Mermagic (The Witching World Book 6) Page 2

  Because I’d realized that it wasn’t sufficient to defend myself. Someone like Mirvela, who was so much like Count Washur, didn’t stop until she achieved what she wanted, and what she wanted was to take from others what no one should be allowed to take.

  Beings like Mirvela and Count Washur stole, hurt, and killed. And there was only one way to keep them from doing any more of it.

  I’d have to kill them.

  I’d have to take the life from them before they could take it from me or anyone else. Where I hesitated, they wouldn’t. I regretted the need to kill, to take the gift of life, where they’d relish it.

  While I’d lamented what I realized I needed to do, Mirvela had managed to position herself upright. Her face consumed with rage, she lunged at me. She pumped her mertail and managed to close the distance between us in a second.

  I was in the process of sending my magic down my arms for another attack when she sank her fingers into me. She cut into my flesh with sharp claws and pinned me in place. I tried to push my magic outward, through my skin and my fingertips, and while I managed to make progress, it was too slow.

  Her own magic must have been fighting mine. It seemed like my magic was trudging through sludge trying to break free.

  It was now or never. Kill or be killed.

  I focused all my might into my core, and then pushed myself outward with all that focused strength. I put every ounce of my will behind my magic, which still tried to get out, to save me, to take down the merwitch that was opening her mouth to pull me in tasty pieces into the abyss.

  Our magic battled. When mine gave a little, she pounced, but then my strength managed to hold her back just enough to turn the momentum. My magic was about to crest my fingertips, which I sank into her bare torso, when an impossible voice reached me.

  “Stop this instant!”

  Chapter 4

  Mordecai? How was Mordecai underwater and shouting at us?

  Then a thought of brilliance struck me. It wasn’t Mordecai at all. Mordecai couldn’t talk underwater, he slept in the castle along with the rest of them. This was some kind of illusion, one of Mirvela’s tricks, perhaps with Count Washur’s complicity. She was trying to distract me when I was about to overcome her.

  I resumed my focus and discovered that she, who’d startled for a moment at the sound of Mordecai’s voice, had already done so. Her pointed teeth were close enough to the skin of my neck to nick it and draw blood.

  I pulled my hand back, my neck straining against her hold, and started pushing my magic outward again. I had to recoup lost momentum and I pushed with all my strength.

  We were moments away from a shift in reality, in which either I’d kill her or she’d kill me. We were a tangle of long red hair and black strands. It was I or she. Only one would leave this ocean, and only one of us was fueled by the stolen lives of others.

  Odds might be in her favor, except that I possessed an awareness of the five-petal knot she didn’t.

  The magic burst forth from my skin as I experienced the searing pain of teeth burning into the side of my neck.

  Then there was a blinding light that knocked loose every thought, presumption, and intention. Moments before I lost consciousness, I had three thoughts. That light was beautiful. If I have to die, then I’m glad that was my last sight, and not that of an unhinged merwitch eating me alive. And, I’m sorry, Marcelo. Because even though Gertrude would be devastated by my loss, and the others would lament it too, Marcelo had taken on a responsibility toward me. He’d had every person he ever loved ripped from him, and now I’d be gone too.

  Then I sunk to the ocean bottom and my eyes closed. How quick the fight was over, how peaceful the end.

  When my eyes squinted open, I closed them again. If I was indeed dead, then this was a strange afterlife. But after I attempted it another time, I realized I couldn’t be dead, because no afterlife I might imagine had a saggy old face with a saggy beard and worried eyes, free of their usual mischief.

  “Mordecai,” I grunted then pushed up onto my elbows. My eyes widened in shock and I quickly shut them again to process. I’d spoken aloud, I was sure of it. But I was underwater. If I could speak underwater, then perhaps the warning voice that sounded exactly like Mordecai’s had been his indeed. But if it was, then why would he warn me off of Mirvela? Was it to kill her himself and spare me the torment of having to end another person’s life?

