Chapter 22
Maeve’s composure returned, her face poised as she stepped over the bodies of Malachite Sr. and his parents.
Her job was done, and she was fairly pleased with her work.
As she strode past Mal, who leaned on a pillar in the drawing-room, she lingered near him for a moment before continuing towards the door.
He gave the manor one last look. It was unspoken that they needn’t dawdle there.
Mal followed her out the door, whipping it closed with his hand, and together they began crossing back across the valley to Thaddeus Gagner’s shed of a home.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as he twisted the ring now placed on his finger.
It was a silver band, with two minuscule silver skulls holding the black stone on either side.
It had only taken a moment for Mal to perform a second Vexkari and conceal part of his Magic in the Dread Ring, as they deemed it. Neither of them could deny the power radiating from the stone, which led to Mal’s desire to make it his second Vexkari.
She had never seen such a powerful display of dark magic. It blew out the walls of the Peur House, destroying what the Humans called electricity. They had learned about it in Human Studies at Vaukore.
It was a curious invention on their part, though. Almost like Magic.
The act of Vexkari appeared excruciating, just as Mal described.
He was on all fours by the end, panting.
As he performed the spell, Maeve attempted to illuminate the tip of her fingers.
They produced no light. There was a faint circle of wispy black smoke that fully surrounded Mal.
An ancient and unfamiliar tongue resonated from his mouth.
When Mal screamed the loudest, swirling black clouds of magic cracked from his mouth, barreling into the ring.
Maeve attempted to take a step towards him through the smoke, only to be shot backward and hit the wall.
She grabbed her head in pain, kept her distance, and watched in awe until it was finished.
The black smoke disappeared through the open window, and Mal’s breathing began to regulate itself. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, and took a few deep breaths. He leaned back on his knees and looked up at the portrait of Artemis Orion, exhausted. His face was pale.
Maeve squinted through the haze. She would have sworn his cheekbones sat higher, more pronounced now. His head hung once more.
“Mal?” She called.
Maeve looked down at him with a questioning look. He looked up at her triumphantly. She sighed with relief and returned his satisfied smirk.
Mal’s pace was routinely fast, as they had already reached the woods once more. They entered The Gagner House to find Thaddeus just as they had left him.
Unconscious.
“That’s not surprising,” commended Maeve.
The compliment didn’t go unnoticed, though Mal’s expression remained cold.
Maeve positioned herself in front of Thaddeus. Placing her fingers at her temple, she pulled forward the false memory of The Peur family’s murders she created. The silvery black substance hung from her fingertips like dripping glue.
“You are certain?” She asked Mal. “I hate to do it to him.”
“I am certain.” Came Mal’s voice from behind her.
She didn’t argue. She knew they had to cover themselves. The Double O had been here before. They had suspected Mary Gagner was Magical in some way. And Thad made it easy for them to incriminate him. He admitted he had already tried to kill Mal’s father once.
She closed her eyes, reached out with her free hand and touched Thad’s forehead. His mind was like butter, and all his memories blurred in and out of focus.
She worked swiftly in what felt like record time, planting the false memory in his mind. She erased all memories of herself and Mal meeting Thaddues. She released his mind for a moment, only to return and extract the new memory herself. She opened her eyes and looked up at Mal.
“Would you like to see?” Asked Maeve.
Mal merely raised his eyebrows, but Maeve was used to reading his silences by now. She rose from her knees and tapped the silver string hanging on the tip of her fingers into Mal’s temple.
He submerged for only a minute before coming back. Maeve had to suppress her anxiousness, even though she knew the charm to be without fault.
His eyes opened as she pulled the memory out. It dangled at her fingers.
“Brilliant,” he said.
With a confident swish of her arm, she tossed the memory into Thad’s muddled brain.
There would be no confusion about who murdered Malachite Senior and his parents. If anyone cared to search his mind for evidence, they would see no trace of Mal or Maeve, only Thad himself. When Thad awoke, he would think nothing other than that he himself had killed them.
With a wave of Mal’s hand, the door to the Gagner shack of a house slammed shut. Maeve didn’t follow him down the hillside to his mother’s grave. He stared at it only for a moment before traveling back up the hill and the pair began their journey to a summer at Sinclair Estates.