The Morrigan's Curse (21 page)

DORIAN'S STRUGGLES GREW WEAKER
as Griffyn held him under water. Ten seconds . . . fifteen seconds. Evangeline sobbed and pleaded for Griffyn to stop. Jax bucked and strained against Ysabel's headlock, but the girl had hands of iron.

Twenty seconds.

The Girl of Crows shuffled forward as if she wanted to see the drowning close at hand. Her black-feathered companions, perched on the lamppost, watched their mistress with glittering eyes. She bent over, reached into the water—

—and emerged with the Sword of Nuadu. When she looked up, it was with the pale face and trembling lips of a frightened girl.

“Let go of my brother,” Lesley Ambrose said in a shaky voice.

Griffyn froze with his mouth hanging open. Perhaps
he was too shocked at being addressed by the Morrigan to respond to her command. His hand remained on the back of Dorian's head.

“Let him go!” Lesley hefted the Sword over her shoulder.
“Now!”

“Griffyn,” said Condor. “You'd better do what she—”

Lesley swung the Sword like a baseball bat and smacked Griffyn in the head with the flat side of the blade. He howled in pain and surged to his feet, releasing Dorian, who floundered before getting his head above water. Jax watched anxiously while his cousin gulped in air, gagged, then doubled over and vomited up water.

Griffyn backed away, holding one hand to the side of his face. Lesley stepped between the brawny Kin and her brother, breathing rapidly and holding the Sword awkwardly in both hands. Her eyes darted around like she was trying to figure out where she was. She gasped when she saw her father, motionless and propped against a lamppost, and her eyes grew wide at the sight of all the Kin watching her. Then her gaze fell on Jax. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered.

“No, Lesley,” Jax called. “This is real. It's good to see you back!”

But was she? How could she touch the Sword if she was just Lesley Ambrose, a dud without even Transitioner talents? It had burned Riley and anyone who'd tried to take it from Jax. He had a bad feeling that only something
as strong as a force of nature could hold it.

Griffyn, on the other hand, was coming to the opposite conclusion. He looked Lesley up and down. “This isn't the Morrigan.” He lunged for her. Lesley shrieked and jumped backward.

Ysabel let go of Jax and stood up. “Griffyn, don't provoke her.”

“It's just a girl. An imposter sent to trick us.” Griffyn made another grab for her.

Lesley tried to hit him again, swinging the Sword like it was a wooden prop in a play. He caught her arm and twisted her around until her back was against his chest. His left hand locked on her right wrist, immobilizing the Sword, and his other hand closed around her throat. He looked at Ysabel and laughed. “The Transitioners keep sending us children. These must be the best warriors they have.” He wrenched Lesley's head back until she was staring up at his face. “What shall I do with you?” he taunted her.

“Griffyn, watch out!” yelled Ysabel.

A crow had launched itself from the lamppost. It stabbed its beak at Griffyn's face, missing his eye by an inch. He let go of Lesley to shield his face from a second crow—and a third. They swirled around his head, jabbing at him with their beaks and raking him with their claws.

“Jax!” Evangeline cried. She had summoned her fireballs and was moving reluctantly toward Griffyn,
compelled by her handmaiden bond to defend him. But her expression said,
Stop me!
Jax didn't need a second hint. He leaped to his feet and tackled Evangeline before she could come between Griffyn and the Morrigan.

It was a good thing he did, because Lesley whirled on Griffyn with a cry of rage—an inhuman screech Jax didn't think his cousin was capable of making. Her clumsy grip on the Sword changed suddenly to something far more competent, and with expert precision, she thrust the blade into Griffyn's chest. He had time to register the shock of being skewered by a fourteen-year-old girl. Then the Morrigan yanked the Sword out, and Griffyn dropped like a stone.

Jax felt Evangeline shudder in relief as her handmaiden bond dissolved.

Ysabel screamed in grief. It was the first time Jax had seen the girl show any emotion. But when she started to run toward her fallen boyfriend, the Morrigan turned, eyes burning with fury, and Ysabel froze.

