The Magician's Mistake (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 1) (2 page)

BOOK: The Magician's Mistake (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 1)
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“Siarad,” I said and ran my finger over the bobby pin. It turned into a flame, and I flicked it into the troll circle. The fiery truth-spell floated in the air in front of the trolls. “Who sent you?”

The trolls reared backed from the flame, bumping against the ward.

“Who sent you, Sonja?” I demanded.

She squinted. Her mouth hung open. “There was a package? On our doorstep, a ding-dong-ditch kind of thing, only—”

“It spelled us. Compelled us,” Rona said with her thick, rich voice. “It made us hunt the necklace thing.”

“It gave us a promise of meat. When we found it. Sweet man meat for the necklace. We don’t eat men, not usually, but—”

“Delicious men.” Rona licked her lips.

Sonja reached for my truth spell that hovered before her, and caught it in her fist. The spell made a popping sound as she smashed it.

I sighed. They knew nothing useful. I closed my eyes and studied the room for residuals of magic. Every witch and magician leaves a trace in their magic. I found the spell, like a gray cloud hovering around the trolls. There was something familiar about the magic. I concentrated, and could almost

“You about done there?” the blue-eyed man asked. “It’s a bit cramped in here, lass.”

Growls filled the air. I opened my eyes to see the trolls turn toward the men and throw themselves at the invisible barrier that bound them. My ward bulged and ripped down the middle. With a shimmer of white light, it fell away.

The trolls howled and crouched, a heartbeat away from pouncing on the men who could do nothing to get away from them.

I grabbed a silver hoop earring out of my ear and whispered “
Colli a wedi mynd
.” I blew breath through the hoop at the trolls’ backs, and they sank to the ground. Their faces turned slack and confused. My magic stopped them well enough, but it wasn’t a kind spell: it undid the bidding spell upon them, but in doing so it erased all memories of what had happened over the last few days. Or weeks. Magic wasn’t an exact science.

“You always were good with a forgetting spell,” the blue-eyed man muttered.

I glanced at him.
Always?
And he could read what my spell did? His gaze tried to grab hold of mine again. I scowled. Who was he? What was he?

I knelt and helped Sonja and Rona up. They looked blearily around at my trashed store.

Rona scratched her head. “Hello, Morgan. Nice shop and all, but someone should clean it up. Are we here to clean it up? Our ma always said we were bulls in every shop, but we can try to help.”

Sonja added, “Were we drinking, Rona? I don’t remember drinking.”

“Put your faces on before you go out,” I told them. I went to the register and took out two twenties. I handed one to each of them. “There’s a butcher’s shop two floors up. Tell them I sent you, and you’ll get nice cuts.”

“Our faces. Right. Thanks.” Their features flattened. Their teeth retracted. They didn’t look entirely human, but close enough that no one would hassle them. I hoped.

“We best be off. Sorry?” Sonja said.

Rona nodded. “Not sure why, but it seems I’m sorry, too.”

“Travel well,” I told them and walked them to the door. I grabbed handfuls of lavender dust, and sprinkled their backs with it. It would provide some protection against whoever had sent them here. It sparked and burrowed into their pink and purple dresses.

When they were gone, I turned back toward the men. Lila stood near them with her arms crossed, trying to look stern.

“Now,” I said.

“Yeah,” Lila added.

The werewolf growled and ran his hand over the ward. He sniffed the air and then nodded at Lila, as though he liked what he smelled.

She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Our introductions are long overdue,” the blue-eyed man said smoothly. “Apologies for the rough entrance. This is my mate, Adam, and I’m Kestrel. At your service.” He tipped an imaginary hat toward me.

“Have we met before?” I asked. I studied him and the curve of his sharp jaw, in need of a shave. His hair and eyebrows were almost black, in contrast to his bright eyes. “Do I know you?”

“Most assuredly not, Morgan.” He reached into his pocket.

I tensed. “How do you know my name?”

