How did anyone count the victims of magic? The queens, the failles, the Gemini Witches killed by Amal. Amal herself. Grayson. The dread lords, and the king’s curse. Even Julien.
And what of the kidnapped wolves turned into hybrids? They were victims, too.
Everything, including Fee’s magic.
“One story,” said Effa as she brushed at the wet dampening her pants legs. “I always liked it, where—if the magic is right—you can see the resurrected wolf in the moonlight. Watch as she changes into a beautiful woman who runs free.”
I understood why the meadow nymph liked that story. It had a happy ending, unlike life with no guarantees.
We’d left the forest and crossed a meadow where the grass was tall and heavy with the recent rain, swishing as we pushed the way through, leaving a trampled path behind. The shrouded, purple mountains were a smudge in the misty distance. Birds soared overhead.
“What else do you know about runic magic?” I asked, since Fee used it with his borderlines, and Grayson had used it both in the rune stones near the river and when he marked similar runes on my skin.
Caerwen glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “Why would you want to mess with it?”
“I read a book from Anson’s archive. It talked about the importance of the object used when cutting the runes. Clay, or crystals, polished stones, a wooden staff.” Classic magical items from every fantasy movie I’d ever watched.
“A rune is like a word.” Caerwen wrinkled her forehead. “But more. Like a language. The sorceress uses it for guidance, for good reasons, and for bad. The practitioner carves the rune, adds the blood, and sings the magic into being.”
“Have you ever heard the song?”
“No, lady. I would not want to hear such a song.”
We walked on in silence with only the occasional bird call for company. A towering tree drew my attention. An ash tree. The massive spreading branches hid an uneasy thrumming. The nymphs were reacting, because Effa was clomping now, with so much determination that I smiled.
“Are you sure this is wise, No-ee?” she asked as a biting insect attacked her face for the third time, no matter how she swatted it away.
“None of this is wise, but it’s what I have to do.”
“For us, too,” said Caerwen. “The magic affects nymphs in bad ways. Makes us shrink in the Carmag.”
“Not all nymphs,” I pointed out. The nymph in the Farmer’s Market hadn’t been bothered.
“But if war comes? The tree nymphs will die because they can’t leave their trees. The river nymphs cannot survive in the rivers outside these mountains,” the grotto nymph added. “Aine has fought for so long to contain what the Bone Woman unleashed. To keep our world safe.”
“And Aine and I will have a long talk when this is over.”
“Please, No-ee, don’t make her mad.” Effa still stomped but avoided the small flowers growing in the grass. “She might turn you fracky or something.”
“I think she wants this over as much as we do.”
“So do the Gemini Witches.” Caerwen sent me a look. “Have you noticed the runes drawn on that effigy?”
The runes were the answer, but I had more than one question. Did the witch know that Pelonie’s sin had cursed her coven? Did she know the seidr magic was the reason the Gemini Witches ended up dead? Unable to prevent their deaths?
None could escape the future foreseen in their scrying bowl. The curse. Amal would find them, destroy them. Because she remembered who lied about the magic. Remembered the coven, if not the ritual.
And since then, the Wolf Woman tried to bring back lost souls, gathering their bones. All the other women over the ages—the Collector, the Bone Woman, La Lobo—had done the same thing. An attempt to make amends to an unforgiving magic.
When the only way to make amends was to return the wolves to the queens. To somehow release the trapped wolf spirits from the runes and cure the original sin.
“What do I need to know about this wrinkle?” I asked no one in particular.
“What we need to know,” Effa corrected. “Pelonie can’t leave, but we have permission to come and go. There’s a challenge involved, like Odin. Proving we’re worthy.”
“You guys can stay behind.” A hopeful offer they rejected.
“We sense the magic, No-ee. You can’t.”
