I’m no stranger to grief, but I’m not sure how to move forward. One doesn’t just walk away from a fae and I’m no exception. My voice and hearing returned when I woke up at the healers clinic, just under a week ago now. But I was alarmed to discover that my magick was gone. Something happened when the fae speared itself through my chest. No one has answers for me yet.
A shallow emptiness remains there, even though the lancinating pain from that night is long over. I sit up in bed and attempt a simple spell to smooth the creases in my nightgown. “With my warm hands I press all wrinkles from this dress.” But the pull of my magick still feels dimmed, like a candle wick that won’t catch the flame.
I cover my face with shaking hands and press them tightly over my eyes as I fall back on my pillow. A tremor racks my body as I stifle a scream of frustration. Lying there, fully awake for the next few hours, I wait for the sun to rise, replaying the encounter with the fae endlessly in my mind. My parents and grandparents. Generations of family. The absence of my magick is palpable, separating me from that long Mayweather heritage that came to my aid that night. My connection to them, and even to my coven, severed for now, maybe forever. I’ve never felt more alone.
Chapter 1
Norrell
“Afae attacked where?” I roar, causing my irksome cousin Torman, the bearer of this news, to take an involuntary step backward.
“Monstera Bluff. I was told it was an inside job, a group of warlocks invited in a fae to get rid of some human they did not like.Idiots. All of them. The New York City coven took over the investigation of that evidently incompetent settlement and reached out forourhelp. Asking us to join some assembly. Only the blue hag of winter knows why they thought our clan would care. I told them right where they could put that invitation. They should clean up their own mess and not bother us again. We have no need to get swept up in their trivial business. But I know you have spent time in this place, so I thought you would find it amusing,” he relays with a smug grin on his face, not seeming to understand the gravity of the news.
His obliviousness is either a mark of stupidity or a blatant show of disrespect. Not that I would expect otherwise from him. I have covered for his uselessness time and time again, at great personal expense. And this is yet another situation I must mitigate.
Even if it happened somewhere other than Monstera Bluff it would be beyond callous to dismiss the situation. I was raised by my parents, both noble hunters, to be in service of this clan and to all Whispered Folk through our commitment to defend the powerful magick of the True North from the scourge of Malefic Folk. We all were. But Torman’s and my interpretations of that are markedly different. He would have us all stick our heads in a snow drift and pretend that no other Whispered Folk exist. If the world melted around us, he would not notice until he was face-deep in a puddle. He takes after his father, our former clan leader, in that belief. Thus, I have as much esteem for him as I do his intolerant and dogmatic father. None.
“Fire of the frost, your shortsightedness is astounding. How dare you make that judgment without my authorization? And then insult the most respected coven in the world, on top of that? You are acting out of turn, cousin, as if any of this was your choice to make. If you wanted the perks of leadership so badly, you could have donesomethingto earn it. Do noteverspeak on my behalf again. Get out of my sight, or I will show you exactly why the Arctic wraiths fear me!” I seethe, my face twisting in disgust.
His expression is dumbfounded, like he cannot fathom that I would not have the same heartless antagonism toward an appeal for help. Turning on his heel, he flounces out of my office, clearly thrown off balance by my reprimand. He has always coveted my role as leader of our clan despite being completely unsuited for it, wanting all the glory without putting in the hard work.
I never wanted to lead the clan, but his laziness as a young hunter left him woefully unprepared, so it fell to me. As the son of our last leader as well as my cousin, he was forced on me as an advisor. It is just another means for him to wield his incompetence. I catch him pushing boundaries where he can. But this is a step too far. I must take matters into my ownhands, it seems. I cannot trust anyone else in my clan to take this seriously. They made me their leader, demanded it of me. Now they get to live with the consequences. While I agree we need to keep our autonomy, we do not have to ignore serious struggles within the Whispered Folk world to do so.
There is a balance to strike. It will not be easy, but it is possible. We yetis are not hairy oafs, lumbering single-mindedly around snowcapped peaks and icy tundras, striking down any Malefic Folk we cross. We serve a noble purpose, one that has given us a near mythical status among the Whispered Folk. Why not use that to our advantage instead of a reason to further isolate ourselves? The extent of our abilities does not need to be common knowledge, nor how we repurpose the Malefic’s twisted, violent magick. Many in our clan believe that if our unique abilities became widespread knowledge, we would be treated like a threat rather than a faraway self-governing community. The irony is lost on them that this mindset is borne from the same fear and prejudice they want to avoid. It will not be a popular decision, but we are uniquely positioned to help in situations like this where the stability of the Whispered Folk world is in question. We will answer their plea, one way or another.
