The Morrigan's Curse (17 page)

COULD I DO IT?
Addie asked herself. Of all the magical talents she'd imitated during her practice sessions with Bran, the one she'd never attempted was lightning. It was the most lethal spell she knew, and she was afraid of accidentally striking someone dead.
But what if I wanted to do it on purpose?

“Neither of you is going to kill Griffyn,” Evangeline whispered. “And not just because I'd be compelled to stop you if you tried. You're both
children
. You aren't going to plot to murder anyone. Do you hear me?
I
took the oath.
I'll
find a way out of it.”

Evangeline hadn't changed much. She was as bossy as ever. If Jax had been Elliot's age, this would've been like old times at the Emrys house. “The Dulacs told me you were dead,” Addie said. “You and Elliot both. But you're alive, so could Elliot be . . . ?” She saw the answer on her sister's face even before she finished the question.

“He's gone,” Evangeline confirmed sadly. “A long time ago. Wylit tried to make him break the Eighth Day Spell, and it killed him.”

Addie's eyes stung but she blinked the tears back stubbornly.
Nothing's different from what I thought before. Hearing it from Evangeline doesn't change anything.
“That's what they said happened to you,” she said, stuffing the memory of her little brother way, way down inside. “That you and Wylit tried to break the spell and failed.”

“What?” Evangeline exclaimed. “No! Wylit was crazy. I almost got killed preserving the eighth day!”

“You had the chance to end the spell and you
preserved
it instead?” Addie gaped at her sister.

“Of course I did!” Evangeline stared right back at Addie. “These people can't be unleashed on the Normal world. What if they were free to create hurricanes
every da
y
?”

“What are you whispering about?” Griffyn growled. “Get over here.” Evangeline shot a worried look at Addie, then went to stand where Griffyn told her to. “Keep your mouth shut and don't move,” he ordered. Obediently, Evangeline pressed her lips together, but her eyes blazed with fury. Addie doubted Griffyn was going to break her sister's spirit no matter how he humiliated her.

Addie turned to say this to Jax and found him staring across the warehouse at Griffyn and Evangeline with a glazed expression, breathing heavily. He twitched as if he was having
a fit. The Sword on his back pulsed with an ugly red glow, like it had been doing on and off since he'd arrived, and his hand was clenched around his honor blade. “What's wrong with you?” Addie asked. When Jax didn't respond, she grabbed his arm. “Hey!”

Jax shook himself. “Thanks,” he muttered.

The Sword's glow faded to the dullness of dried blood. Addie looked Jax up and down, and then her gaze passed on to Griffyn with speculation.
Jax isn't telling the truth about the Sword.

The final Aerons were making their loyalty oaths to Bran, and as each one was accepted, the rest of them cheered. Watching their excitement build, Addie realized that Bran could have called on them to pledge themselves days ago, but he'd deliberately saved it until the eve of his planned assault to rouse their passion and ferocity. The Aerons were too disorganized and wild to maintain focus for very long. Madoc—who'd apparently thought himself on equal footing with Bran—had been entirely blindsided by this, as had Ysabel, who'd returned from wherever she'd been sulking only to have Bran cast an expectant gaze in her direction, too.

The Arawens had enjoyed the status of being allies with the Llyrs for two millennia. But Ysabel was the last of her line, with no family left to back her. Her eyes swept the room, which was now full of enthusiastic Llyr vassals. She glared at her former betrothed and his new, unwilling bride-to-be—but
in the end she came forward and knelt before Bran as if it were her own idea. As if she had a choice.

“Now,” Bran said to Madoc when Ysabel had sworn her allegiance. “Your son.”

“Kel's only fourteen,” Madoc protested.

“His age is irrelevant.”

Kel crept forward like he was going to his doom. Bran accepted his vow with disinterest, not even looking at him. Instead his eyes passed over the crowd and fell on Addie—the only uncommitted person in the room. The Aeron clan, Ysabel, and the Mathonwys were sworn to the Llyrs. Evangeline was bound to Griffyn, and Jax was pledged to Evangeline. Addie was obligated to protect Jax, an Emrys vassal, and had a family loyalty to her sister, but compared to everyone else here, she was relatively free.

