Hereditary Magic Page 4

  “Caw. Trust no one. Not even me.”

  “I don’t trust you,” I said. “You let someone through the barriers once already. I want you to swear you won’t lie to us again.”

  “I will always obey the word of the Gatekeeper.”

  That was the problem. Mum wasn’t here, and Arden wasn’t under any binding to obey me. Hazel could coax obedience out of him up to a point, but as a non-Gatekeeper, the most I could do was threaten him with bodily harm.

  “Then I’ll ask someone reliable,” I said to Hazel. “Have you seen Grandma recently?”

  “Not recently, but she’s still hanging around the mausoleum, as far as I know. You sure?”

  “Absolutely.” I’d trust my grandmother’s ghost a damn sight more than I trusted the half-Sidhe intruder. “I’m not working tomorrow, but there’s a limit to how long my boss will accept the ‘family emergency’ excuse. I need to clear this up.”

  “Does your boss know who we are?” She sounded sceptical.

  “You think any non-supernatural would believe this?” I waved a hand at the house in general. “Most people stay in denial until it lands on top of them.” Some of us didn’t have that option. She knew that as well as I did. “I’ll speak to Grandma tomorrow. If anyone has advice, she does.”

  Chapter 4

  I woke to the sensation of cold air on my neck and the horrible suspicion that I wasn’t alone in my room.

  Shifting onto my side, I squinted into the darkness, but saw nothing. My skin prickled. I slid out of bed, listening carefully, my feet sinking into the soft carpet. Horror movies warn you not to go investigating strange noises in the dark, but I wasn’t about to stay in bed and get jumped by another zombie. The dark shapes of my furniture were all I saw, and when my feet collided with something solid, I breathed out when I remembered I’d left my suitcase at the foot of the bed. My door was closed, the curtains drawn on the window. So why did I feel like someone was watching me?

  I crossed to the window and peered through a gap in the curtains, not seeing a sign of our unwanted bodyguard. Perhaps he was the intruder, and had been waiting until we were asleep to strike. But any intruder would target Hazel, not me, and not a sound came from the landing.

  I reached for the nearest hard object—a giant hardback book that could probably knock the head off a zombie—and walked to the door.

  A blast of icy air shook the room, slamming me off my feet. I landed on my back against the bed, gripping the book like a shield. A deep, terrible coldness seeped into my skin, yet the window wasn’t open, nor the door. Raw, primal terror ripped through my mind, as though I stood on a sheer cliff, seconds from plummeting into an endless abyss.

  Then warm magic infiltrated the room with an earthy scent. Green light flashed and dissipated just as quickly, and a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway. I lunged forwards and threw the book at the intruder with everything I had.

  River caught it in one hand. He moved, the light streaming across the landing brightening the blond of his hair. I sagged with relief. He was looking at me weirdly… oh, shit. Most of my clothes had been covered in debris from the collapsing house so I’d gone to sleep in an oversized old T-shirt. Since I wasn’t wearing a bra, my assets had probably been exposed when I’d thrown the book at him. I tugged my shirt into place, my cheeks flaming. But his eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

  “Did you summon that?” he demanded.

  Whoa. I scrambled to my feet. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  A silver flash appeared in his eyes, so swiftly I was sure I’d imagined it a second later. “Don’t move. It might still be in here.”

  “What is in the house?”

  He frowned. “You can’t see it. Of course…”

  “Can’t see what?”

  Instead of answering, he ran out onto the landing. Either he was leading me into a trap, or he really did think there was an invisible enemy in here. Considering I’d definitely sensed something in my room, maybe he was right.

  On the other hand—“How did you get into the house?”

  “The vow I’m under compels me to protect you from harm,” River explained. “The house let me inside the moment you were attacked.”

  “I was attacked by an invisible—what, exactly?”

  Instead of answering, he pushed open the nearest door, which happened to lead into Mum’s room.

  “I wouldn’t go in there. She’ll know if a speck of dust is out of place.”

  He took a step back, shaking his head. “It’s gone. Do you have the Sight, by the way?”