“It happens to be written above your store, shopkeeper.”

A good answer. “And how can you read spells?”

“I fancy a bit of magic myself.” Kestrel reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. He held it toward me.

It really was the Amulet of Avalon, made with green emeralds and delicate silver metal work that drew vines and leaves across it. It had been made by my grandmother. I had forgotten it even existed. It was much too much of a coincidence that he would come hear bearing this necklace.

I reached for it.

He thrust it back in his pocket. “It’s yours when you break us free of your witch circle and make us a spot of tea.”

My eyes narrowed. I crossed my arms over my chest. “I can keep you there all day.”

“Trolls she treats kindly. She hands them cash and sends them off with protection spells,” he said lightly. “Perhaps if you wolfed out, Adam, she would like us better.”

“Can’t. You know I don’t control it. Full moon’s in two days,” he said.

“A werewolf?” Lila said and looked Adam up and down. She almost managed not to sigh as she took in his muscled torso sculpted beneath a tight, white shirt that set off his brown skin quite nicely. “Let them go, Morgan. They look harmless.”

Kestrel grinned at me. He looked anything but.

“I have plenty of other spells I can use to bind you,” I said as I knelt and broke the rope that circled them.

“Do you offer bondage to all the men who wander through your door, I wonder?” Kestrel asked with a raised eyebrow. “It must be a popular shop.”

“Few men dare to wander in.” I turned away and made coffee and tea. I found myself humming as I poured hot water over the grounds of my old French press, and then poured boiling water into a teapot with some bags of Glengettie tea. Kestrel had spoken truth about one thing: I did enjoy the chaos. How had he known that?

Lila and Adam cleaned up the scattered zines on the floor as they spoke to each other in that rapid-fire way of the young, as though there were too many words and not enough minutes in the day to speak them.

I watched Kestrel as he moved through my store. He was muscled yet lean, like a lion. His jeans were worn almost through at the knees. He ran his long fingers over the books he picked up off the floor as he reshelved them. I finished making the coffee.

We sat around the card table that I used for tarot readings, drinking out of store mugs and eyeing each other.

“Just because things were hectic earlier doesn’t mean they’re the bad guys,” Lila said. “Adam is on leave from U.C. Santa Cruz. He’s studying comparative religion and has some really interesting ideas about Wicca. Kestrel’s helping him learn about being a wolf.”

“Isn’t that the duty of your pack?” I asked.

Adam nodded and sipped coffee from a mug that read,
We Are the Weirdos, Mister.
“Yeah. But I was adopted. And I didn’t know anything about being a werewolf. So there I was at college, howling at the moon and chasing people through the woods. Total berserker. Right on the edge of being a murderer or being put down by animal control or whatever. Next thing I knew I woke up in a silver cage and Kestrel was offering me tea and telling me it was going to be okay and that we all have a bit of wolf in us, but me more than most. He’s taking care of me for now and says I can go back to normal as soon as I—”

“Control the inner beast,” I finished and leveled my gaze at this Kestrel. I gave him a small, approving nod.

He watched me steadily back, focusing all of himself on me.

“And so he brought you to Seattle to steal jewelry and fight trolls? What an excellent mentor,” I said.

Kestrel raised his
Keep Calm and Cast Spells
mug to his lips. “I am wounded by your accusations, lass. We came to Seattle and settled ourselves into an excellent hotel suite because… well, for our own reasons. Through no fault of our own, we were set upon by trolls who tried to steal my amulet and eat us.”

“Where did you get the Amulet of Avalon?” Where and when I had lost it, I had no idea. Stolen, most likely. There was a thriving black market for such things. I glared at him.

“Someone I once loved gave it to me. That I might always remember her. It’s useless to me

only women can use it. I suppose you want it, since I said I would give it to you if you set us free, lady?” He pulled it out of his pocket again.

“There are no ladies here,” I said.
Peasant, wench, woman, witch,
all those names I claimed. But never lady. I reached for the necklace.