If he expects me to kneel down, he's going to be disappointed.
Addie didn't care how much pain Bran inflicted with his Spear. He might make her scream, but he couldn't make her swear. And if he hurt her
or
Evangeline, Jax might unleash the Sword on him.

Bran surveyed her with calculation, then turned away. It occurred to Addie that he wasn't going to ask her to swear her service to him—not because of her stubbornness or because he was worried about Jax's Sword, but because he'd already heard someone else claim her as an agent, someone even he wouldn't dare oppose.

The Morrigan.

Addie had been twelve when the Old Crone first appeared to her. At the time, she'd been peering through the window of a candy store, her eyes fixed on a display of colorful sweets.

“Do you want what you see in there?”

Addie had jumped and whirled simultaneously. A stranger was watching her from the street—an old woman with a bent back and snow-white hair, wearing a shapeless dress more appropriate for sleeping than for walking around in the daytime. She didn't look threatening, but appearances were deceiving where Kin were concerned—and the woman had to be Kin, because she wasn't marked with a tattoo.

Addie had glanced up and down the street. They were alone, but the Carroway house was on the next block. If a stranger had gotten this close, Emma would know. Dale would've blown the whistle to call all the children home. This woman must have been expected. “You're new here,” Addie said.

“I come now and then.”

Her eyes were weird—heavy lidded, as if she were half-asleep—and there was something else strange about them that Addie couldn't put her finger on. “Do you need help finding the house?” Addie asked. Usually Dale or his son led new refugees in, because it was impossible to locate the house otherwise. Perhaps this woman had arrived early.

The stranger shuffled closer. Instead of answering Addie's
question, she repeated her own: “Do you want what you see in there?”

She meant the candy. “Yes,” Addie said. Why deny it?

“Why don't you take it then?”

It was strange to hear an adult encourage a child to steal, but not all Kin respected the property of Normals. Honesty wasn't what prevented Addie from breaking into the store, and it wasn't the punishment she'd get from Dale, either. Addie turned and pressed her face against the window, trying to put her feelings into words. “It would be cheating and not as good,” she said.

“You don't want the candy,” the old woman concluded. “You want the right to walk in and acquire it like a Normal person.”

Was that it? Addie turned around to answer—and jerked backward. Somehow the old woman had got right up behind her, and now that she was closer, Addie could see what was wrong with her eyes. They were brown. Kin eyes were always blue.

Before Addie could push her away and run, the stranger touched a finger to Addie's temple. Stars exploded in her head; fire coursed through her veins. Then everything went black.

In the darkness, she heard the old woman's voice: “Adelina Emrys, the Eighth Day Spell that binds you to an alternate timeline runs in your veins. You come from a line of spell casters known for the flexibility of their magic. I grant you the ability to combine this talent with the limitless power in your
blood to
see what you want and take i
t
.”

When Addie's vision returned, she found herself sitting on the sidewalk, propped against the candy store wall, alone.

She had told no one what had happened. She didn't know how to describe it, first of all, and she thought she might get in trouble somehow. She'd quickly determined that no new visitors were expected at the Carroway house, and Emma had detected nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn't until the next day—the following week for the Carroways—that Addie learned about the death of Mrs. Stanwell, the elderly Normal who lived next door. According to Emma, the old lady had died of a heart attack on the night between Wednesday and Thursday. Mrs. Stanwell's obituary photograph in the newspaper left no doubt in Addie's mind that she had met a Normal woman on the eighth day—and that the poor woman had died from the strain of whatever she'd experienced.

Even back then, Addie had suspected who'd
really
spoken to her through Mrs. Stanwell's mouth, although she wasn't absolutely certain until the Girl of Crows confirmed it. And by that time, she'd long since realized how the Emrys talent had been altered inside her so that she could see the magic of others—and take it.

