Rise of the Magi Read online

  He saluted with a snide grin, confusing me as to whether he was annoyed or amused. Probably both since that’s all he seemed to be, lately. “Yes, ma’am. I might not be the brightest bulb in this joint, but security’s my bag. She hasn’t gone out.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Andrew.” I strode off, shaking my head to his, “Better than being a dumb-ass,” retort.

  Once outside on the steps, I stopped and inhaled. Iress. Honeysuckle and roses. The scent of home. A place where my heart finally breathed a sigh of relief and quieted after searching for such an elusive place for so long. Sweet, heady, calming better than any drug humans had concocted to fry their brains. As I allowed it to unfurl my clenched muscles, I decided the situation warranted using my Sight of the Goddess.

  Since I’d forced a melding of darkness and Light in myself, and in the rest of the fae in the city to fight the Shadowborn, using my Sight put a greater drain on my power for reasons even Gallagher hadn’t deciphered. Not to mention touching others through metaphysical means had become a much more overwhelming experience than before.

  Brígh thought it had something to do with my inner self being more like an open field than the dark, tangled forest it once was, particularly before the elves of Freymoor Wood had gotten a hold of me, and that I gave more of myself in everything I did. Fewer places to hide, or something like that. I told her she was nuts, but I didn’t have a better explanation, so I ignored it.

  The best place for me to evoke my Sight was in the heart of Iress. Not an indoor Court like we’d had in Dun Bray, but a garden that had grown after I’d killed Alastair, the Magi’s obedient otherworldly assassin who’d stolen hundreds of human souls to hunt me. Or so I’d thought. It had all been a ploy to make me accept my darkness and open myself to unimaginable power. For what purpose, I still had no idea, but it scared me, whatever it was.

  Doing my best to greet the fae I passed walking along the cobblestone, and uttering short “hellos”, I sped toward the Court and wished with all my might that Brígh would be okay.

  2

  Beyond the gates of the Court, I found my favorite place—a garden lush with wildflowers and shiny black trees topped with feather-soft pink foliage that swayed back and forth despite there being no breeze. They reminded me of tufts of sea grass dancing in the current, hypnotic and soothing. Hundreds of small, grassy platforms were arranged on the stadium-like hill leading down to where Liam’s and my dais—a mound overflowing with tiny white star flowers and Talawen’s leafless cherry tree—sat in the middle.

  Down near the front, Gallagher lay on his back on one of the smaller daises, his black fingers linked together over his stomach. Wrinkles covered his tweed suit, and his bowtie lay askew as if he’d been tugging at it.

  Worried he might add even more issues to my list, I padded over to him and stared down at my old pain-in-the-ass friend. His closed lids fluttered, suggesting some internal pain or unpleasant thought. I didn’t bother reaching out mentally to him, though. He could shield better than any of us, except Brígh. “Did you sleep here?”

  He sprang up like a launched rocket, choking on breath. “By the spirits, Lila Gray. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Facing skyward, he pounded a fist to his chest.

  I arched a brow at him, my concern ratcheting up. “You’re a telepath. You usually know where I am every second of the day, even before I do.”

  He huffed and smoothed out his suit, patted his white dreads flat and picked out a few bits of grass from them. “Yes, well, I have been trying to reach my protégé for an update on our surveillance team in Talawen’s wood but haven’t been able to reach her since last night. Such concentration steals my local senses for a time.”

  I held up my hand. “Hold that thought. Brígh’s missing, and I need to deal with her first. As soon as I’m done,”—I pointed my finger back and forth between us—“you, me and Liam have a date.”

  Rubbing a hand over his chin, he opened his mouth but shut it again. Weariness dragged at his features. It couldn’t have been good that dark circles dug deep under his eyes, especially on almost black skin. “Very well. And you’ll tell me about what troubles her then?”

  That he didn’t already know shocked me all to hell. He was quite the busybody most of the time. Too wound up to do anything else, I nodded and continued to my dais, where I faced the sky and spread my arms. “Goddess, lend me your Sight.”