This time, he didn’t pull away. Our fingers touched as he gave it to me. Heat flowed from him to me and I had a mad urge to grab him. To hold him. I pressed the amulet to my chest instead.

“Is it magic? It’s magic, right? It looks really old. How does it work?” Lila asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

The Quest

“My…” —
grandmother
— “ancestor made it for women to be able to share their power with each other. There was a need, on their small island, to protect their home.” I leaned over the amulet, staring at its delicate pattern and feeling the deep thrum of the vast emptiness within. “It was a tool for women to give their magic and life force to the best witch on the island, so she could use it to protect them. It hasn’t been used for centuries. It seems some witch would like to change that thought, and doesn’t mind going to great troll-lengths to make it happen.”

“Or magician. It could have been a magician,” Lila said. “The card you drew—”

“No. This is a women’s amulet. Useless to a magician,” I said.

Kestrel nodded, like he knew this already. Did he?

“Who would want to steal this from you?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “I’ve had the thing for years. Hardly even remembered the useless trinket, until the trolls showed up snarling about wanting it and what a tasty treat my bones would make.”

“You’re lucky you came here and got Morgan to protect you. She’s only the world’s greatest witch, pretty much immortal and…” Lila’s voice fell off as she noticed my glare. “And I’m just talking. I talk too much. And say things. That totally aren’t true.”

“Immortal?” Adam asked.

“I believe her full name is Morgan le Fay. Keep up, boy,” Kestrel said.

“You know of me and you knew to come to my store,” I said.

“Know of you? Doesn’t everyone have to read Malory in tenth grade? Then there is the name of your witch store and you mentioned ancestors from Avalon. I can put two and two together.” Kestrel winked at me. “I didn’t come here knowing you were here though, in case you were feeling paranoid. We were running from the trolls, and I felt a pull in this direction. Did the amulet used to be yours? Perhaps it wanted to return to its owner,” he said innocently.

“Perhaps,” I said flatly. “Have you had trouble with other unders since you’ve been in town?” Unders were witches, magicians, fay, and the rest of the freaks of nature who populated this world in secret.

Kestrel shook his head. “Folks seem to keep to themselves here.”

I nodded. It was why I lived in this city in the far corner of the New World. People stayed inside and minded their own business when it rained, and it almost always rained.

Kestrel took a long drink of tea and then sat up straight. “Well, it’s been a happy accident meeting the both of you. Now if you two lasses will excuse us, we’ve a witch to hunt down.” He stood and tipped his imaginary hat at us.

Adam stood as well, giving Lila a lingering look.

I let them take three steps toward the door before I said, “I’m coming with you. No witch comes to my city and attacks my friends and gets away with it.”

“We’re your friends now, are we?” Kestrel asked.

“I meant the trolls.”

“Come along then.” Even though Kestrel was turned from me and I couldn’t see his face, I had a feeling that he somehow knew in my long life I’d never been one to turn away from a quest, small or large.

“Well then I’m coming too, of course,” Lila said. “The young ingenue acolyte needs field experience. Where are we going, anyway?”

“To see the Spaniard,” Kestrel and I said at the same time.

 

 

 

 

 

4

The Spaniard

Diego Antigua got himself cursed five hundred and twelve years ago by crossing Azazel, the demon running Hell at the time. His crime? He befriended a kind-hearted crossroads demon, who led him down to the gates of Hell. Once there, Diego gave lots of doggy treats and belly rubs to Cerberus. Then the Spaniard sauntered into Hell, found his true love, Sofia, who’d been sent there on a technicality, and walked out with her. When Azazel caught up with them, somewhere in Southern Italy, he did what the powerful always do: the lord of Hell made an example of the couple. Sofia got damned to eternal torture, and Diego was bound to walk the Earth and never rest, all the while knowing that his love was in constant, terrible agony. In short: don’t mess with the Lords of Hell.

BOOK: The Magician's Mistake (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 1)
11.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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