The Bitter Seed of Magic

Chapter Forty-Five

The water bubbled, the bronze beneath it turning it into molten gold. The eel reared up, and up, its body long and sinuous, then it twisted down and round and snapped sharp teeth in my face. Adrenalin-laced fear shot through me, but I forced myself not to move, to keep my hands in the water. Magic shivered over the eel’s skin, turning it a pale, luminous green. Its bald head flared, eyes growing large and glinting acid-yellow, skin splitting into holes where her nostrils should be, her slash of a mouth plumping until her lips puckered into a blood-filled pout. Below the face, bumps sprouted into rounded shoulders, extended into long, lithe arms and ended in elegant hands with thin, claw-tipped fingers that clutched and grasped at the air. Under the arms, the eel’s body thickened, morphing into a slender torso with high, full breasts, and then swept down to a narrow waist which tapered into the eel’s dark writhing body. The thin gold chain of tinkling keys was fastened around her left wrist and twisted tightly round her human-shaped half, continuing round the eel’s like a golden vine winding around a willowy tree until it disappeared into the bubbling golden water below.

‘Little sidhe,’ she said huskily, looking down at me and smiling. The smile was a predatory pucker of her blood-plumped lips that framed her one protruding tooth. ‘I have long waited for your call. I do not appreciate those who are tardy, or casual with my tasks. It will cost you dear.’

My stomach tied itself in knots. Damn goddesses and their timekeeping—just because time travels differently in the Fair Lands and she’d spent however many days, weeks or years waiting, it didn’t mean it was my fault. Not to mention that tasks was taking it a bit far. ‘You visited me yesterday, Morrígan.’ I lifted my chin. ‘I’d hardly call that a long time.’

Her forked tongue flicked out, swiping across my mouth. I tensed, managing not to flinch. ‘You taste of truth,’ she murmured, then she clasped my face, her clawed fingers digging sharp into my skull. ‘I will excuse you this transgression,’ and she lowered her mouth to mine, pressing a hard kiss against my lips. ‘But I fear others will not be as forgiving as I.’ She jerked the gold chain up.

The water boiled up like a well-spring, crashing over me. The force knocked me flying and I landed flat on my back. I swiped my wet hair out of my face in time to see the sleek green-black shape of the kelpie horse erupt out of the pool. He reared up above me, front legs flailing in anger, and I froze, not daring to move as he dropped back to all fours, front hooves thudding to the ground inches from my shoulders. He tossed his head, his tangled, beaded mane spraying water droplets in high arcs, then pushed his soft muzzle into my face and snorted. Hot whisky-peat breath seared my cheeks.

‘Hello, Tavish,’ I murmured, breathing in his scent, and before I could stop it, his magic. A glorious liquid languor spread through my body, drawing an expectant sigh from my mouth, washing all thoughts but him from my mind and raising my own Glamour. Honeysuckle fragranced the air, my skin glowed gold, and my magic spilled out and rippled over the kelpie horse like a stream in full flow—

And Tavish in his human form was on his hands and knees above me. He stared down at me, his silver-coloured eyes swirling, his bead-tipped dreads hanging like a curtain around our faces, hiding us from view.

‘Hello, doll,’ he said quietly. He grinned, his sharp-pointed teeth white against his green-black skin. ‘’Tis guid to see you, though you took your ain sweet time coming for me. The Morrígan’s been riding me ragged.’

I grinned back, struck by his Charm, and his magic eddied inside me, sending longing swimming through my veins. I reached up and traced the sharp, angular planes of his alluring face, his long, straight nose, his pointed chin, then stroked the delicate black-lace gills at his throat. His eyes closed, a shudder running through his sleek muscular body, as he murmured softly in encouragement. I looked down between us to see him in all his naked glory. ‘Not that ragged,’ I whispered, my stomach contracting in anticipation. Oh boy … Then his words penetrated my mind, and I frowned. This was wrong. I wasn’t here for this, but for—

A loud screech rent the air, and Tavish disappeared from above me.

