Chapter 9
lowri gulps the fallow fog brew. This piece of the fog, the shadow magic of Fallow, is only enough to give her the strength to eat and get up.
Her veins are still ink-riddled, her eyes like chips of obsidian.
Pallid and weak, she knows she cannot restore herself on these sips of magic.
She needs a better solution. And perhaps the grimalkin of this world are exactly the cure she needs. Perhaps they are like familiars.
She cannot speak to Eli or Ethlet. She cannot give away the secret Nova whispered to her as a child, of that on which a familiar feeds, and how they bond with their witch.
But if Gracious fed too much, too voraciously, it could follow that he ended up like this.
A creature bloated with shadow magic. She did not know it was possible; Nova never spoke of this.
She had only ever taken what she needed and what Lowri, her witch, could offer up.
‘How do I know you won’t give me too much?’ Lowri whispers to Gracious when Eli and Ethlet both leave the sitting room. The grimalkin is not bonded to her. The push and pull of magic between them is not intuitive. Gracious could expel shadow magic and weigh Lowri down with far too much.
I suppose you will have to trust me.
‘Trust a creature so greedy he took so much magic that it changed his form?’
Gracious hisses, tail twitching.
‘You have a temper. That bodes well,’ she remarks dryly.
And you’re extremely stubborn. Every hour you refuse the deal, you sink further towards death.
Lowri shrugs, but her nonchalance is a front.
She taps her fingertips against the empty mug, considering her options, which are all too few.
If she doesn’t accept this creature’s help, she knows the Fallow Fog brews will only preserve her strength temporarily, but not restore her.
And she will leave Eli here alone. She will never return to Nova, or Brielle or Caden …
which to her is intolerable. She’s only just left Coven Septern, only just tasted freedom.
And, given what they have discovered about the ruling council, the depictions they found of the Rexilium brothers in the Fallow Museum …
well. They have to return. They have to warn everyone.
Are you ready yet, witch? Or must you be crossing death’s threshold before you agree to the deal.
Lowri closes her eyes, wanting to shut this world out. Wanting to be back at Ennor Castle when she opens them. But all she can see is her own demise. ‘Is this going to hurt?’
Probably.
‘Excellent.’
So, you agree?
She opens her eyes and stares at the grimalkin before finally nodding.
When the grimalkin reaches out a paw, brushing her fingertips, her mind implodes with darkness.
She cannot breathe. Her thoughts turn to panic as Eli bursts into the room, as dark blots out her vision.
She tries calling to him, but she cannot.
And she realises she may have made the biggest mistake of all in trusting this creature from another world.
Lowri senses storm and shadow, a construct of thunder and rain, but no light.
Then the darkness recedes, her vision returning, and she watches Gracious as he places a soft paw on her chest. In the stillness between heartbeats, there’s a shift, deep within her.
A weight, the harsh edges of burnout, begin to peel away, and she feels warmth skipping over the ice in her blood.
Looking down at her arms, she gasps as the black ink of her veins fades slightly, as her magic sparks inside her.
She is suddenly aware of Eli shouting her name and she looks up at him, standing there across the room. But she is in an impenetrable storm of magic with Gracious.
I have given enough, witch. Now, it’s up to you.
All at once, the heavy storm surrounding them lifts and she blinks steadily at the grimalkin.
Now, Gracious is not only shadow. She can see his features, a pale twitching nose, a fleck to his fur.
And, if she’s not mistaken, there’s an amber sheen to his eyes.
Before, he seemed almost formless as he moved.
Now there are bones and claws shifting within all that shadow. She realises how like Nova he is.
Thank you, witch.
‘You can call me Lowri,’ she says as Eli exhales in relief across the room. ‘Is a grimalkin another name for a familiar? You are very like Nova.’
Not exactly, although you could say they are sisters to our kind, he says, then licks his paw delicately.
Familiars are always hungry, siphoning slowly but consistently, unless they have not bonded with a witch, whereas we absorb too much all at once.
And here there is only shadow. In another world, perhaps I would be a house cat and would spend my time catching mice.