  Was Mirvela under control? I needed to find out right away.

  But I hesitated to re-open my eyes because I realized what awaited them. When I’d looked at Mordecai moments before, I’d seen more than his face. A naked old man.

  I’d left my clothes behind on the shore before entering the water, and I agreed to the reasons for it. Clothing hampered agility in the water, and we needed every single advantage we could get. But… this was Mordecai, a three hundred and seventeen year old wizard.

  And he was naked… and looking wholly concerned for my well-being.

  Grow up, Clara, I said to myself. I steeled myself, opened my eyes, and trained them on Mordecai’s face, refusing to acknowledge the naked body attached to it.

  “Are you all right, Clara?” he asked, his focus on what was really important.

  “I think so,” I said and pushed onto my elbows, kicking up a bit of sand into the water around my head. I looked everywhere but at him. “Where’s Mirvela?”

  There were no more brilliant flashes of turquoise tail. But there was a body there—that had no tail. “Is that…? Wait, is that Grand-mère?”

  “Yes, child, that is your grandmother.”

  “I don’t understand. Is she okay?” Her body, also nude, laid, unmoving, twenty feet or so away from me on the ocean floor. It was dark again, but I could make out Grand-mère’s features and waves of crimson hair.

  “I think she’ll be all right, but it’s hard to be certain until she wakes.” Mordecai gazed at her worriedly, with a tenderness to his gaze that revealed what his words didn’t. He moved between us, hovering, the many small braids of his hair floating behind him, the colorful beads that capped them muted by the darkness.

  I reeled my gaze inward, as much to avoid seeing more of Mordecai than I could ever unsee as to wonder. The beam of light that shone on Mirvela was now absent. It must’ve been some sort of magic since we were too far down for the sunlight to reach, which implied that the merqueen did indeed have access to her magic—or at least some of it—even if Mordecai had bound it.

  Without Mirvela’s light, it should be too dark to see this deep. But I could make out Grand-mère and Mordecai, not well, but well enough. So light must be coming from somewhere.

  I looked to Mordecai. The farther he drifted from me and toward my grandmother, the darker it got.

  And then I realized what must be happening and looked down. It was me—or, it was that part of me that embodies all the magic of the world in one five-petal knot. My chest was glowing enough to dispel the worst of the darkness. A light emanated from between my bare breasts and colored my entire chest in an orange glow.

  It was becoming more difficult to conceal the kind of witch I was becoming. No other magicians I knew glowed with the magic they contained.

  Count Washur said he’d been waiting to collect my soul until I grew powerful enough. One look at me would be enough to convince him the time had passed.

  The stakes were too high to linger. I shook the daze off and swam toward Mordecai and Grand-mère, deciding I didn’t care that we were all naked. My time as a captive to Mirvela’s merworld had taught me that many of the habits of society on-land were unnecessary artifice. Particularly in the water, we didn’t need it. Were we really different than the fish that revealed their scales?

  I drew close to Grand-mère so the glow of the five-petal knot could reveal her face. There were no signs of injury and she looked peaceful in her slumber, at least that was something.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked Mordecai. “Why’s she underwater?”

&n
bsp; That’s when it occurred to me. This had all started with a dream so real to me that I’d believed it to be true. Perhaps this was another one. It would explain why Grand-mère and Mordecai were here on the ocean bottom instead of in their beds, where I’d left them. If indeed a dream, then maybe this was a warning message that I shouldn’t enter the water alone after all, that it’d be a mistake.

  But Mordecai dispelled my suspicion with a warbled chuckle. “Child, did you really think you’d be the only one to enter the ocean to try to spare those you love?”

  My mouth dropped open. I closed it when the water rushed in.

  “I wrote letters to Marcelo and Ariadne, explaining that I was going to go into the water and that I didn’t want them to follow. I implored them not to. I’m an old man. I’ve lived a full life far past what nature intended. My loss wouldn’t be a terrible one. I wanted to take the risk alone.” His eyes grew sad when they traced Grand-mère’s face. “I checked on Sylvia and Marcelo and left his letter. But when I went to do the same with Ariadne, the stubborn woman was absent from her bed, and I realized precisely where she must’ve gone.”

