I was, in large part due to my late-in-life ability to shift, but nevertheless I needed every edge I had.

I rolled my head back to stare at the ceiling. Perhaps this fey-forest-visitation was in part why I was feeling a fatigue which would not go away. I checked the stack of mail on the table. No summons was present.

“How do you know I'm going to receive a summons soon?”

Leif leaned back and ran his fingers over his scalp, closing his blue eyes. “The feys have been working on correcting their reputation as mean-spirited tricksters and villains.”

“Come clean, Leif.”

He darted blue eyes to Mordon and twitched a half-formed smile. Leif said, “I tried.”

Then he reached into his pocket and brandished a letter, holding it out for me.

Absently, I rubbed life into my fingers. Then tugged the letter out of his fingers.

A stinging jolt, not very strong but enough to notice, twinged through my fingers and up my arms. The basking warmth of a camp fire washed over me, for an instant driving the weariness of days prior away. There was a faint whistle like a flute or a bird, and the sound of distant laughter.

"Activation trap. She's committed now," Barnes said.

"So now the sender know I have handled the letter?"

Barnes nodded. I opened the letter and read, “'Feraline Swift, on the honor and prestige of your clan, past, present, and future, you are called to answer for your actions. Please enter the Verdant Wildwoods upon receiving this summons. You may take with you one other living being. Choose wisely. Failure to respond to this letter will result in exile and a place on the Hunter's List.'” My brow narrowed. “It is signed by thirteen members of the Wildwoods Council. I'm lucky I have a relationship with the Hunters, or they would be here by now. In force.”

I thought of Lyall Limber and the woman. Good thing they'd come. If they hadn't, I'd have been easy prey for Blackwings.

"Doesn't that mean they should have given you more leniency?" asked Lilly.

"Thirteen names is leniency, usually they call it good at one or two," I said, rubbing my forehead. What else had my mother talked about with the feys? The scattered snatches of conversations I could recall weren't doing me any favors. Chief among my concerns were what happened next. A nagging voice trembled through the air, invisible lips mouthed on my ear,
Go now.

I paused at the feel of the paper and the raised surface of the ink. I smelled it. “Cottonwood fluff? And is that sap?”

Barnes said, “Yes, that is cottonwood. The paper also has spider silk, nettle, and dandelion seeds. It is pressed with other seeds, too, which sprout after you bury the letter in your garden. What comes up depends on how well they like you.”

I raised a brow at him. How did Barnes know all of this? Not that it mattered right now. I'd always thought that Mother had been a mother-earth-style hippie, the way she planted letters.

When I looked up at Leif, I studied his face for signs of guilt as I said, “My uncles take names off the Hunter's List. It's not a first-time offense that gets someone listed there. How many other letters have there been?”

Leif stared at me, straight-faced. “You needed to answer to the sorcering community first. It was one of their members who died. I wrote to the Wildwoods Council explaining the situation.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Leif?”

“This is the third.”

The third letter? It was a miracle they weren't pouring in through the windows! The two Vanguards had been a polite invitation compared to what I'd earned. I tapped the letter in my hand, trying to not be angry. The others watched me. At last, I said, “I have no time to lose, then.”

“Fera, you aren't supposed to have that. I can't say that I gave it to you, and neither can Lilly, nor Barnes,” Leif said, implying that the Judicial Division had not approved of me receiving even this letter.

“I could claim it,” Barnes grumbled.

“And you'd be reassigned,” I said, my thoughts clear and calm even while my blood simmered and my gut twisted. “No, you three must deny all knowledge of this. It also means you can't come with me.”

Not that they'd want to volunteer. Barnes had once ventured that he would rather walk a mile over hot coals without magic than spend ten minutes in the Wildwoods, and the rest were even less inclined.

“I'll go with you,” said Mordon. His words surprised me, in large part because his other form was a fire drake, and that particular combination was heavily disliked by the feys. I eyed him, frowning. Was it wise to take him with me? Would I be better off arriving by myself?

Mordon took my hand in his, rough callouses scraping over my knuckles. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. How could I tell him no? Mordon's voice held a smile in it when he said, “I haven't met your parents yet, after all.” Then he cocked his head to the side. “Fera?”

“Hmm?”

“Might I ask why you're wearing Barnes' constable coat?”

I glanced down at the blue sleeves wrinkled up about my forearms so the cuffs wouldn't flap off the ends of my fingers. “Oh, it's because I didn't have time to get dressed between the Fey Vanguard rousing me and the Blackwing mercenaries attacking them while they started their plan to whisk me away to the Wildwoods.”

There was absolute, perfect silence while they tried to decide if I was serious. Was my humor
that
dry? They seemed to think so. I said simply, “I thought it was best if we let the two of them duke it out. That way we'd just have to take care of the victors.”

Barnes got to his feet and crossed the living room. He opened my french doors. There was the creak of the benches as the other coven members craned to watch. Without flinching, Barnes let out a terrible growl and flung the doors wide.

We joined him.

Beyond his shoulders, my house was trashed, no sign of the intruders. All I could think was
my poor plants
. My friends turned one by one to stare at me accusingly. I shrugged.

“I hope Lyall is alright. Guess we'll see when we enter the Wildwoods.”

Chalk scratched against rough bricks laid out in diagonals in my sunroom where the houseplants had been re-potted and had their broken limbs trimmed back. When I shuffled sideways, careful to not disrupt the circular pattern with my knees, I instead smudged symbols with my toes. Already my hands boasted a white coating, and the thighs of my jeans wore finger streaks.

Not far away, my spell book and tutor,
Skills of the Thaumaturge
, lay open to a spread depicting an even ring with neat runes inside and two concentric circles within. Even with the best I could do, my circles tended to look more like eggs than rounds. Today, the circle bore a striking resemblance to a six-pointed star. Probably because, in an attempt to not be oblong, I had marked out three times the ends of a meter stick, thinking it would be a simple matter to join those marks in one smooth curve. Laughably mistaken in my basic art skills. I stared blankly at the floor.

I rubbed my forehead. It was that stupid letter combined with this hang-over-thing. Magic hangovers. Who knew?