Faerie Magic (31 page)

“Don’t tell me,” I said, sensing the necromancer’s presence behind me. “I don’t get a second chance this time. I’m dead.”

A pause. My heart twisted, tears burning eyes that shouldn’t be able to cry.
Vance.
He held my limp body in his arms, surrounded by countless other dead. My spirit was invisible to him now. I’d gone, along with the others.

Frank floated to land beside me. “You aren’t, yet.”

“Yet?”

“You took an unbelievable amount of power into yourself,” said Frank. “Luckily for you, most of it was absorbed into its source.”

The parchment. “So I’m hanging around here… why?”

“Because I want to make you an offer,” he said. “It’s clear the living necromancers aren’t as competent as they should be. I want to be your liaison between the dead and the living.”

“My own personal necromancer? They’ll never buy it.”

“It’s not Lord Evander’s decision,” said Frank. “He knows nothing of the Grey Vale and cares for little outside of his guild. I suspect he won’t remain leader for much longer.”

“But I’m not a necromancer,” I pointed out. “If I’m alive, I need to get back to my body before everyone thinks I’m dead.”

“Someone wants to speak to you.”

I looked around. The other spirits had faded into the fog, including Calder. If
he
was here, I’d be spending as little time in Death as humanly possible.

One spirit remained. The half-faerie Chief, wearing an expression of fury and disbelief. He looked me up and down. “Your magic… you’re human.”

“And you’re dead.” I couldn’t summon up any sympathy. The dead people lying on that battlefield… I couldn’t get the image out of my head. This man had blood on his hands. Even more than I did.

“Technically, he isn’t dead,” said the necromancer. “His blood contains a slow-acting healing ability as a result of him being part Sidhe.”

I shot him an alarmed look. “Calder doesn’t, does he?”

“Even a Sidhe can’t heal from an iron blade in the heart,” said the Chief, in a condescending manner. “He’s dead. You and the mage killed him.”

“You’re welcome.” I narrowed my eyes. I wouldn’t be particularly thrilled to meet this guy in the waking world again. “Any reason you wanted to speak to me? Because I’m pretty sure everyone knows I can do faerie magic now.”

“You said the Invocation,” he said. “That’s not a power most faeries can handle. Humans… never. What
are
you? You can’t be pure human.”

“I am,” I said. “It’s a long story, but I killed a Sidhe lord, not knowing I’d take his magic in the process.”

The Chief blanched. “You killed a
Sidhe?
What manner of human are you?”

“Lucky,” I said. “Really lucky. So are you. The guy who opened the veil is the son of a Sidhe lord, too.”

“Which lord? I know them all, and I’ve never seen him before.”

Of course you haven’t.
“I told you, there’s a place between the realms where they send exiles. It’s called the Grey Vale, and during the invasion, Sidhe lords from there came here. One of them took me, and left that lunatic behind. He’s a changeling.”

“Changelings.” He spat out the word. “We’re all changelings. Neither mortal nor infinite.” He looked into the distance, like he could see the dead half-faeries through the fog.

“Being mortal isn’t all bad,” I told him. To Frank, I said, “You ought to send him back. There’s a crap-load of drugged half-faeries in dire need of leadership.”

The Chief started to speak, but was already fading away. So did the necromancer, leaving me alone in the fog.

I didn’t know how long I drifted. Spirits passed me by, some of whom I vaguely recognised. Humans and half-faeries whose lives had been taken in the fighting. I tried to speak to them, apologise, even, but none paid me any attention. We might have avoided a second invasion, but at no small cost.

I found myself drifting over the place where the veil had opened. At first I couldn’t tell what drew me there. Then I heard the screaming. Calder.

“I’m
not
dead. I’m Sidhe!”

Calder’s ghostly form floated above his body, clawing at it like he could force his spirit to rejoin his earthly form.

“Not gonna work,” I said.

He turned on me with a twisted glare, and punched me through the chest.

I kept still. “You can’t kill me.” He didn’t scare me anymore. Not half-faded, subdued, powerless.

“I will.” Hate distorted his feature. “I promise you, Ivy Lane, I’ll haunt you until I can take your life and regain mine. I swear it.”

His words seemed to ripple through me, through the veil.

“But before I kill you—” His eyes met mine, icy, depthless—“I’ll kill your mage first.”

Ice shot down my spine. “What mage?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“The one who killed me. He’s your lover?”

“No.”
Please believe me.
As long as the veil held, he wouldn’t be coming back. It wasn’t like he could read my mind… but he’d just made a vow. He might not be pure Sidhe, but a promise was the most powerful magic of all.

Maybe even enough to conquer death.

“You can take all the cheap shots you like, but you’re dead,” I said. “This realm is none of your business. You’re dead. Move the hell on.”

I turned my back on him, hoping he couldn’t see me shaking.

Everything faded away, again. I floated some more, positive that if I had a heart, it’d be pounding.
Vance.
Ghosts couldn’t harm people, in theory, but if anyone was angry enough to find a way, Calder could. If anyone had enough hate to claw his way back into life, it was the son of Avakis.

“Ivy!”

Isabel’s voice sounded like it came from far away. I closed my eyes, willing my floating form to return to my physical body.
Come on. Please.

With a surge of air, I gasped awake, struggling for breath. My whole body felt like I’d been put through a cement mixer and my head rang with pain. Voices exclaimed around me, but the noise was too much to handle. I curled in a ball, shaking all over.

“I’ll kill you, Ivy,”
a voice whispered in my ear.
“But I’ll kill your mage first.”

***

I heard him every night. Of course I knew he didn’t actually come to talk to me, but his voice sounded too real. Too close. I barely spoke, even to Isabel. She told me whenever Vance came over to the flat, wanting to see me. I declined, feigning sleep. I couldn’t speak to him. Couldn’t tell him the truth. Because what was the point? He’d take no notice of my warnings. It wasn’t in his nature to hide, especially from a dead person.