  He looked at me. “I raced to the bottom of the cliff, but by the time I reached the shore, she wasn’t there. But her clothing was, and so was yours.”

  So Grand-mère must have entered the sea after me. I hadn’t seen any sign that anyone from the castle had the same idea as I.

  “Navigating the dark ocean in the nighttime, when the magic of two dark magicians—bound or not—might be coursing through the water, isn’t easy. It took me longer than I would’ve liked to find either of you, and once I did, I’d almost arrived too late. You were seconds away from killing each other.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You and Ariadne were about to kill each other when I arrived and stopped you.”

  “No. I was about to kill Mirvela, and Mirvela was about to kill me. Not Grand-mère.”

  “My child, when will you learn? Nothing in magic is as it seems.”

  I bristled. I’d been trying damn hard to learn. No one, save perhaps Sir Lancelot, taught me much of anything. “I’ve been trying to learn magic for years. Even if none of you did much to teach me.” It was more blunt than I usually was. But I wasn’t usually underwater out to put a stop to a merwitch and an undead count.

  “Yes, well,” Mordecai said, doing little to deflect the blame. “Regardless, by the time I found you both, you were moments away from killing each other, and I’m not sure if either of you would’ve survived.”

  I crossed my arms across my chest out of habit and glared at him, not caring that I was angry and revealing it. I usually worked not to unleash my temper on others. But I was so finished with so many things right now, principal among them the way Mordecai and all magicians I’d met made me work so damn hard to get the information I needed. “Explain,” I ground out, the water doing little to soften the edge to my words.

  “Why don’t you explain what was going on to me?”

  I glared so hard at the elder magician that he continued.

  “Why would a grandmother and grandchild be trying to kill each other? I can only assume there was some kind of magic or illusion in place. What did you see?”

  My spirits sank for a moment before I could retrieve them. Why had I ever believed I was prepared to take on Mirvela and Washur? I should’ve required more convincing than a dream. I said, “I didn’t see Grand-mère. I saw Mirvela, and she was trying to kill me.”

  Mordecai sighed, releasing a bubble into the water. “No doubt, Ariadne must’ve seen Mirvela instead of you. Or something like it. Because if I hadn’t arrived when I did, at least one of you would be dead, and your soul might’ve become Count Washur’s.”

  That was a sobering possibility. My edge softened and I looked to my grandmother, the woman who’d been dead to me until a few days ago. The woman I didn’t want to even think about losing again. The grandmother I loved and nearly killed because of Mirvela’s dark magic or Count Washur’s or both.

  I looked to Mordecai. “We need to put an end to this. Now.”

  Mordecai nodded somberly, his beaded braids bobbing in slow motion behind him. “That we do. And soon. Before either one of them can cause more damage and before anyone in the castle wakes up to discover us gone and decides to follow.”

  I didn’t have to ask. I understood that they’d follow, running to the ocean in desperation to keep Grand-mère, Mordecai, and me from harm. I would. I already had.

  “But we stay together now,” Mordecai continued. “Together, we’re always stronger.”

  “And we have to remain alert to any more illusions and deceiving magic.”

  “Absolutely.”

  But I had no idea how to do that. The image of Mirvela I’d taken on had looked and behaved exactly like her. How was I supposed to realize the witch battling with me wasn’t the merqueen? How would I ever know if I couldn’t trust my eyes?

  That’s when I found my answer. There was only one way to see the truth when my eyes were fooled. I’d have to use my heart, and the five-petal knot within it, to discern the truth, for I believed my heart would always know—if I listened closely enough.

  How would Mordecai and Grand-mère know? I had no idea, but they’d studied magic for centuries longer than I had. They’d have a way.