Dorian, who didn't seem to have the strength to stand or move away, stared up at his sister in terror.

This was not Lesley.

The Morrigan's eyes passed over the group with calculation, as if she was considering using the Sword on the rest of them. When she came to Jax, she held out her free hand.

“The scabbard,” Evangeline whispered. “She wants the scabbard.”

Jax unbuckled the strap across his chest, his fingers fumbling with nervousness. He glanced at Uncle Finn, but it seemed unlikely the Morrigan would allow him to retrieve the magic-suppressing handcuffs. So he approached the Morrigan with only the scabbard—held at arm's length because he didn't want to get any closer than necessary. When she took it from him, he said, “Thank you.”

“Do not presume to thank me.” Her voice was as cold and dark as the grave.

Got it.
Jax dropped his eyes.
Can we have my cousin back?
was probably out, too.

With a rush of air, the Morrigan vanished, taking the crows and the Sword with her.

“Lesley,” Dorian whispered hoarsely.

“That wasn't Lesley,” Jax said, helping him up. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, coughing. “But she's still in there, isn't she?”

“Yeah, she saved you, dude.” Jax pounded his cousin on the back.

Dorian looked at Jax miserably. “I wanted to save
her
.”

A moment later, five of Sloane's vassals burst out of three different brownie holes on the street. They dropped poor Gawan with a tranquilizer before he could react. Condor Aeron, left unprotected, roared like a madman, hurling a fire hydrant and a signpost at the newcomers with
his destructive talent before three darts took him down.

Madoc threw up his hands in surrender. They shot him anyway. One man targeted Kel, but didn't shoot, probably because he was holding Brigit. Another one aimed at Evangeline.

“No!” Jax cried, stepping in front of his liege. “Not her!”

“She was fighting with them.”

“Not by choice, and she's free of them now. But—” Jax looked around. Where was Ysabel?

Evangeline pointed down an alley. “The Arawen girl ran that way, as soon as the Morrigan vanished.” Two of Sloane's men took off after her, while another bent over Uncle Finn, feeling for a pulse and looking under his eyelids. Dorian splashed over to check on his father for himself, but Jax could see that his uncle was beginning to stir. He'd been knocked unconscious, but he was alive.

“The Morrigan vanished?” repeated Albert Ganner, leader of the Dulac security force. “You mean we missed her? What happened?” He looked at Griffyn's body lying facedown in the street and nudged it with his foot. The sleeves of Griffyn's white shirt billowed in the water.

That's what I saw the Washer Woman rinsing in the river.
A shiver ran up Jax's spine. “He tried to kill Dorian, and Lesley stopped him. Why didn't you guys show up sooner?”

Evangeline looked down at Griffyn with revulsion. Then, to Jax's surprise, she rolled his body over and started searching his pockets.

“We jumped here through the tunnels as soon as the Morrigan attacked Finn,” Ganner said, “but it looks like there was a gap in time for us.” He pointed a thumb at the brownie riding on his shoulder. “I'm not convinced these things are as smart as Pendragon says they are.”

Oh, they were smart all right. They knew better than to show up while the Morrigan was in a murderous fury. They had jumped Ganner and his men ahead to a time when she was already gone. Which reminded Jax . . .

No sooner did Jax think of him than Stink dropped onto Jax's shoulder from nowhere. “Well, thanks for sending in the rescue team. But I told you to go to Addie!”

Stink cocked his head quizzically.

“Take us to her, now!” Evangeline had found what she wanted on Griffyn's body—the hilt of a dagger and a broken-off blade that went with it—but when she stood up, Albert Ganner took her arm.

“You're not going anywhere,” he said. “Sorry, Jax. Now that I've got one Emrys heir out of two, I'm not letting her go back to the Llyr leader—or you, either, for that matter.”

“Stink will do it,” Jax said with more confidence than he felt. “Go get her, Stink. Bring Addie to us.” Stink leaped
off his shoulder and vanished, and Jax tried to summon a reassuring smile for Evangeline.