  “Of course I have the Sight.”

  I’d always hated being asked. Sure, I didn’t have magic, so it was logical to assume I was as short-sighted as any human. Most humans couldn’t see faeries unless they wanted to be seen. Including—wait a moment. River was holding a sword in his hand, which definitely hadn’t been there before. Runes glinted on the hilt. No way. He has a talisman?

  “Just checking,” he said. “If you weren’t Sighted, you wouldn’t have seen your attacker.”

  “Doesn’t look like you can see it now either,” I said. “Are you sure it wasn’t just another disembodied zombie hand?”

  Hazel’s door flew open and she appeared, somehow looking intimidating even in her fluffy penguin pyjamas. Shimmering green magic circled her hands, and the temperature spiked as her anger ignited the Summer magic already present in the house. The mark on her forehead gleamed.

  “What the hell is going on?” she asked.

  “Apparently there’s an invisible monster in the house,” I told her. “He won’t tell me what it is.”

  “Invisible?” she echoed. “What, like glamoured?”

  “Not exactly.” He stalked past her, sword in hand. “I can’t sense it anymore.”

  “Sense what?” Hazel and I said more or less at the same time. Oh no. Not again.

  “A wraith,” he said, from the top of the stairs. “Think a ghost, but not a harmless lost spirit.”

  “What, a poltergeist?” asked Hazel, frowning. “I’ve been alone here for weeks. Pretty sure I’d know by now if the house was haunted.”

  “A poltergeist in my room?” Ghosts weren’t an uncommon sight. That horrible, cold sensation I’d had, like something evil was watching me… I’d never had that feeling around spirits.

  River looked from me to Hazel. “How much do you know about the Grey Vale?”

  “Is now really the time for a quiz?” said Hazel. Her hands still glowed green with faerie magic. “If there is a ghost in the house, I want it out.”

  “The Grey Vale,” I said. “That’s the part of the faerie realm they send exiles to.” And the source of the monsters which had attacked Earth. Outcasts who’d been kicked out of the Courts.

  “Correct,” he said, like he actually was running a quiz. “The Vale is a magic-free zone, and possibly because of that, if faeries die there, they don’t come back. They linger forever. And when a particularly powerful spirit is trapped there, it turns into a wraith.”

  My throat went dry. One of those was in my room? I’m never sleeping again.

  “What—” Hazel broke off. “Who told you that?”

  From her shaken tone, she hadn’t known. I didn’t know it was possible for faeries to turn into ghosts. I mean, they didn’t die. And in this realm, I’d assumed they faded away, drawn beyond the gates of death like humans were.

  The Grey Vale. Faerie was dangerous on a good day, but the family name gave us some measure of protection from both Summer and Winter Courts. Not so much the place that belonged to neither. If it was true, someone must have sent that creature after us deliberately. And how had River managed to sense it?

  “Do I have your permission to search the house?” asked River.

  “Sure, why not,” said Hazel. “You’re already in here, and I’m not going back to bed if we’re being haunted.”

  “Same.” I switched on the landing light and walked back to my room, kicking the door inwards
. After scanning every corner for evil spirits, I grabbed the hardback book and used it to prop the door open before opening my suitcase to find my clothes had cleaned themselves and folded themselves into neat piles. Living in this house had always been like having a parade of invisible servants eternally present, a luxury I’d missed more than I’d care to admit.

  “Feel free to enjoy the show, dickhead,” I said to the empty air as I stripped off my shirt. “You picked the wrong person to haunt.”

  And now I was arguing with invisible ghosts. Less than a day in this house and I’d officially lost my mind. Shaking my head, I slipped into my most comfortable hoody and jeans, giving the middle finger to the room in general in case the spiritual intruder was still lurking. My suitcase was packed and ready, and if I asked Hazel, she’d open a Path back to Edinburgh for me without a second’s thought. But I couldn’t get the look on River’s face when he’d come into my room out of my head, the brief flash of silver light in his eyes. He’d thought I’d summoned the wraith? Or had he been covering up? I couldn’t let Hazel handle this alone—and that was assuming I’d been targeted by accident. The Lynn house was safer than anywhere else, like it or not.