‘Always hungry?’ Lowri asks, scrunching her nose, her mind catching on those words. Nova has never drained her of magic completely, but they are bonded. Now that Nova is cut off from her, has been left behind, she cannot feed at all on Lowri’s excess of magic …
The grimalkin yawns, jumping off her lap to wander to the fireside. It’s why there are no familiars in our world. No witches for them to bond with.
Lowri’s eyes dart to Eli’s. ‘Where is Nova?’
‘She’s with Brielle. Hunting for wraiths to form a new coven,’ Eli says quietly.
‘Skies …’ Lowri breathes as it suddenly hits her what Nova has planned.
Wraiths are formed by too much magic, a lack of control as it vibrates, explodes out of a witch’s skin and bones.
They are walking calamities of magic – volatile and destructive.
But perhaps to a familiar they are something else entirely.
A food source, and a big one. It dawns on her why Nova chose her, why she rarely wants to be apart from her.
But now she’s on a quest in their world, looking for something to sate her hunger in Lowri’s absence.
She swallows, searching Eli’s eyes, seeing the knowledge drop like a stone inside him too. ‘She’s gone with Brielle to feed.’
Eli pushes back his hair, features troubled, as Ethlet walks in. She pauses, eyeing Gracious then Lowri, a frown forming. ‘What …?’
Lowri clears her throat, staring pointedly at Gracious. ‘There is something this grimalkin needs to share with you about his kind.’
As Lowri walks the streets of Fallow with Eli the next morning, she feels different. No longer entirely burned-out, but not quite herself yet either. Too much shadow, Gracious told her. It’s overpowering the light in your blood. You need time. You need to regenerate.
‘Could Nova have healed you?’ Eli asks.
‘No, I don’t think so. Familiars are not the same as grimalkin. I’ve never come across a creature that can do what Gracious can. Give magic like that, after absorbing it like a sponge.’
‘But because there is not enough light magic in this world …’
‘Shadow was all he had to share,’ Lowri finishes. ‘But if you hadn’t brought me here I would have died. I would have burned out. That your father had the creature that could heal a witch …’
Eli reaches for Lowri’s fingertips and squeezes them. ‘No more talk of you dying. You know you’re my favourite cousin.’
‘What about Caden?’ Lowri asks in mock shock.
Eli grins, some of his old swagger returning. ‘He’s my favourite almost-brother.’
They step round a woman and a small child wearing shoes with little pink cat faces and continue into a gated garden.
As they walk the gravelled paths, crunching past an array of grey and black flowers and trees, Lowri considers Ethlet’s words: that Isaiah believed this world just needed a source of light magic strong enough to restart it.
‘So now that I’m not about to collapse every few minutes, should we discuss why we’re really here? ’
Eli sighs. ‘My father. His work. His knowledge of this place.’
‘Just so.’
‘But now we know about the Rexilium brothers, and who they are in our world, it changes everything.’
‘We still need to find out more about them, though. We can’t just rush back, we need to understand their motives, their weaknesses. Then return, ready to expose them, to take them out.’
Eli pauses, crouching down to examine a black rose.
‘I walked in a walled garden like this one in Highborn when I brought Mira to the coven. She gave such a huge piece of herself then.’ He draws in a breath.
‘I miss her like I miss half my soul. The thought of her in danger, of her believing she is safe when really—’
‘We will return to her,’ Lowri says, placing a hand on his arm. ‘She will be safe again. We all will. But we need answers first. We cannot help those we love without the information that Fallow can offer. I know you miss her.’
He nods, releasing the rose, and they resume their walk. ‘When did you become so wise?’
She puts her arm through his. ‘When I realised my cousin and my brother really, truly listened to me.’
‘Time to pay a visit to this Society Ethlet spoke of, then?’
‘Yes,’ Lowri agrees. ‘It’s time to see where your father developed his work. We’ll ask Ethlet to request an audience, but …’
‘Yes?’
‘How do I phrase this?’ She sighs. ‘You should keep searching your father’s study. Keep looking through any notes he left behind. This Society do not appear to have helped Ethlet, and they have not undone the fog. Knowing how ancient organisations work in our world, well …’
‘I should keep my wits about me?’
‘We do not know everything about this world yet. This Society may welcome us. But we have to be prepared in case they don’t.’