The Morrígan’s anger-etched features replaced him as I stared up at her, stunned into immobility.

Her eyes bored like lasers into mine as her body writhed inches above my own. ‘You are as addled as the rest of your cursed blood, little sidhe.’ Her husky voice was filled with vitriol. ‘One look and you are prepared to cast all aside for love and beauty.’

One look? Tavish had hit me with a gut-load of kelpie Charm, and she knew it.

She reared up and lifted her face up to the heavens and shouted, ‘Clíona, my sister, see what wretched misery you have wrought! My children are dying and your blood lies here, as weak now as it has always been.’ A double-edged dagger appeared in her clawed hand. ‘I will gouge her heart from her body, and destroy your cursed blood, and make an end to this.’

She raised the knife above her head, started it on its downward curve …

Fucking goddesses and their tests. And what the hell was she talking about Clíona’s blood for?

I jack-knifed my knees up to my chest and kicked out and up, catching her in her midriff just above where her human-shaped body joined to the eel’s. She flew backwards with another ear-splitting screech and I scrambled up to find her swinging back towards me, like a snake dancing to the charmer’s whistle, tooth bared, knife in hand. I rolled to the side, feeling the knife slice through the skin of my shoulder like— Well, like a sharp knife through flesh. The pain barely registered.

Desperately I grabbed the nearest thing: the long scimitar-shaped bull’s horn; it was lighter than I expected. Gripping it with both hands, the point curving upwards, I thrust it towards her on her next swing past, but I missed again and stumbled as her blade nicked a stinging line across the front of my throat. I backed up, feeling my blood trickle over my clavicle. I needed to put some space between us, but the Morrígan’s damned eel body kept growing longer and longer, stretching out in zigzags behind her as she slithered menacingly across the grass towards me.

I reached the edge of the circle, my pulse thundering in my ears and my shoulders buzzing against the static of blood magic. My gut clenched in fear as I wiped my hand over my throat and it came away painted in blood. The honey-copper scent was slightly nauseating. How the hell was I going to get out of this? Plenty of sharp implements at my feet— But grabbing one of them meant breaking the circle, and losing myself in the emptiness outside the circle wasn’t part of the master plan. But then, neither was fighting a goddess. Trouble was, not fighting wasn’t an option, unless I wanted my heart cut out.

I gripped the thick end of the bull’s horn, calculating her approach, then swayed—and realised, almost too late, that all her shifting about was making me dizzy. She smiled, acid-yellow eyes glinting maliciously as she rose up, twenty-odd feet above me until her pale green bald head brushed the inside of the translucent blood-dome. She angled the knife in her hand, and my legs shook as she gave another gut-wrenching shriek and dived at me. I held my breath, waiting until the last possible moment, then I flung myself forward, turned and stabbed the bull’s horn through the eel part of her body and into the ground below—

A heart-hollowing bellow rent the air as I scrambled onto my hands and knees, expecting to feel her knife plunging into my back at any moment. I half-crawled, half-ran until I hit the opposite side of the circle, where I collapsed into a panting heap.

The Morrígan was swaying about, five feet above the grass, and looking down, apparently nonplussed, at the bull’s horn pinning her eel body to the ground.

Shit. All she had to do was pluck it out.

I needed another weapon. I looked towards the bronze pool, thinking of the little silver knife with which I’d cut my hand and wondering if I could get to it before the Morrígan did the obvious—

Tavish was lying next to the pond, his head propped on his bent arm, idly flipping the knife through his fingers. Next to him was the bottle of Jameson’s, now half-empty. Looked like he’d been enjoying the entertainment.

‘Telt you nae tae trust me, doll.’ He grinned, but his eyes were pewter-dark with suppressed anger. ‘Telt you, I’m nae longer my own master, but you didnae listen.’