  Yes, but then how come Grand-mère didn’t realize you weren’t Mirvela before? I had to hope that with an awareness of what might happen, Grand-mère and Mordecai would see it—before we could kill each other and do Mirvela and Count Washur’s evil deeds for them.

  After all, Grand-mère and Mordecai were obviously breathing underwater, and they’d to have a way to accomplish this that went beyond the intuitive directing of magic contained within a five-petal knot. And Mordecai was speaking to me. That certainly must be advanced magic.

  We could do this. We could find strength in our numbers and defeat our enemy.

  We’d have to.

  While we waited for Grand-mère to wake, I did everything I could to dispel my gnawing worry. We could do this, couldn’t we?

  Chapter 5

  Grand-mère woke far more alert than I expected. Sharp eyes looked from Mordecai to me and back again when she let out an irritated groan that bubbled through the water. She asked Mordecai, “Did what I’m thinking happened really happen?”

  “If you’re asking if Mirvela or Count Washur cast some kind of illusion over you and Clara to make you do the work of killing you for them, then yes.”

  “I can’t believe I fell for it! I should have known better!” She was furious.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Mordecai said. “You had no way of knowing that either one of them could do magic of this caliber. After all, they are bound, and I bound them. I’m sure their magic is still restricted—at least their own magic.”

  If Grand-mère’s delicate nostrils could flare underwater, they did then. “That’s no excuse. I should have known. We’d already considered that they might be able to access the magic from the magicians whose lives they stole. I just, I don’t know what happened. I guess I didn’t imagine for a moment that my dear Clara would have slipped away in the night to put herself in such danger.”

  The look Grand-mère gave me then wasn’t accusing. It seemed… curious, as if she were seeing me in a new light.

  Mordecai studied both of our faces. “Perhaps you just need some time to reacquaint yourself with your granddaughter. She seems to be very much like you.”

  “But to put yourself at such risk, Clara! What were you thinking?”

  I didn’t answer. She understood precisely what I was thinking, it was written all over her face. It was the same thing she’d been thinking: that we could spare those we cared for.

  After a few moments, she said, “You really thought you could take a merwitch as powerful as this one and a dark wizard who possesses the power of many magicians? By yourself?”

  Well, when she put it that way, it did seem like a ludicrous notion.
I’d already nearly died and killed my grandmother. “I thought I might be able to.” My voice was a squeak, and it had nothing to do with the water. I cleared my throat, which was ineffective within an ocean. “I seem to have powers that are different from everyone else’s. The Count hasn’t been able to anticipate what I do.” I left out the part where we hadn’t been able to predict what the Count was capable of either.

  Grand-mère was sitting on the ocean floor, from where she pinned me with a hard stare. “And what of Mirvela? Were you also planning to wow her with your magical uniqueness?” Her voice had a hard edge I didn’t remember from my youth, when she’d still been around.

  I didn’t feel great about my choices just then, but Grand-mère’s scolding was hurtful, and I wasn’t sure why. I’d done something foolish and dangerous, but it felt like a betrayal coming from her, when I’d been forced to do the best I could without her in my life. She could’ve made everything so much easier for me, yet she’d abandoned me. She could’ve found a way to remain in my life no matter what Mother and Father said. She could have written me a letter of explanation at the very least—something, anything.

  Even though I mostly agreed with her view on my choices that landed me in the water, I didn’t budge an inch. I just stared back at her.

  Finally, Grand-mère said, “I see what you mean, Mordecai, she’s very much like me.”

  I tilted my chin upward but said nothing.

  “So where do we find this nasty merwitch? I’ll tear her limb from limb when I get my hands on her. She almost made me kill my granddaughter. Well she’s going to pay for it, and pay dearly.”

  The way Mordecai’s eyes shone with pride, one might think she was speaking of rainbows and butterflies instead of vengeance.

  I’d never seen this side of Grand-mère before, and it was strange to observe such a raw, animalistic side to the lady of the aristocracy. But if anyone deserved her wrath, it was Mirvela or Count Washur.