Working my jaw back and forth, I think on the best course of action. There is no trusting my cousin to cooperate on this matter. Whoever he spoke with may not entertain a call from us again. I should reach out to someone at the witch academy I visited so many years ago. At the time, I had not wanted to leave the clan, but the elders insisted I learn what I could from the great library they amassed over centuries. It changed the course of my life. I never would have crossed paths with my mate otherwise.
I kept in touch with one of the deans, a canny witch named Esmeralda Jurado. She showed herself to be an ally when theschool was approached by my clan to gain entrance to me. Her guidance when I arrived, organizing a discreet curriculum for my studies, made my time there productive. But it was Ada who made it unforgettable. I shake my head clear before more vivid memories parade across my mind. Dean Jurado will give me the full story and help coordinate my assistance if it is truly needed.
Time may be of the essence, so I call her immediately. She picks up after the first ring. “Norrell, I thought you may have lost my number. What a pleasant surprise to hear from you after so long,” she chastens me without any real sharpness.
“Greetings, Dean Jurado. I would never do such a thing. But I apologize for not checking in sooner. It has been a few years since we last spoke,” I express regretfully.
“Call me Esmeralda. You have not been my student for a long time, so no need for formalities,” she reminds me.
“If you wish, Esmeralda. I only want to show you the respect you are due,” I acknowledge, remaining deferential to her ongoing role as a mentor in my life.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, but I hope that we have been friends long enough that we can skip the titles. Though I’m happy to call you Huntmaster of the True North if you’d prefer it,” she cajoles.
“Your point is made. I try my best to forget that title,” I grumble, failing to keep a bitter note out of my voice.
“It’s an important one, though I know what it cost you. You are the leader your clan needs,” she sympathizes.
“Sometimes I believe the clan has completely ossified,” I confess. “They remain in a dark age, unable to be convinced we can thrive around witches and other magickal Whispered Folk. It is such a long-held conviction that I do not know how to prove otherwise to them.”
“If anyone can, it’s you and your brother who will change their hearts and minds. I know there’s a lot of clan historyyou can’t tell me, but the Whispered Folk, especially witches, understand that your fight against the Malefic helps us all. They are a menace even without the dangerous boost of power from the wild magick that concentrates at the poles. Ah, but I don’t need towitch-splainthat to you. I just want you to know that you will have support from us. How ever your people stop them, we won’t interfere,” she promises.
“I believe you. But this obvious logic has not swayed them,” I vent, my voice overloud. I take a deep breath, not wanting to take out my frustration with my clan and my cousin on her. When I compose myself, I continue, “They barely tolerate contact with Whispered Folk who have no whiff of magick. Like proximity alone taints our community. My life, everything I have given up for the clan, will be a waste if I do not succeed in changing this.”
“There must be some consolation, some measurable progress you’ve made. They will follow your lead when the time is right. But you’re correct that you gave up… someone… very important. Ada, she is…” Esmeralda pauses, like she is mulling over her words. She exhales a shaky breath before she speaks again. “Norrell, I’m not sure how to tell you this. She was gravely injured by the fae that entered Monstera Bluff. She’s alive, physically uninjured, but her magick… it’s gone and we can’t figure out why. She fought off the fae almost single-handedly. The protective ward around her family home manifested itself in the strangest way, as members of her family, casting spells through them. It helped her as much as it could. But the fae was much more powerful than it should have been. It managed to touch her and drain her magick before her coven finally weakened and contained it.”
My blood runs cold as I listen to Esmeralda describe what happened to Ada. Her magick is gone—the very thing that alienated her from my clan. My poor ember in the frost, itmust have been terrifying. I remain mute, silently stewing over Ada’s suffering, as Esmeralda goes on to recount the events in Monstera Bluff leading up to the attack. The deception of three power-hungry warlocks who unleashed evil in an apparent attempt to take control of the town. Ada thwarting their plan, nearly by herself. She is even more remarkable than I remember. It is a miracle that she lives.
Even if the fae only drained her magick, it should come back after a period of rest. It is not quite the way of the yeti, but the coincidence is too great to ignore. We drain magick, but from a distance, nullifying spells, and eventually weakening Malefic Folk like fae, wendigos, wraiths, and banshees until they are unable to defend themselves. Then we strike them down if they prove too stupid or determined to turn tail and run. Most are. It could be the fae placed a curse on her. Knowing them as I do, it will be something as nasty as it is powerful.
The days of the North Clan eschewing their involvement in the Whispered Folk world are officially over. Wild work of frost, if this is not a clear sign, I do not know what is. As Esmeralda mentions leadership and experts from across the Whispered Folk world joining a so-called safety council convening in Monstera Bluff, I interrupt her, “There is much I know about fae magick. I should be there representing the North Clan. Who must I speak to about this?”
“I hoped you’d be stirred to action. The council needs you and your experience with Malefic Folk. Ada may not know it yet, but she’ll need you too,” Esmeralda advises.
