The Morrigan's Curse (5 page)

INTRODUCTIONS WERE MADE FOR
Jax's benefit. The elderly woman was Carlotta Lyonnesse. Ash Pellinore was the name of the bearded guy. Roger Sagramore was the cross-eyed man, and the man seated next to Sloane was Oliver Bors.

Bors.
Jax recognized the name, but his visit to the Dulac clan was hazy in his mind, thanks to the fix Tegan had arranged for his memory. It wasn't until Sloane whispered in Bors's ear again that Jax remembered Ursula Dulac had been married to a Bors and some of her sons had inherited her husband's talent. Oliver Bors must be Sloane's uncle.

Jax had expected more people to be here. According to Melinda Farrow, his tutor in all things magical, most of Arthur's knights and a lot of lords and ladies had participated in the casting of the Eighth Day Spell. But, as Pellinore had pointed out, families died out over fifteen centuries—or diverged into new talents in a magical
version of evolution. Jax wondered how much further this elite group could dwindle before the branch-off Transitioners stopped allowing them to make decisions for everyone—and whether that might be a good thing. After all, as Carlotta had said, their only qualification was having a direct ancestor present at a specific historic (and magic) event.

I'll bet Mr. Crandall would be a better leader than Sloane Dulac!

The nine Transitioner bloodlines represented here today were the only ancient ones left in the U.S., but there was apparently another group operating independently in the U.K. “They've promised support in the way of money and resources,” Bedivere said of the British version of the Table. “None of them have offered to come in person.”

“In other words,” muttered Roger Sagramore, “‘Better you than us and good luck.' They must feel like they dodged a bullet, having the Llyrs come here instead of wreaking havoc there.”

“I hardly think they ‘dodged a bullet.' Scores of men were killed defending Oeth-Anoeth,” Bedivere said.

“Our first task is finding the Llyrs,” Sheila Morgan said. “To that end, we need to identify the Kin responsible for breaking them out and transporting them across the ocean—
and
locate their base of operations.”

“I can't believe you missed them in New York!” interjected Roger Sagramore. “You had seven days to prepare a dragnet to catch them when we knew where they were!”

“We didn't miss them,” Sheila said, her face stiff. “I lost two teams confronting the Llyrs. It was only by chance that my daughter wasn't aboard one of those crafts. What did
you
risk in the search, Roger?”

When Roger Sagramore clamped his thin lips together and said nothing, Sheila looked away with disdain. “From our previous meeting, you already have the specs on the military aircraft that assaulted Oeth-Anoeth.” Everyone nodded, including Riley—which made it clear to all the Table members, if they hadn't already figured it out, that Riley had been secretly receiving information from the Morgans while the rest of them presumed he was dead. “We found a hangar in Greenland that served as their intermediate stop before they arrived in North America. I have a squadron stationed there, in case they return to it. Now, this is what we saw them leaving New York with.”

Sheila Morgan passed out images she'd printed from Google. “They used a twin-engine prop plane, possibly a de Havilland. We're currently scouring the U.S. for this plane, which must be resting somewhere during the seven days they can't use it, but a de Havilland doesn't need a big runway, and it could be hidden somewhere as small as a barn.”

While Jax pondered the immensity of searching for a plane that could be stashed almost anywhere, Sheila continued, “These Kin clearly have a small fleet of aircraft, and there's no telling if we've seen them all. So, if any of
you intend to fly on the eighth day, file your plans with me. My people will shoot down unidentified planes and ask questions later.”

Jax sat up in alarm, but Sagramore beat him to a protest. “You can't do that!”

Ash Pellinore grunted in amusement. “There go your drug-smuggling runs, Roger.”

“Ash, you mangy dog—”

“Go ahead. Deny it in front of Gloria Kaye,” Pellinore dared him.

Sagramore shot Mrs. Crandall a wary glance. For the first time since Mrs. Crandall's brother had died, they had a truth teller among them.

“It would make me very, very sad to shoot down fellow Table members by accident,” Sheila said, sounding like she meant the exact opposite. “For everyone's safety, notify me if you plan to travel by air.”

