The Bitter Seed of Magic (A Spellcrackers Novel) (49 page)

‘It’ll wear off in time, doll.’ He gave an unconcerned wave that didn’t convince me one bit.

I frowned. ‘You do know the “horn in the stomach” bit wasn’t personal . . . ?’

‘Aye, and ’twas a guid trick you played on the Morrígan, and it’s all worked out for the best in the end’ – he grinned, serrated teeth white against his green-black skin, and I flinched: maybe I wasn’t quite forgiven yet – ‘but nae doubt you can think of a way tae make it up tae me?’

Then again, he was a tricky wylde fae, so forgiveness was going to come at a price. I narrowed my eyes. ‘What does “make it up to you” mean?’

Just as he was about to tell me, Sylvia rushed up, her pink cycle helmet askew, and enveloped me in a cherry-blossom-scented hug. ‘Gosh, Genny, you’ll never guess what?’ Her eyes shone with joy. ‘I’m with child. The first full-blood fae in eighty years. That’s why we’re all having the party.’ Ricou stood behind her, his mouth open in his wide yawn-grin, and his headcrest proudly erect.

‘Wow,’ I said, stunned, and returned her beaming smile with one of my own, then had a weird nauseous moment as Helen’s ‘baby memory’ kicked back in, and the sapphire pendant with its Fertility spell appeared in Sylvia’s ‘Hello, Boys!’ cleavage, tucked next to Grace’s gold pentacle. ‘Congratulations’ – I hugged her again – ‘that’s amazing news, and really,
really
superfast!’

‘I kno-
ow
!’ Sylvia squealed in delight. ‘The baby’s going to be a Christmas seedling; isn’t that totally wonderful?’

It was utterly and unbelievably wonderful. And Sylvia’s news lifted a thousand-ton weight off my shoulders. Now the fae’s fertility was returned, and working, I wasn’t the one who had to have a child to break the curse. Relief overwhelmed me, and I made my excuses, then found a quiet corner to try and take it all in.

Tavish joined me, leaning his shoulder against the bronze-plaque wall, his expression curious. ‘I heard tell the witch knocked you out, then almost stripped you in her efforts to retrieve the spell?’

Well, that explained why my clothes had been trashed. ‘Good job I gave it to one of the vamps’ –
Darius, my fang-pet
– ‘to give to Sylvia then.’ I shot him a wry smile. ‘I wasn’t sure who else was after it, or for what.’

He traced the neckline of my T-shirt. ‘And I’m joyful tae see you nae wearing your friend’s pentacle, doll. It wasnae right tae hold her soul so long after its time.’

Tears stung my eyes – my own, this time. It had taken me a while to realise that it was Grace who was the one upset and causing me to cry, and that until I’d given the pentacle to Sylvia, Grace couldn’t move on. ‘I hope she’s happy,’ I murmured, ‘wherever she is.’

‘Well, doll, I’m thinking this will maebe cheer you up.’ He touched his hand to my forehead and muttered something under his breath, then pointed at Sylvia. ‘Look quickly now, for my loan of the
sight
’twill nae last long.’

Sylvia was surrounded by a soft sheen of magic, and within it was a beautiful, shifting pattern, like glossy leaves dappled with sun and shadow – her soul, protected by her aura, I realised in wonder. But the truly breathtaking sight was the radiant star of hot-gold light that graced her throat and trailed a stream of pure fire to the almost imperceptible glow flickering to life in her womb.

I stared in stunned amazement until the lights and colours round Sylvia dimmed and she was back to looking like her usual self, and a feeling of peace settled in me.

‘Och, doll, there’s nae need for tears,’ Tavish’s soft burr came beside me. ‘’Tis the way of life for souls to take up with a new shell, and now you’ll ken where your friend will be.’

I brushed my hand over my face, wiping away the wetness there and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ I said, and kissed his cheek.

‘A kiss is fine thanks, but ’tis more than that I’m wanting.’ His mouth curved in a sly smile as he handed me a letter.

I shot him a puzzled look, then opened it. I read it and looked up in shock. ‘This says that I’m the new owner of Spellcrackers?’ I checked the date. ‘Since two days ago?’

‘Aye, apparently you dinna like to be telt what’s what by your boss.’

‘I can’t take this,’ I said, holding it out to him. ‘Spellcrackers belongs to Finn.’

‘Och, doll, if you dinna take it, then the kid will nae have a thing to come back to.’ He pulled a disgusted face. ‘The herd will give it tae one of his prissy brothers.’

That didn’t sound good.
‘Well, in that case—’ I folded it up and slipped it in my pocket. ‘I’ll keep it for now.’

Tavish picked me up and swung me round, then planted a much-too-happy kiss on my mouth. ‘So, now you’re the new boss, I’m thinking you’re about tae give me a job and make things up t’me.’

‘You don’t need a job,’ I said drily, wondering what he was up to.

He chuckled. ‘What’s need got to do wi’ it, when you’ve a Chastity spell that needs
cracking
, and I’ve always had a hankering to be the fae’s Sam Spade.’ He flung an arm round my shoulders and winked. ‘But that’s for tomorrow, doll, for now, come and join in the celebrations.’

 

Writing a book is part fun, part challenge, part tearing-out-of-hair and all hard work, and this book turned out to be harder work than most. But any book isn’t just hard work for the author, but for all those folk who encourage and support it on its way from shiny new idea, through pounding of keyboards, those bad hair days, and on to publication. My deepest thanks and appreciation to everyone who has helped this book on that journey; any errors are all my own.

 

Thanks to John Jarrold, my intrepid agent, for his belief in me; to the Gollancz crew for their support and commitment; and especially to Jo Fletcher, editor extraordinaire, for her patience and excellent work in continuing to make my books so much better, and for buying three more of Genny’s adventures. Yay!

 

Thanks to David (
Eagle Rising
) Devereux for letting me bend his ear about ‘dead bodies’, and to Gareth (
Falcata Times
) Wilson for kindly lending his name to one of my characters; and a special shout-out to the wonderful Mardel (
Rabid Reader
) for all her epic emails, and for loving Genny & Co.

 

Thanks to Jaye (the Sabina Kane vampire series) Wells for not only being a stellar crit partner, and a brilliant, funny writer (go buy her books!), but for letting me ‘steal’ –
an apple a day keeps the vampires away
. Thanks to my superb, superfast beta readers: Hasna Saadani (
The Book Pushers
) and Amanda Rutter (
Floor to Ceiling Books
), you ladies rock! And to Karen Duvall, to whom I owe thanks for her insightful help with
The Cold Kiss of Death
(mea culpa).

 

Thanks to the Thursday Writers, a truly inspiring bunch, for all their help and encouragement: Malcolm Angel, Alison Aquilina, Judy Monckton, and Doreen Cory, who have travelled this amazing journey with me from the start. And massive thanks to BFF Fiona Mackenzie for her endless suffering through many drafts, her dedication to Genny & Co. and her masterful debunking of the paranoia goblins when the muse deserts me.

 

To Norman, my love, my best friend and the light in my life, without you the dreams would not be possible, or mean as much – thank you, now and always.

 

And last, but not least, to all those readers who have read, enjoyed and taken my books into their hearts – I hope you enjoy this one, and a huge, huge ‘thank you’ to you all.

 

Suzanne McLeod
Dorset
August 2010

 

THE SWEET SCENT OF BLOOD
THE COLD KISS OF DEATH
THE BITTER SEED OF MAGIC