I'll think about it,
Addie had said when Jax asked if she'd follow Stink. He hoped that was just Addie being Addie—that she'd welcome the chance to escape Bran Llyr.

Because he was really worried about what she might be doing right now.

THE LAST PLACE ADDIE
wanted to be was back on the water tower, but—here she was. There'd been a lurch, and instead of sitting in a bubble of magic, she was standing on what was left of the walkway around the tank.

The brownies had deposited her behind Bran, who was looking over the railing where Addie had fallen. Had he seen her drop into a brownie hole, or did he think she was dead? It didn't matter. She had maybe two seconds before he turned around and saw her.

Addie concentrated on locating the Stone and the Sword, rapidly drawing in their magic. The Stone of Fal was familiar now, passionate and protective. The Sword of Nuadu was hateful, tasting like fury and hungry for blood. Their combined potential staggered her.
I am vengeance,
Addie thought.
I protect the Kin.

She saved the Spear for last. As soon as she called on its
focus and obsession, Bran sensed her presence and whirled around. “Miss me?” she asked.

His face darkened with anger. “That was a clever trick,” he said, “but vermin can't save you if you cross me again.” Bran held the Spear out in preparation for calling something new and terrible down upon her. “You
will
submit to my authority!”

She laughed. Submit? With the stolen power of three Treasures, Addie thought she was more than a match for a Kin lord who fancied himself a weather god. She rushed forward and clamped her own hand on the Spear of Lugh.

Bran's eyes widened. He tried to pull it away from her, but Addie willed the Spear to stay where it was, and
it obeyed
. “Thanks for torturing me with it so many times,” she said, grinning. “The pain doesn't bother me anymore.”

Then she yanked it out of his hands.

Five minutes ago, she hadn't been positive she could do it. But with the magic of the Treasures vibrating inside her, it was impossible to imagine failing. Addie had attuned herself to the Spear through repeated contact. It was confused, no longer sure of its true master. She backed away from the Llyr lord as the new possessor of the Spear of Lugh.

For a second, Bran looked shaken, but he recovered quickly. “You are a presumptuous child, swollen with stolen magic like a blood-filled tick, but still a child. You don't know who you're dealing with.”

Bran held up his hand as if to call lightning down upon her. Addie didn't know if he meant to kill her or frighten her into submission, but the biting power of the vengeful Sword of Nuadu prompted her to defend herself. She snapped her fingers. It was the same gesture that had caused Bran to mock her for
playing with matches.
This time, all the coarse, woolen clothing on his body caught fire.

The old man howled. He beat at the flames with one hand. With his other, he summoned rain. But neither act was going to do him any good, because he also staggered backward off the edge of the broken walkway, his face frozen in disbelief as he went over. Addie watched him fall through the fog. No brownie hole opened up to catch him.

Intention. Protection. Vengeance. That's me.

Power thrummed through her body, demanding her attention. Addie dismissed the Llyr lord from her mind and surveyed the river valley with her enhanced sight. The woven strands of the Eighth Day Spell were more visible than ever, although they didn't look as unassailable as they had before. Not with the magic of
three
Treasures inside her. Not with the Spear of Lugh in her hand. The only question was where to start.

Should she unravel the spell—pick it apart thread by thread?

Or punch a hole right through it?

Addie smiled grimly.
Let's face it. I'm not very patient.
The
Spear was heavy and several inches taller than she was, but she raised it over her head, preparing to tear the hated spell to pieces.

Above the water tank, half a dozen black crows circled against the backdrop of a purple eighth-day sky, then dropped one by one to perch on broken pieces of the wooden railing.

The Morrigan, wearing her Girl of Crows body, had appeared on the platform near the place where Bran had gone over. She'd come to see the Spell dismantled, which wasn't surprising, considering how she'd overseen almost every step that had brought Addie to this point. What made Addie's heart lurch, however, were the objects in the Morrigan's hands—a scabbard with a leather harness and the Sword of Nuadu.

Jax's Sword.