“What about my liege lady's sister? What if—” Jax began.

“They have more than just planes,” Sloane interrupted him. “My clan had a run-in with Kin teenagers in a Hummer the week before the breakout. We tracked them down after they set fire to a number of cars over several eighth days. One of them was the Emrys girl, which is why
we're
convinced she's in league with the enemy.” She shot Jax a triumphant look.

He answered her with a glare, then exchanged glances
with Riley. This was the first time they'd heard how the Dulacs had captured Addie in the first place, and even Jax had to admit it didn't sound good.
Whose side is she on?
From the expression on Riley's face, he must have been wondering the same thing.

“Based on eyewitness accounts from Wales, we're also dealing with Aerons,” Sheila Morgan said. “They're the only Kin known to tattoo themselves.”

“I want to know how Kin got their hands on military aircraft and Hummers,” said Ash Pellinore. “Most of them live on the streets or in the houses of Normals, leeching food and shelter. How did these Kin gather the resources to mount an assault on Oeth-Anoeth, and how did they coordinate it? What are they using for communication? Ham radio?”

“Scrying,” Jax suggested.

“You can't send a message through scrying,” Oliver Bors said. “It's only for observation.”

“Unless you schedule it on both ends and bring notepads and pencils,” Jax pointed out. “Then it's a video call with a chat box.”

Everyone stared at Jax.
Well, duh,
he wanted to say.
Didn't you think of that?

Sloane cleared her throat. “My father is trying to track down Wylit's heirs in Romania. Wylit led the last two attempts to break the Eighth Day Spell.”

“I don't think they're involved,” Riley said. “Miller
Owens infiltrated Wylit's clan for me and was observing them for months before the pyramid incident. Wylit had no contact with any other Kin during that time, including his own family. He was working alone. Miller made very sure of this, because we wanted to identify any collaborators.”

“So,” Pellinore grunted. “You weren't just cowering in a hidey-hole these past few years.”

“No sir,” Riley said. “I was doing the job my father left me as best I could.”

“We can't entirely discount the Wylits,” said Bedivere. “I'm not surprised Aerons are involved—we've all had unpleasant encounters with them over the years. But they're a disorganized, unruly mob. I don't believe they could have spearheaded this venture or acquired the resources to pull it off. Nor do I believe a child could lead them, even if she is an Emrys. We're overlooking someone important.” Now he turned to Jax. “There
were
collaborators who escaped the raid on the Emrys house thirty-five years ago, which is the last time multiple Kin clans organized against us. Perhaps the current Emrys clan leader can give us the names we're lacking.”

“She was only eleven at the time,” Riley pointed out.

“Eleven-year-olds have sharp eyes and ears. If she wants to prove her loyalty to this council, she can give us the names of the Kin who conspired with her father.”

Jax looked at Riley for guidance and, when he nodded,
answered accordingly. “If she knows any names, I'm sure she'll tell you.”

“Finding their base is our number-one priority,” Sheila reminded everyone.

“Once we've located it,” Roger Sagramore said, “I assume there will be a preemptive strike during the seven-day timeline?”

“Of course,” Sheila said.

“You can't do that!” Jax exclaimed. “You can't go shooting down planes if Addie might be on them, and you can't bomb their hideout during the seven-day timeline. She'll be killed!”

Riley leaned forward and spoke directly to Sheila. “Give us a chance to extract the girl before an air strike. I managed it on the pyramid. I can do it again.”

“The circumstances were different,” Sheila Morgan said.

“The girl chose her side,” Oliver Bors remarked. “And the consequences that go with it.”

“She was running away from your clan!” Jax retorted. “You were planning to kill her
and
my liege lady to end the eighth day.”

A couple members of the Table actually snickered at his outburst. “Sorry, Aubrey,” said Ash Pellinore. “I can't imagine the Dulacs wanting to end the eighth day and give up their magic!” Meanwhile, Sloane looked like she'd
snorted up seawater and her uncle appeared to be holding his breath.

“That's because you don't know they've been experimenting with brownie holes to replace the eighth day as a source of magic,” Jax said. “Only for themselves, of course. All you guys would be demoted to Normals.”

