Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) (41 page)

Father laid a hand on my shoulder. “It's for the best, Fera. All of it.”

I shrugged out from under his hand. “You want me to stay here.”

“You've always wanted to be part of this.” Father scowled. “There's no reason to give it up for the sake of some man who hardly knows you.”

“You think I'm giving up what I want so I can be with him?”

“I think that if you go, you'll be lying to yourself. You have always wanted to be part of the battalion.”

It was true, I had, but ever since I had my magic back, I hadn't spared the battalion so much as a thought. I hadn't forgotten about them, but I had come close to it.

Father continued, “This is what you've always wanted, Feraline. Don't throw it away for a fling.”

I gritted my teeth, not sure who I was angry with, no longer sure of anything. Mother stepped forward. I stalked away, away from all of them, away from Father, from Mother, from Mordon. I wanted in that instant to have all of them disappear and to just be by myself. The Wildwoods was not so accommodating. We all remained, with me just a little ways apart from the rest.

I reviewed the facts. I had two choices.

To remain in the Wildwoods, to take a place as a seeker within the battalion, to be with family and serve the woods the way Lyall did. Mordon wouldn't be welcome except as an occasional guest, and he had his own colony to serve besides. It'd be life without him.

The second choice was less certain. It meant leaving this behind, leaving the house and the job and my family and everything which had become familiar. It meant facing a future that might or might not include Mordon and the colonies as a permanent fixture. It meant a risk. A lot of risks. I'd gone so long seeking safety and stability, and now I had a viable chance for it—if I stayed here. Looking at it logically, a lot of things stacked in favor of remaining in the woods.

“The Fey Council planned all this?” I asked.

“The entire village did—or those of us who remained,” Mother said, smiling. “We had no doubts. We thought of everything.”

“You didn't think to ask my opinion.”

“We didn't need to. We know you, Fera.”

“I can't believe it. I can't believe how little you respect me, how little you value my choices.”

“Fera—”

“No,” I said. “I don't want to stay in the woods. There' s a whole world out there to explore. I don't want to join the battalion, and I don't want to break up with Mordon in order to live the life you want me to live.”

“Fera!”

But I was too heated to talk with them anymore. I joined Mordon in the center of the spell, careful to not step on any of the symbols. “Get me out of here,” I said.

“It may be better to speak with them, not to part like this,” Mordon said.

“If I have to speak one more word to them, I'm going to start breaking things. Now, let's leave, Mordon.”

My parents didn't try to step into the circle with us. I didn't know if that made me glad or sad.

When the Wildwoods and the spell faded away to nothing, I found myself standing in the living room, surrounded with a door in every wall. It was stable, everlasting. I knew where these doors would go, I knew that when we took something out of the cabinet, it wouldn't restock itself. I knew that I'd have to walk and walk and walk to reach the far reaches of Merlyn's Market. I knew that time marched onwards at a steady pace and that I'd get where I wanted to go—and if I got lost, I would really be lost.

I sagged against a wall, putting my head in my hand.

“Oh, Fera,” Mordon murmured and pulled me against his chest. From the stairs came the sound of someone running a vacuum, hiding our presence for a few more seconds. He stroked my back as I did not cry. He said, “I'm sure we can find a way to reconcile with your parents.”

I was not crying.

I would not be like that.

So I cleared my throat, nodded, and stiffened my back. And none too soon.

“Fera, Mordon!” Barnes got to his feet, rising from the breakfast nook with a bottle of beer in his hand. “Welcome back.”

“That was fast,” Leif said, evidently relieved, emerging from the kitchen.

The vacuum turned off and Lilly said, “They're back? It's not even noon.”

“And not a minute too soon,” Barnes said. “Another thing to celebrate. We were just going to the Mermaid's Tale.”

“They'll have to tell us all about the Wildwoods. I'll treat us to a cheeseburger and fries,” Leif said.

My emotional turmoil soothed, seeing the warmth of my friends, the comfort of being amongst them again. “What do you have to celebrate?”

Lilly appeared from the stairs, snatching a
Thaumaturgical Tribune
off the floor as she approached. “Here. It was announced in the morning paper. You're off the hook!”

“That is good news,” I said, surprisingly not as happy about it as I thought I'd be. “What made them declare me innocent?”

“Hard to be guilty of a crime that didn't happen,” Lilly said with a cackle.

“What?”

I caught Mordon's concern, reading over his shoulder as the unfolded the paper. A cold chill went through me, because the headline read:

GREGOR COLE LIVES! THE STUNNING STORY OF A QUICK-CAST PORTAL GONE WRONG.

I shook as I sank into the chair, running my hands through my hair, thinking about everything and nothing.

“What is it?” Lilly asked. “What's wrong?”

I let out a long, slow breath.

“I think,” I said, “there's something I need to tell you. All of you. I found out what makes the Unwrittens so powerful, so terrible. What makes them different from the rest of the spells we know about.”

No one spoke. They didn't know what to say, what to make of my mood. I pressed on,

“They artificially create life.”