  From within, a mental ripple spilled out of me and swept Iress, more something I knew in my soul than what I could see, except for the momentary flutter of the pink feather leaves before they went back to their rhythmic dance. Moments passed before my Sight hijacked a bird, images from far above returning to me from its sharp eyes, the picture clearer than ever before as if I’d become the bird.

  We passed over Iress, a beautiful rainbow mosaic of houses, paths and tropical gardens. In the distance, a patchwork of farmlands the chefs from the Black City had been working on spread like a never-ending natural quilt. With the hour still early for most, only a few fae wandered outside their homes, puttering at one thing or another. In a circular pattern, outward from the garden where my physical body stood, I guided the bird in search of my friend. Over thousands of rooftops we went, searching for any movement. After fifteen minutes, my worry stole away the one shred of patience I owned.

  My legs wobbled as a nauseating wave of exhaustion hit. It seemed to be all or nothing with me lately; I couldn’t give only a little when it came to using that particular ability anymore. I expected, one day, the bird might just fly off with my spirit and leave my body an empty husk.

  Pulling my Sight back, I slowed my breathing and readied my mind and body to be flooded with life and thought that wasn’t my own. My Light flared white around me. It flashed over Gallagher, who’d laid back down on one of the daises with a strange look on his face. Wonder? A tired sort of interest? He was much stronger at mind screwing people than I was, so I didn’t understand why anything I could do would impress the old fart.

  I flexed my senses and allowed my power to flow out through my feet, into the ground, through my skin, and into the air as I called out for her, emptying myself until I remained a shell—an anchor for my energy that roamed the land. “Where are you, Brígh?”

  Hundreds of minds woke, their surprise prickling my nape. Fear and curiosity bubbled into me. Fighting to focus through the crowd growing in my head, I lowered to my knees on the grass and pushed out harder. I hopped from head to head, whizzing through minds with the speed of a laser. Some sang in the shower. A few were in mid-bite of their breakfast toast and eggs. Others jumped apart from bedroom activities. Oops. I muttered mental apologies and jettisoned farther. When Brígh’s snarled mess of a mind slammed into me, the force of it knocked the air from my lungs.

  “Stay out!” She expelled me with force. I fell on my face and lost my connection to her innermost sanctuary.

  I held tight to her peripheral senses, pushing out harder to look through her eyes. She ran, and by her even breaths, she’d just begun. Who was she running from?

  “You,” she thought at me. “Leave me alone, Lila. I mean it.”

  Why would she run from me? Memories of the dream haunted me, and I slammed my mental door shut on them. “Have you met me?” I injected my thoughts into hers and laughed, hoping it would ease her back from the edge she stood upon, but she only fought me harder and grew angrier, prickly fire eating at my skull. I’d never seen her angry before, and I never wanted to see it again. “Talk to me, dammit!”

  “No. Stay away!”

  When I recognized the pink shutters on Neve and Andrew’s place, I realized she ran along the street toward the home she and Cas shared. Senses returning to my body, I sped out of the Court and hopped the gate, Gallagher gasping behind me. Probably not the brightest move considering I was five months pregnant.

  Shifters awakene
d, blinking their window eyes at me as I passed without greeting—an unusual occurrence for me.

  As I approached Brígh’s bungalow, Neve beat me up the front walk and pounded on the door, her white tank top hanging off one shoulder. “Let me in right now, or I swear I’ll kick in your fucking door. I’m your sister, God dammit. Tell me what’s going on!”

  I approached and put a hand on Neve’s shoulder. Her blue Light flared, searing my fingers. She whirled to me, her fae eyes blazing, nostrils flared, chest heaving. Most of her pink hair was secured in a high pony tail, but the springs that had come loose made her look almost wild.

  The sight of her stalled my breath for a few beats. “Let me,” I said softly, filtering away some of her darkness into myself, like swallowing a sulphur fog out of a volcano.

  Neve glared at me for a few seconds, her hands wrapping around her basketball-sized belly, before she dropped her gaze and nodded. The tension in her shoulders eased, lowering their hunch. Her breath shuddered out on a sigh.