“Brownie holes?” Pellinore guffawed in disbelief.

“I saw them in use,” Riley said. “And Sheila, you know that's how Evangeline escaped from their building that night.” When Sheila nodded, Riley continued, “Only members of the Dulac clan have gained entry—plus Jax, because he's related to them.”

“Do you want to address this, Sloane?” Bedivere asked.

Sloane's eyes flicked toward Mrs. Crandall, the truth teller, before answering. “Grandmother wanted to investigate the magic potential of brownie holes in the event a catastrophe destroyed the eighth day. With so few Emrys heirs left, there's a possibility the spell might end and cut off our source of magic.”

“More than a possibility,” Jax muttered, “since you had one Emrys heir prisoner and were trying to make me bring you the other.”

“Grandmother was killed because of those brownie holes,” Sloane said stiffly. “We've discontinued experimentation.”

“Are you telling me the Dulac clan can pop out of brownie holes?” Pellinore had finally reasoned out what
experimentation with brownie holes
meant. “Anywhere? Like in my home?”

“Of course not,” Oliver Bors said. “Very few people were included in the trial runs, and no one else can be given access now, because Luis Morder, who knew the necessary spell, was killed by the Llyrs. Besides, to reiterate Sloane, my mother died because something monstrous came out of the brownie holes. We're no longer using them.”

Jax glanced at Mrs. Crandall. She didn't call either Sloane or Bors out in a lie. Their words were literal truth with a lot of omissions. “Even if the Dulacs have temporarily quit their plan to murder my liege lady and her sister,” he said, hoping everyone at the Table would notice they hadn't actually denied his accusation, “you can't plan an assault against the Llyrs that will endanger Addie Emrys. I object . . . uh, on behalf of the Emrys seat!”

Sheila addressed Jax. “Do you know how many casualties there were in that hurricane?”

Jax gulped. “Yes, ma'am. I do.”

“I sympathize with you.” Even though there wasn't a hint of emotion on Sheila's face, Jax believed she meant what she said. “But how else do you propose we defeat them? We have an impressive array of talents at this Table, and our vassals have talents of their own. But my clansmen
and Pellinore are the only ones with combat experience—and we won't be facing bullets. It'll be tornadoes, flash floods, and gale-force winds. Even
I
can't pilot a helicopter in a hurricane. You already know what they did to my planes with lightning.”

Having experienced the storm produced by the Llyrs, Jax understood what a powerful talent they had. For the first time he considered how weak the Transitioners seemed by comparison. The Morgans' talent for operating machinery that otherwise wouldn't work on the eighth day, the Dulac talent for changing memories—how did they stack up against people who were practically weather gods? Even Riley's voice of command was not unstoppable. Jax had seen Wylit resist it and Evangeline, too, when Riley had tried to order her out of danger in the Dulac basement.

“You'll get no argument from me,” Roger Sagramore said. “We should take every advantage we can. That was the point of the Eighth Day Spell in the first place.”

Jax turned to Riley, expecting him to protest. But Riley looked worried, as if he was weighing Addie's life against thousands, maybe millions of others, and not liking the result.
Not you, too,
Jax pleaded silently.

Carlotta Lyonnesse patted Jax's hand. “If it's possible to spare the girl, we will. We don't want to see innocents killed. But the Normal population is composed of innocents, too, and the Kin don't share the same remorse. With
the exception of your liege lady, I assume.”

“Well, of course,” Jax said angrily, moving his hand.

“You can't lump all Kin together with the Llyrs,” Riley said, breaking his silence. “In fact, I'm concerned about the safety of Kin who aren't involved in hostilities. The Llyrs will be recruiting their own kind, and I doubt they'll stick to volunteers.”

“We should detain them,” said Sagramore. “Collect as many as we can and hold them for the duration.”

“You mean like a World War Two internment camp?” Riley looked at the people seated around the table. “Please tell me that's not the way the Table operates now.” He didn't come out and say
My father wouldn't have approved,
but his expression suggested he was thinking it.