Bran ordered them to vacate the warehouse. Because Madoc still believed Dulacs could be tracking Jax through the brownie tunnels, they made the move in warded vehicles.
Wards protected the cars from magical detection but didn't make them invisible. So in the early evening, when Bran commanded the vehicles to stop and everyone to get out on a bridge overlooking a river valley, Madoc argued. “This is madness. We're highly visible here and vulnerable. Two of Condor's men didn't report in today. If they were captured, who knows what they—”

Bran flipped the Spear in his hand and struck Madoc in the head.

The pain of contact with the Spear must have hurt as much as the blow, but Madoc didn't make a sound. He staggered toward the edge of the bridge. “Dad!” Kel screamed. For a second, Addie thought Madoc was going to tumble backward into the river, but he caught the railing, and a moment later, Kel was there to steady him.

“Gather everyone, hand to hand,” Bran said to Condor, turning his back on the Mathonwys.

Addie followed the crowd gathering on the center of the bridge. Griffyn stood beside his father with Evangeline at his side and Ysabel glowering at them from nearby. Jax was pushed into the lineup. When Condor ushered Addie forward, Bran shook his head. “Let Adelina stand aside to watch and learn.”

Evangeline's head whipped around.
Watch and learn what?
Addie could see the question on her sister's face.

“Tomorrow,” Bran called out, “we assault our ancient enemies. But our tomorrow is eight days hence, and knowing
those adversaries will be preparing for our arrival, I wish to send them
a gift
. Vassals, lend me your strength.”

Bran began to speak in Welsh. The sky churned, clouds thickening and darkening overhead. Moments later, Addie felt rain droplets strike her face. Then Bran raised the Spear to the heavens, and power ignited like a bonfire. Griffyn took his father's free hand and mumbled his own incantation. He grabbed Evangeline, drawing her in against her will.

Magic was invisible to most people, but ever since the Old Crone had touched her, Addie had been getting glimpses of it in colors and images. Never before, however, had she seen it so vividly. Bran was a white spear point of intention; Griffyn, a tightly coiled steel spring of fury; and Evangeline, a brilliant orange star of passion and spirit. Addie watched the Aerons join in one by one, some of them mischievous sparks of malice and others destructive balls of fire. There was Ysabel, dark and jealous and deeper than Addie expected. Jax's power flickered as if he was holding back, but then he lost control—his loyalty given over to Bran's spell in a burst of sapphire brilliance while the Sword on his back pulsed with crimson purpose. The brownie on Jax's shoulder leaped off and bolted back to the cars, ears pressed flat against its head.

The rain intensified, drumming against the bridge. It ran down Addie's face, and she put up a hand to shield her eyes. This was not a hurricane. Bran was calling for rain, using the Spear to magnify his power. It was going to rain over this
mountain range—
hard
and
for days.

By the time Bran lowered the Spear, they were all drenched. Rain was coming down so heavily, the water beneath the bridge looked like it was boiling. Jax pushed wet hair out of his eyes, gaping with a stricken expression at what he'd helped create. Evangeline seemed just as upset. As soon as Griffyn let go of her, she pulled Jax into a hug. She looked back at Addie and held out an arm to include her.

Addie didn't move. She didn't need comforting, and she didn't want to answer the questions Evangeline would no doubt ask.
Why did he leave you out? What did he want you to learn?

Her heart was racing. Addie had been seeing and copying talents for a year, but in the presence of the Spear and the Sword, she perceived so much more. Even the oath bonds had been visible to her: the ropes lashing vassals to Bran, the chain that fettered Evangeline to Griffyn, the fierce friendship between her sister and Jax.

This is what Bran wanted me to learn—how the Treasures enhance my gift from the Morrigan.
Addie had already noticed it was easier to copy talents since the Morrigan had repaired the Spear of Lugh, and when she borrowed magic from the Spear, her spells were stronger. Now, Jax had brought her the Sword.

Is Bran going to finally show me the counterspell to the eighth day, now that I might have the strength to cast it?

Bran looked at Madoc, who had joined hands at the end of the line of vassals. Kel hid his sullen expression behind his father's back, but Madoc faced his liege with defeat and servitude.

“
Now
we will seek shelter,” Bran said. “Make sure it's on high ground.”