  Hazel sat on the sofa in the living room, holding a mug of hot chocolate. “I made one for you.”

  “Thanks. Wait, do you mean you made it or the house did?” I picked up the mug from the coffee table, the scent of warm chocolate somewhat soothing my frazzled nerves.

  She blinked, the picture of innocence. “I’d have made one if the house hadn’t provided.”

  “Uh-huh.” The only place I’d come close to finding anything like the house’s magical creations was a supernatural-run café in Edinburgh’s Old Town—the one time I broke my rule not to go near anything supernatural-related if I could help it. I dragged my thoughts over to blueberry pancakes rather than angry ghosts, but even the smooth taste of warm chocolate didn’t quite get rid of the creepy sensation of cold fingers trailing down my spine.

  I pulled Grandma’s handmade throw across my legs, taking another sip. “I think it’s trying to make up for the attack. But to be honest, I’d take the collapsing house over the haunted one.”

  The hot chocolate scorched my tongue and I yelped. Bloody house.

  “I don’t blame you,” Hazel said, grabbing a cookie from a plate which had materialised on the coffee table. “I think I’d remember if Mum had mentioned faerie ghosts can get past the house’s boundaries.”

  “So you believe me?”

  Hazel bit into the cookie. “Of course I do. You’re the one who likes going into the mausoleum to talk to Grandma, and you’re not scared of the dark. If you sensed a ghost, you’re probably right.”

  “Wraith,” I corrected. I’d heard the stories. Vale faeries hid in the shadows, preying on unsuspecting humans, and were drawn to carnage and misery. The Grey Vale itself was a dead end, a place drained of the magic that sustained the rest of Faerie, and the same went for its inhabitants. It made sense that without their magic, they were no longer immortal, and turned into ghosts after death.

  “Do you think Arden might have left a gap in the defences?” I asked. “Because this is the second ghost to get inside in a day.”

  “I’ve no idea,” said Hazel. “He shouldn’t be able to—much less want to. We’re all he has, and he’s as tied to the Courts as we are.”

  “True.” Arden’s official title was the Gatekeeper’s messenger, who carried messages from Faerie to whoever happened to be at the house. As a delegate of the Courts, he’d have the same revulsion towards the wraith as anyone from Faerie. “Someone here isn’t trustworthy, and I’m inclined to blame our new friend.”

  “He did help you,” she said. “Right? You said the creature came into your room…”

  “I woke up absolutely freezing, and it was like an invisible force threw me into the air. He used magic on it—I assume that’s what he did, but I didn’t see the target. I thought he was the intruder so I threw a book at him.”

  “You threw a book at my bodyguard?”

  “It was the only weapon I had within reach.” Because I’d left the salt shaker and the iron filings I usually carried in my coat pockets, thinking the house’s magic would keep out any intruders. “He didn’t seem surprised at the attack. More like he was expecting it.”

  “Maybe it’s what he was sent to protect us from,” said Hazel. “I mean, it’s not like magic works on ghosts. Or physical weapons.”

  “Then what was the deal with the sword?” I said. “That was a genuine talisman. Either he got it from his family, or he stole it. You know they don’t hand out talismans to just anyone.”

  I’d thought only the Sidhe wielded those weapons.

  “There’s a simpler way for me to prove my allegiance,” said River, leaning casually on the door frame. We should have known better than to gossip in the same house as a half-faerie. Their senses were generally much sharper than humans’ were, and they moved almost as quietly as ghosts themselves.

  He glided into the room, sword in hand. Runes gleamed up and down the hilt, and he removed the slip of parchment from his pocket again, tossing it to me. The note was written in the faerie script but I still remembered enough of it to get the gist. It was a note of recommendation signed by one Lord Torin. Must be his father.