Isabel told me
I’d
been so close to death, I’d nearly passed over the veil. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to blurt out the truth. It’d sound too ridiculous, and I’d have to mention Calder. I’d have to listen to excuses, and reassurances that of course I’d have bad dreams after what I’d been through. Calder might be haunting my dreams, but his ghostly form would be locked away with the other spirits. The necromancers had been forced to make a statement after the battle, because the first layer of the veil had been swamped with furious half-faerie ghosts. None of them would be coming back.

Didn’t stop Calder’s furious icy blue eyes from appearing in my mind’s eye every time I tried to forget.

Mostly, I was fucking
tired.
I’d been through hell, dying twice in as many days. I wanted to be left alone, for a long time.

I lasted a week.

One morning, I jerked awake to the smell of cinnamon cookies and coffee.

“This is my last day playing nursemaid,” said Isabel, passing me a breakfast tray. “Seriously. It’s been a week.”

I grunted. “Thanks for the cookies.”

“Ivy.” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re healed. Quit with the moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

Isabel sighed. “I know you had a shitty experience, but I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me about it. You’re just… lying in bed all the time. It isn’t like you.”

“No,” I said, setting the tray on the side. “You’re right. I’m hiding. I never thanked you enough times for saving our necks.”

Isabel and the coven had managed to brew up an antidote for most of the half-faeries afflicted by the drugs. Not all of them—some had fled the town, while others had disappeared into Faerie. Half-blood territory would be in turmoil for a while, but the Chief had survived, and the mages had helped with keeping order.

“You saved us,” said Isabel. “Vance said you drew all the magic to you—through you, into that spell.”

“Kind of,” I said. “Since when were you two on first-name terms?”

“Since you’ve refused to speak to him for the four days you’ve been awake,” she said.

Touché.

I drew in a breath. “I’ll tell you, but you’ll think I’m imagining things from stress.”

“Imagining what?”

“Ghosts.”

Isabel blinked at me. “You have the spirit sight?”

“No. I… kinda died for a moment. Well, two.”

I quickly summed up my experiences the other side of the veil, ending with my confrontation with Calder.

“He won’t come back, Ivy,” she said.

“If anyone can, it’s him.” I shuddered. “His magic was stronger than mine, in the end. Vance killed him. He made a promise… he’ll keep trying. Forever. Until he succeeds.”

“The veil’s closed,” said Isabel. “The necromancers will keep him out.”

I gave her a look. “They’re not reliable. Apart from the dead guy, he’s not too bad. He said his living counterpart’s a lazy idiot.” I shook my head. “The necros need a full leadership overhaul, if you ask me. But that’s not the point. When I died the second time… I saw
him.
Calder. He’s—he was mortal, so he has a soul. It’s there, over the veil.”

“He’s still a ghost,” said Isabel. “The necromancer Guardians will send him beyond the gate with everyone else.”

“He said he’d find a way.”

“Cheap talk, coming from a dead guy.” She nudged me. “Look, Ivy, what happened must have been awful, but don’t shut me out. I’m here.”

I nodded, a lump in my throat. When I could speak, I said, “He’s been here.”

“Yes. He helped me reset our wards. This place is as secure as the mages’ place now.”

“Good.”

“Er, except them,” she amended, pointing over her shoulder. “Look who showed up this morning.”

I picked up the breakfast tray and followed her. No fewer than five piskies flew around the ceiling.

“They were hiding upstairs,” said Isabel. “They freaked out when magic went all crazy.”

“At this rate, we can set up a colony,” I said. “Hey, Erwin.”

The piskie flew towards me with a delighted yell. “Ivy. You’re back.”

That’s promising.
“Er… do I look any different?” The piskie ought to be able to tell if my brush with death had changed me in any way.

“No disguises. Not a bad faerie.”

“Good.” I took a bite of the cookie, suddenly starving, and walked back to my room to get dressed. Time to rejoin the land of the living.

The doorbell rang while I was tugging a brush through my hair. I left my room to find Isabel stashing her phone in her pocket, not-so-subtly.

“You messaged, him, didn’t you?”

Isabel threw up her hands. “Talk to him, for crying out loud. I don’t know what the deal is, but Vance didn’t move from your side the night you nearly died until we were sure you were going to live. He put someone else in charge in his place.”

Oh. Shit. Maybe I needed to lie down.

The doorbell rang again.

I blew out a breath. “Okay. I meant it when I said I didn’t need any more drama.”

Isabel walked right behind me to the door and stood there until I’d unlatched the bolts. “I’ll be in the flat,” she said over her shoulder. Her retreating footsteps bounced through my head.

“I—hey, Vance.” He looked tired. Really tired. The past week had hit us all, hard. “Is Drake okay?” Isabel had told me he and Wanda had survived the fight. Not everyone else had.

“Yes. He was lucky.”

The implied meaning was clear. I’d reminded him of everyone else who’d died. Great one, Ivy. “So… I guess you’re busy. I mean… cleaning up.” Stupid how looking at those temperamental eyes made me lose all ability to form sentences.

“Fairly so, yes.” His tone didn’t give anything away. “You’ve recovered? Isabel said you had.”

“For the most part.” I fidgeted. “Sorry I… didn’t call.”

“It’s understandable.” He took a breath. “Warn me the next time you decide to risk your life like that. You should have told me there was a strong chance it’d kill you.”

It did kill me.
The words hovered on my tongue, but I knew what he’d say if I told him Calder had threatened his life. My feelings about Vance were tumultuous enough without adding a promise from a half-Sidhe ghost.