THE END

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Magic
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Rain and wind raged on the glass roof above the old biplane swaying over the books I was reshelving following a recent incident with a storage ghost. It was the sort of day that called for a mug of hot cocoa and a roaring fire to take the cold, wet feel out of the air. Not that I wanted any sugar in that mug, mind. Just straight cocoa and milk would be perfect. Ever since I had an encounter with Death which, I supposed, had triggered my father's shifting ability to become active in me I haven't been able to stomach sweet things.

Mordon Meadows was a few rows over, doing something with the Roman pithos-jar-thing. It hadn't been physically broken, but the ghost had animated it. If it was left to its own devices, it would roll around the floor seemingly with the intention of smashing anything in its path. Mordon's reddish hair had suffered badly from the storage ghost, but so far he hadn't noticed. I anticipated that once he did realize the tangles, he'd want my smoothing comb from upstairs. Aside from the dust coating his black shirt and the smudges on his knees and hair which looked like a mouse had braided it, Mordon wasn't looking too shabby. Not that I was staring at him, exactly.

“I think I'll go make up some Drake's Brew. Maybe enough for myself, too,” Mordon said, standing up and brushing the dust off his knees. Drake's Brew was nothing at all like hot cocoa, but I liked it so well I wondered if I had an addiction to the colony's recipe. He'd been feeding me constantly ever since we got back from the Wildwoods two weeks ago, apparently under the impression that the fight I'd had with my parents prior to leaving the woods could be soothed through the stomach.

Mordon owned the shop and was the principal force behind forming our motley crew into a formal coven. Unlike me, his heritage hadn't been formed through the melting pot; he was all-drake and found my parentage intriguing rather than threatening. He was also biding his time before stepping up the ranks into the Kragdomen Colony's rulership, performing an occupation he called a Watcher. I thought it was a clever ruse by the Colony elders to keep their up-and-coming lord just far enough away from the roost so he didn't get impatient enough to snatch the title for himself a little early, or otherwise butt heads with his superiors. Perhaps it even served as a 'get out and see the world' function. Now that I thought of it the Colony didn't have many people about my age lurking in their hallways, though the rest of the Colony talked about their adventures.

“Sure,” I said. “When do you think the trio will be home? I'm wondering if it's worth it to slap dinner together.”

“The two of us can cook when we're hungry. Leif and Lilly will eat at the celebrations, but Barnes will stick around until late to see all the drunks home. Want me to close up the shop? I doubt anyone will come by now.” Mordon stroked his nonexistant beard in thought. “We could still go, if you'd like to?”

For once I didn't tell him I wanted to be left alone. I smiled. “You asking me on a date?”

His fingers froze in place and his brow knitted in confusion. “Yes,” he said, “I think I am. What a strange concept.”

“It's approaching evening on Midsummer Day. Are you sure you want to ask me to that?”

“Why? What have you heard? That we're to dance naked around a tree and drink freely of wine to encourage good crops and animals?”

“Mmm, I hadn't heard that bit. No, Lilly mentioned something about jumping over bonfires and tossing wreaths of flowers into the duck pond.”

“Lilly's doing the kiddie activities.” Mordon grinned mischievously. “Want to take a guess of what the adults do? The fairies are taking charge.”

I had a feeling that I knew what some of those activities included, if the way he was looking at me was any indication. “Whatever, I'll give it a shot. Just know I draw the line at anything that'll get me knocked up.” This was one of those times when the filter between brain and mouth failed, and I regretted the lapse. So I tried to fix it. “Spring is way too early for me to be ready to even hold a child, nevermind raise one.”

“Oh, I don't know. You held my nephew pretty well.”

“You have no clue how lucky he was.”

“I think it is you who has no clue how lucky he was,” Mordon said, knowing that I'd embarrassed myself already, the gleam in his expression telling me he found it adorable to see me flustered. “Are you trying to find a way to tell me no? You could just say it, unless you like teasing me.”

“I accept, before you change your mind and don't take me out at all. Close up shop, go sear some steaks, I'll tidy up here and meet you upstairs in five.”

He hooked a thumb in the pocket of his black silk trousers, still taking in my doubtless red cheeks. “Will I be escorting you to the kiddie pool, or do you think you're big enough for the deep end?”

I laughed. “Where on earth did you learn that turn of phrase? You haven't been to a swimming pool in your life.”

“From you. And you're deflecting the question.”

“Depends what I'm in the mood for and if you are going to be a rogue or a gentleman.”

“Which one leads to jumping in the deep end?”

I looked for something to toss at him, found nothing that would not be damaged, and formed a burst of compressed air instead. He tried to catch it and ended up ruffling through his red hair. He laughed and moved away, humming a jaunty tune. I shook my head, my cheeks still hot, and tried to return my attention back to the books, but I kept wondering...I'd only ever seen him shirtless twice before...and even then, only had one decent look at him. Not that I was willing to be reckless to see more. Definitely not. I planned to stay well away from the free-flowing wine.