  I understood her fear—for the little one she carried. Thoughts of our uncertain future scorched me, too, right where it hurt down in my foundation.

  Instead of trying to convince Brígh to open the door, I placed my hand on the wall of the fuchsia shifter and let my intent fill my thoughts. “Let me help her.” The creature trembled as if feeling whatever pained Brígh and opened a hole for me to step through.

  The small, open-concept home, simply furnished in white and red with pine trim, appeared the same as the last time I’d been there. Clothing dotted the living room as if she and Cas dressed in a hurry that morning. A half-carved block of wood he’d been turning into a horse sat on the table. For the child he hoped for? What had happened to their fairytale happiness?

  Sniffling drew my gaze to the white sofa. Brígh lay curled in a ball on her side, her mass of cotton candy pink curls tumbling over her face. Her pale lavender sundress sported enough tear stains on the bodice that she must have been crying for hours.

  “I told you to stay out,” she said with little conviction, her voice thick with emotion.

  I knelt by her head, spreading her hair so I could see her eyes, finding them bright and full of terror as if she’d just returned from a stint in one of my nightmares. “If you thought I’d listen, then you seriously need your head read, Pinky.”

  The sight of her wet face, contorted from some internal agony, punched a fist into my center. Desperate to do something, I sat beside her on the sofa and pulled her against me. Like a little girl, she scrambled into my lap and hunched in on herself, sobbing.

  For a long time, I held her, stroking her back, uncertain what to do. Afraid to ask. Afraid to know what would have affected her so profoundly. If she’d been anyone else, I could have shared her pain, taken it into myself, but as a Seer, Brígh could keep me out with ease, and usually did. I hummed the song from my mother’s music box until she calmed and relaxed against me, swaying to the melody.

  Flaming hell. My sinking stomach clued in that we’d gone from bad to worse. “This isn’t about Cas, is it?” I asked on a near whisper. “This is something more, something much more.”

  Brígh snuffled and raised her head from my shoulder, running her arm across her eyes. “I snotted all over you.” Her failed laugh sounded more like she barked or maybe choked.

  “Don’t change the subject. You’re scaring the bajeepers out of me here.”

  Aided by a few grunts, she shuffled out of my lap, tucked her skirt under her feet, and hugged her knees beside me, chin wedged between them. Her rocking motion cranked up my alarm even more.

  “You’re killing me here.” I turned to her, but she still didn’t look at me. What could have set her off so badly? Oh. A vision, of course. “Have you Seen something?”

  Her rocking ceased, and she went rigid, remaining so still I wondered if she’d lost consciousness until she blinked. “They’ve forbidden me to tell you.” Her voice came out a mouse squeak.

  I bristled, got up and crouched in front of her again so she’d be forced to meet my stare. “Who has?” Who thought they had authority over Liam and me?

  She blasted out a scoffing sound, her blue eyes turning cold and as hard as a frog pond in the dead of winter. “The Overseers, who else? Geez, Lila. Have you been on the moon?”

  I glowered at her, taken aback by her uncharacteristic swipe at me. I had been on a moon receiving some more head-shrinking sessions with Laerni, actually, or whatever planet the elves were from, but I didn’t think bringing that up would help matters. “And you don’t agree with their decision?”

  “Ya think?”

  I sat mountain-still as I considered what the Overseers had done. My muscles coiled that the knowledge sitting in that head of hers had been locked there by a bunch of old fuddy-duddies I hadn’t so much as laid eyes on. No time like the present to change that. Once my throat loosened, I said, “If your vision affects this city, the fae, or this Magi situation, then I don’t care who forbade it, you have to tell me.” At Brígh shrinking in on herself even farther, I reconsidered and asked, “What are the consequences if you tell me?”

  Raising her head from her knees, she seemed to ponder that for a moment, confused expressions passing over her face. “They’ll take away my Sight.”

  Could they even do that? Wasn’t that the Goddess’ job to bless and rescind?

  Brígh nodded as if coming to terms with something. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. For this, it’ll be worth the price. If you can really change it.”

  Losing her gift would devastate her. Guilt chewed at me.