Whirling around, Addie sought out the individual strands of the Eighth Day Spell and saw that her sister's anchor was still there. But what about the boy who was supposed to be guarding her? Addie couldn't pick him out among the strands of hundreds of Transitioners.

Addie turned back to the Morrigan. “Where's Jax?” she demanded. “How did you get the Sword?” Jax had drawn it and then lost it somehow. What did that mean for Evangeline? “Is my sister in danger?”

“You have the power of three Treasures within you, Adelina Emrys. Just as planned.” The Morrigan's dark eyes
were vacant and hollow in the face of her girl host. “The time has come for you to fulfill your destiny.”

“Not until you answer my questions!” Addie had never handled a spear before, but she knew what to do with the pointy end. She swung the heavy thing down and held it level with her hips, aimed at the Morrigan. The Sword's desire for vengeance churned inside her. If the Morrigan had hurt her sister or their vassal . . . well, deity or not, she was going to see what
Addie's
vengeance looked like!

“You dare to threaten me, presumptuous girl?”

It was chilling to hear the dire warning in that voice while the body and face of the speaker remained blank, like a sleepwalker's. But Addie refused to be cowed. “The last person to call me that went over the side,” she snapped. “I'm going to ask you again: What happened down there?” The Morrigan had made Addie into a vessel for the power of all the Treasures combined. Now she was going to have to deal with what she'd created!

“The boy completed his task.” Addie thought it had to be a measure of her own importance that the Morrigan actually answered her. “You must complete yours. The power of the Sword will fade now that it is satisfied. Act quickly, before it is too late.”

The Sword was satisfied? Then, as Addie had suspected, Jax hadn't really invoked it against a nameless parade of enemies. There'd only been one target all along, and based on how the Sword had pulsed in the presence of one particular
person—and how hard Jax had fought against its allure—Addie knew who it must have been.

Griffyn Llyr was dead, and Evangeline was free.

Addie grinned, rotating the Spear back to its upright position. “Good riddance to the Llyrs,” she said. “The world is better off.”

“Break the Spell now, and your people will have all the happiness you desire for them,” the Morrigan said. “You will be their savior.”

Addie liked the sound of that. The Kin could come out of hiding. They could have everything Normals had—libraries and candy stores and lives that didn't skip across time like a stone skimming a pond. The protective instincts of the Stone of Fal swelled within her. Addie had been the one chosen to end the exile of her people and win them the happiness they deserved.

If you call it winning when you've been chosen by an evil goddess of destruction and chaos.

Addie blinked. Jax had said those words back when they saw the Washer Woman. Why was she remembering his sarcastic comment
now
, when she was on the verge of getting what she wanted?

Because it wasn't like the Morrigan to deliver happiness. That wasn't her function.

Addie gripped the Spear tightly and narrowed her eyes at the being sharing this platform with her. It wore the body of a teenage girl, some Normal probably stolen from her bed
the same way old Mrs. Stanwell had been stolen when the Crone appeared to Addie in Vermont. Poor Mrs. Stanwell hadn't survived it. What was going to happen to this girl? For the first time, Addie wondered who she was, who was missing her, whose lives would be bereft without her.

Behind the blankness of those eyes, was she screaming silently in terror? In warning?

On the other side of the river, the mountainside was in flames. Addie assumed the Aerons were still wreaking a path of destruction through the forest, and by the gunfire rumbling in the distance, the Transitioners were fighting them. Down in the valley, Addie's sister was alive and free of Griffyn, but what about Condor and Ysabel? Was Evangeline at their mercy? And the Morrigan hadn't actually said Jax was okay, just that he'd done his job.

The Morrigan was sounding more and more like Bran, manipulating Addie with a mix of truth and lies. There were no candy stores and libraries on offer here. The Morrigan was the Morrigan and she always wanted the same thing. Death. Chaos. Turmoil.

The powers of
protection
and
intention
warred within Addie, and her uncertainty must have shown on her face, because the Morrigan's words grew more forceful. “Break the spell, Adelina. The time has come for you to pay for the gift you were given.”

“You're not supposed to pay if it's a
gift
,” Addie argued.

