Read Online The Bitter Seed of Magic (A Spellcrackers Novel) by Suzanne McLeod - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne McLeod
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for that, and I’d find some way to repay him, but—
‘I’m sorry, Finn.’ I held my hands out. ‘I wish things were different, that we could work this out just between us, but two faelings are dead because of the curse. I’ve got to find out what’s happening and stop it. It’s time I started talking to the rest of them.’ And why the hell I hadn’t done that before now was something else I needed to find out.
‘Hell’s thorns, Gen, they’ve been desperate to talk to you. The only reason they haven’t is because every time I asked you, you said you weren’t ready to deal with them yet.’
‘I did?’ I said, astonished. Damn, there was too much that I seemed not to be doing. Almost as if it wasn’t me in control . . .
‘You should’ve told me you’d changed your mind.’ Finn raked his fingers through his hair, his expression troubled. ‘We could’ve organised things, kept it all on a formal basis. But now you’re going to have every dryad in London turning up on your doorstep. And they’re going to want to do more than talk. Then there’s the naiads; they’re going to send their own candidates to court you once they hear. I’ll talk to the herd Elders, see if . . .’
His voice faded as suspicion dragged an elusive memory from a dark hole in my mind. There was something about a . . . spell around my wrist? Yeah, that was it. I pushed my jacket sleeves up and looked at my arms. The right was clear. The left was patterned with a blood-coloured band of rose-shaped bruises that encircled my wrist like a monochrome tattoo. The ‘tattoo’ marked me as Malik al-Khan’s ‘property’ and protected me from other vampires. As vamps go, Malik was a good guy . . . although my recent memories of him were a bit on the hazy side, which was never a good sign around vamps; it probably meant he’d been using his vamp mind-mojo to make me forget what I was only now remembering. But that was a problem for later. As for his mark, well it was a convenient thing to have – if I ignored the whole ‘he hadn’t asked, and I wasn’t any sucker’s damn property’ issue. I’d got so used to it that I never even noticed it now, but as I squinted at it sideways, I found what I was looking for: the spell, hidden beneath the rose-shaped bruises. As I focused , the spell grew brighter, twisting up my forearm like the stem of a briar rose, its multitude of tiny thorns pricking painlessly into my flesh and vanishing into my body.
A Sleeping Beauty spell.
Anger roiled in my gut. The damn spell was magical Valium, turned you into an emotional zombie. Now I knew why my life had been so uneventful since Grace’s funeral. I grimaced as the spell’s stem disappeared up my jacket sleeve, winding itself tightly around my elbow, the thorns puncturing my skin. Bandana’s salt-water emetic must have temporarily neutralised it, but now it was resetting itself.
‘Gen.’ Finn grasped my shoulders. ‘You’re not listening to me. This is serious.’
He was right. There were only two people who could’ve got close enough to me to have tagged me with the spell, and one of them was standing in front of me. The other was Tavish, the kelpie. If I was looking for a culprit, Tavish – that scheming, over-protective, arrogant, alluring, charming, centuries-old wylde fae who was also my sort-of ex – won hands down. But if I was looking for someone to be my ‘prince’ and ‘awaken’ me, then Finn could easily play the heroic stand-in. But getting that close to him meant the magic’s matchmaking got a chance to push my libido into overdrive.
Damn, whatever I did I was screwed (no pun intended), but at least with Finn and the magic I had a chance of being in control.
Decision made, I reached up and cupped Finn’s face. His skin was warm and firm under my touch and the magic rose from within me, leaping like golden wildfire between us. His eyes widened in surprise, their moss-green depths flickering emerald, and his hands
‘I’m sorry, Finn.’ I held my hands out. ‘I wish things were different, that we could work this out just between us, but two faelings are dead because of the curse. I’ve got to find out what’s happening and stop it. It’s time I started talking to the rest of them.’ And why the hell I hadn’t done that before now was something else I needed to find out.
‘Hell’s thorns, Gen, they’ve been desperate to talk to you. The only reason they haven’t is because every time I asked you, you said you weren’t ready to deal with them yet.’
‘I did?’ I said, astonished. Damn, there was too much that I seemed not to be doing. Almost as if it wasn’t me in control . . .
‘You should’ve told me you’d changed your mind.’ Finn raked his fingers through his hair, his expression troubled. ‘We could’ve organised things, kept it all on a formal basis. But now you’re going to have every dryad in London turning up on your doorstep. And they’re going to want to do more than talk. Then there’s the naiads; they’re going to send their own candidates to court you once they hear. I’ll talk to the herd Elders, see if . . .’
His voice faded as suspicion dragged an elusive memory from a dark hole in my mind. There was something about a . . . spell around my wrist? Yeah, that was it. I pushed my jacket sleeves up and looked at my arms. The right was clear. The left was patterned with a blood-coloured band of rose-shaped bruises that encircled my wrist like a monochrome tattoo. The ‘tattoo’ marked me as Malik al-Khan’s ‘property’ and protected me from other vampires. As vamps go, Malik was a good guy . . . although my recent memories of him were a bit on the hazy side, which was never a good sign around vamps; it probably meant he’d been using his vamp mind-mojo to make me forget what I was only now remembering. But that was a problem for later. As for his mark, well it was a convenient thing to have – if I ignored the whole ‘he hadn’t asked, and I wasn’t any sucker’s damn property’ issue. I’d got so used to it that I never even noticed it now, but as I squinted at it sideways, I found what I was looking for: the spell, hidden beneath the rose-shaped bruises. As I focused , the spell grew brighter, twisting up my forearm like the stem of a briar rose, its multitude of tiny thorns pricking painlessly into my flesh and vanishing into my body.
A Sleeping Beauty spell.
Anger roiled in my gut. The damn spell was magical Valium, turned you into an emotional zombie. Now I knew why my life had been so uneventful since Grace’s funeral. I grimaced as the spell’s stem disappeared up my jacket sleeve, winding itself tightly around my elbow, the thorns puncturing my skin. Bandana’s salt-water emetic must have temporarily neutralised it, but now it was resetting itself.
‘Gen.’ Finn grasped my shoulders. ‘You’re not listening to me. This is serious.’
He was right. There were only two people who could’ve got close enough to me to have tagged me with the spell, and one of them was standing in front of me. The other was Tavish, the kelpie. If I was looking for a culprit, Tavish – that scheming, over-protective, arrogant, alluring, charming, centuries-old wylde fae who was also my sort-of ex – won hands down. But if I was looking for someone to be my ‘prince’ and ‘awaken’ me, then Finn could easily play the heroic stand-in. But getting that close to him meant the magic’s matchmaking got a chance to push my libido into overdrive.
Damn, whatever I did I was screwed (no pun intended), but at least with Finn and the magic I had a chance of being in control.
Decision made, I reached up and cupped Finn’s face. His skin was warm and firm under my touch and the magic rose from within me, leaping like golden wildfire between us. His eyes widened in surprise, their moss-green depths flickering emerald, and his hands
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