  Liam popped his head through the door, but I held up a hand and said, “Give us a minute, okay?” through our bond and left myself open for him to listen in. He offered a sympathetic smile and retreated, a reminder of why I loved him to pieces. No questions, no demands, I just asked, and he trusted me to take care of everything.

  Afraid of breaking whatever little moment Brígh had slipped into, I climbed onto the cushion beside her and waited, screaming inside for her to spill it.

  After a few agonizing minutes, that could have been a decade if my frantic perception had been doing the measuring, she finally said, “I can’t see my future.” She shook her head, sending her pink ringlets shifting across her pale, bare arms. “Nothing beyond the next few days or so. Zilch.” Hand flying in the air, she added, “I can’t have a baby with Cas. I waited so long to meet him, and now we’re going to be ripped apart before we’ve barely begun. This fucking blows.”

  Unable to swallow the barbed wire from my throat, I stared at her. “I don’t care what you saw, it must be wrong. And if it’s not, I’ll change it if I have to hide you under my bed for the next century.” I all but growled. “You’re not going to die, do you hear me?” I paused to allow my heart to slow lest it splatter all over my guts, and fought the urge to plow my fist through the nearest hard surface. “What happens if you try to see anything else? Like, what’s threatening you? Is it the Magi?” I went stone cold again, waiting for the truth to crush me.

  Her feet slid off the cushion and landed with a pop on the floor. Like a zombie, her head swiveled to me, lashes wet and eyes devoid of their usual zing and spark. “Whenever I try to See anything beyond the next few weeks, all I see are trees. The rivers run scarlet with blood. The great lakes are nothing but red wounds. Pain echoes against the hills, carried within piteous wails from near and far. And the world is swallowed by green … fucking … trees, like a plague of locusts devouring a cornfield. The rest of the human world, the elves, selkies, and the fae will all fall before the first autumn leaf hits the ground. We’re all dead.” The last, she said in a tone that reeked of prophesy, low and even, detached.

  “Shit.” Liam voiced my own thoughts in my head.

  My cheeks burned with shame over the distant relief that she hadn’t mentioned me delivering d
eath in her vision. Maybe what I saw when I slept were just dreams after all and not warnings of the future.

  How could I stop it? The Magi were veritable ghosts, flitting in and out of existence while leaving no trace behind except mangled, half consumed bodies. Remembering how I’d found Galati, and nearly killed her while attempting to separate her from the tree trying to consume her, a deep shiver rattled from my fingertips to toes. Time was running out. We either had to find the Magi or die.

  3

  Cas slipped through the door, gaze fixed to the floor like a dog waiting to be beaten. I tugged Brígh off the sofa and brought her to her unofficial mate—the Goddess had yet to bond them officially, but, as I kept reassuring her, it was only a matter of time; nobody rushed the woman. Brígh resisted my pull for a moment, but when I took Cas’ hand and slipped hers into it, she collapsed against him.

  My tendencies had always leaned toward suffering in silence until I exploded all over the problem, but I’d recently discovered—since Liam and Laerni had entered my life—how unburdening it could be to spread the misery around a tad.

  “Tell him, Brígh.” Don’t be like I used to be. Somehow uttering words to a sympathetic ear made everything seem not as bad. Maybe it was delusion—all in my head. I didn’t care. It worked. Even though Cas wouldn’t know what I was talking about, to him I added, “I won’t let anything happen to her. You didn’t do anything wrong, and don’t take no for answer until she spills her guts, no matter how hard it is to hear. I have to talk to … oh, hell, everyone I can find, I guess.”

  A tiny smile arched Cas’ lips as he guided Brígh back to the sofa, talking softly to her. They’d be okay. We all would, or I didn’t deserve to hold my station as queen of the fae. Too bad I didn’t have a clue how to start fixing the mess we were in.

  Head hanging forward, I exited the bungalow. Liam paced on the front walk, hands gesturing. Mutterings tumbled from his moving lips. He looked as close to exploding as I’d ever seen him. At least he’d put some clothes on: a pair of dark jeans and a blue plaid short-sleeved button down.