The Morrigan snarled like an animal, contorting the face
of the Normal girl. As the howl wound down, her lips peeled back against her teeth, and she hissed, “Do as you are told!”

Addie had heard that command many times in her life, and her reaction to it was always the same. “No.”

For once in her life, it was more than just contrariness prompting an automatic response. This time, Addie understood that if she did what she was told, the Kin—and the Transitioners—and the Normals—were
all
going to suffer for it.

The water tower shook with the Morrigan's rage. The crows launched themselves upward in alarm, their wings flapping frantically. Addie braced herself with the Spear to keep from losing her footing.

“You
want
to break the Spell!” the Morrigan exclaimed.

“Yes, but not if
you
want it this much,” Addie said. “I guess you should have picked someone more obedient. Or more easily fooled.”
Although I was fooled. For way too long
.
Her hand ached from gripping the Spear tightly in anger and disappointment. After all she'd been through, she wasn't going to get what she wanted! Or what she
thought
she had wanted . . .

“You
are
a fool.” The Morrigan's expression had returned to a deathlike vacancy that was somehow all the more foreboding after her display of fury. She sheathed the Sword of Nuadu.

With a sinking feeling, Addie realized that the vengeful magic of the Sword had left her. It had gone dormant now. And her hand was stinging not because of how tightly she
was gripping the Spear of Lugh, but because it was starting to reject her. She had stolen it from Bran when she thought she wanted to break the Eighth Day Spell, but she wouldn't do that on the Morrigan's orders. She didn't know what she wanted anymore, and the Spear would never accept an owner without a purpose.

As for the Stone of Fal—Addie tried to cling to its warm power, but who was she trying to protect? Her people? Her sister? Her vassal? It occurred to Addie, as the Stone's magic slipped away, that she'd be lucky if she could protect herself. Moments ago, she'd been full of limitless potential, capable of taking on the Morrigan. Now she was just a foolish girl who hadn't thought things through before defying a goddess.

The platform jerked beneath Addie's feet and the entire water tower started to shake like it was coming apart. Addie hung on to the Spear in spite of the pain radiating up her arm and grabbed the railing for balance. Over a hundred feet below, the stagnant floodwater she'd trudged through to get here had become a raging torrent beating deliberately against the support legs of the tower.

Addie backed away from the Morrigan, who simply watched her with a knowing smile and a malevolence as old as time. The ladder was on the other side of the tank, but Addie couldn't climb down into that churning water, even if the structure lasted long enough for her to do so. The tower was coming down, and Addie was trapped.

Then the air shimmered above the walkway, and a
single brownie dropped onto the wooden planks and bolted straight for Addie, ears plastered unhappily against his head as if he knew exactly what was standing behind him. Addie didn't need the telltale white tuft to recognize him. Jax had sent his pet for her, just like he promised he would.

The Morrigan didn't stir, but one of her crows dived for the brownie, its outstretched claws narrowly missing his head. More of the crows flew at him, trying to spear him with their beaks while Stink darted back and forth, dodging them. He could have popped out of danger the same way he'd arrived. Addie had seen him do that before. But he didn't do it now. Stink was coming for Addie because Jax had sent him, and the brownie was as loyal as his master.

Addie charged forward. “Get away from him, you filthy crows!” She swung the Spear of Lugh at the hovering birds, hoping to bash them out of the sky. But the Spear was too heavy, and the pain of holding on to it had become too great. When the wooden shaft knocked against the water tank, her hands, numbed and clumsy, lost their grip. The Spear slipped between the tank and the walkway and vanished into the water below.

Addie barely registered its loss before Stink leaped into her arms. She squeezed his warm body—a welcome antidote to the cold, searing pain of the Spear—and the brownie squealed in protest. Or maybe he was squealing because the water tank was looming over their heads . . . and the platform was
tilting wildly . . . and the Morrigan's crows were flying straight for them. “Get us out of here, Stink!” she shrieked.

The brownie tried to twist free of her hands. But Addie was afraid to let go. She hung on, closed her eyes, and pitched into the empty sky with him.