  “I know that signature,” Hazel said, reading over my shoulder. She looked up at River. “Sorry for suspecting you. Nobody told me I was getting a bodyguard, and considering you appeared right after the zombie…”

  “It’s understandable,” he said. “Your distrust will serve you well. You have some dangerous enemies.”

  “I don’t suppose you can tell us who they are?” I asked. “You were sent here for a specific reason. You must have some idea who sent that wraith after us.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” he said. “I have a few theories, but I haven’t been here long enough to determine who’s behind it.”

  Irritation laced his tone, and sounded genuine. But my suspicions refused to be buried. It was no coincidence that someone with in-depth knowledge on the exact monster which had just attacked me would show up immediately beforehand.

  “I’m betting it’s the same person who sent a zombie after us,” said Hazel. “I think we need a salt barrier… does it work on wraiths? It does on ghosts and zombies.”

  “That was precisely my plan,” he said. “Wherever the wraith is now, it’s no longer inside this house. I’ll put up a barrier to deter it from coming back in.”

  And he left without another word.

  I shook my head. “Salt won’t do much if it already got through the Sidhe’s magical shields. Guess I have something else to ask Grandma.”

  It struck me that consulting a ghost when we’d just been attacked by one might not be the most logical move, but Grandma was one of the rare examples of someone whose spirit retained all her mental functions from when she was alive. Usually ghosts forgot who they were. Occasionally, if they died in a particularly violent manner, they turned into poltergeists. The faerie invasion had created an epidemic, and most families burned their dead to prevent their relatives rising again when weird spikes in spiritual activity occurred. But spirits were generally the most harmless supernatural being you could run into, and I’d been visiting Grandma for advice for years. With her help, I’d deal with both the wraith and Hazel’s unwanted bodyguard in one go, and then tell the Sidhe to go screw themselves. Then I’d go back to university and actually get my shit together and put in an application. Simple.

  Or not-so-simple. Staying here and settling into my designated role was the easier choice, which was precisely why I’d left to begin with. I won’t be beholden to the Sidhe. No matter how good those cookies smell. Damn, that’s how they got you. I picked up one cookie and went to fetch some weapons.

  The house didn’t actually have a weapons room despite what Hazel had told River, but Mum’s workroom contained a handy collection of magical and non-magical weaponry. Knives, iron, salt,
witch-made charms, even a crossbow. I’d adapted my coat sleeves so I could easily fit a container of shredded iron in one sleeve, salt in the other. Spares in my pockets. A single knife, sheathed and positioned within easy reach. For most humans, the goal was either not to get attacked in the first place, or cause enough pain to the enemy to escape and run like hell. Hence the iron, which burned out faeries’ magic as effectively as salt destroyed undead.

  As the dawn bathed the house in warmth, I walked into the living room to find Hazel waiting for me, wearing her official Gatekeeper’s coat, green with embossed gold edges like a Court faerie’s attire and glowing in the dawn light from the window. A strange pang went through me—someday soon, she’d be Gatekeeper. Five years had passed in a heartbeat, and would pass infinitely more quickly in the faerie realm. The gleaming silver mark on her forehead indicated the magic ready to spring to her fingertips at a second’s notice.

  River re-entered at the same time. He’d apparently found time to change outfits between patrolling, and now wore a knee-length coat similar to Hazel’s. Faerie-made, by the look of things. I hadn’t seen him bring a suitcase in, but faerie magic could explain away anything.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To the village,” I said vaguely. “You don’t have to come.”

  “I do if your sister goes with you.”

  “Oh, all right.” Hazel threw up her hands. “Ilsa can go alone. I’ll stay here. I’m the one you have to follow, right?”

  It wasn’t like her to sit out on the action. What was she scheming?

  River’s gaze slid to me. “It’s dangerous.”

  “Compared to evil spirits?” I asked. “The most dangerous thing in town is Everett’s baking. Trust me.”

  “The wraith is no common enemy,” River said. “It knew how to breach the boundaries of the liminal space.”

  “I’m aware of that. I live here.”

  He still didn’t move. Faeries could be bloody obstinate when they wanted to be. “If you’re attacked again, I won’t be able to help you.”