Darla looks thoughtful while we argue, ignoring us in favor of her own thoughts. “We should try to find out where the fae are coming from and why they’re here. It will resist, but any clue is worth finding out.” The abruptness of her question cools off the heated words slung between us.
“I will try another day,” he responds to her, sounding doubtful. “We will be lucky if I can force it to divulge anything useful. Much of it may be hard to interpret. Fae minds are so different than ours. Undoubtedly their realm must be as well.”
My gaze travels between Darla and Niven. “It mentioned ‘extinguishing the Mayweather line’. Do you think it had anything to do with Ada’s parents’ death?” I ask, dreading the possibility.
Niven sighs. “I honestly don’t know. We will follow that line of questioning next time. I’m not sure I can take more of it today,” he answers honestly. “But I know in my bones there’s more that damnable fae is still hiding from us. It thinks it has the upper hand. But we won’t let it.”
“Did you See anything while the fae spoke?” I ask Darla.
She thinks for a moment, her hand on her chin. Her eyes have a faraway look when she finally speaks. “My Sight was not clearcut during the interview. But I have this certainty that hopewill follow in the new year when old paths converge again. It seems important to Ada’s future.”
Niven’s curious eyes flash to mine. “A lot of old paths have converged since we arrived.”
Both Niven and I return to Ada’s house before she’s due home from the clinic. This conversation will be difficult, but we cannot keep this new information from her. She needs to know what the fae is doing to her and what is at stake if we cannot help her in time.
I prepare our dinner, conscious of thehealthy fooddirective, a hearty chicken and wild rice soup with plenty of vegetables. Fresh bread and butter as well. This seems very nourishing. But what would that fae know of nutrition for a witch? No matter, we must try everything possible.
I meet Ada in the foyer when she arrives. Her eyebrows shoot up when she sees me. Admittedly, I must look silly wearing her apron. But I did not use a big enough pot for the soup, so it kept splattering uncomfortably hot on my abdomen.
“Who knew pink was your color? Are you making dinner?” she asks, an unexpectedly light tone in her voice.
“Of course,” I say with a small smile tugging across my tusks. “You deserve a hot meal after a long day.”
“Wow, you’re still trying to spoil me. I’m fully able to cook for myself,” she remarks without any teeth.
“No need while I am here,” I insist. What I do not mention is that I would stay forever and do this every day if she would allow it.
Niven descends the staircase. He must have heard us. His face is drawn. It is obvious he is not looking forward to thisconversation any more than I am. But we need to figure out a plan.
“There’s a lot to talk about over dinner,” he admits to Ada.
“I see. So youarebuttering me up.” She looks concerned.
“No, dinner would have been made for you regardless. But we have a lot to tell you,” I break it to her gently.
She follows mutely as we head to the kitchen. I already set the table for us, a pitcher of lemonade and the sliced bread waiting for them. I ladle piping hot soup into bowls. Niven and Ada take their seats, murmuring their thanks as I set the bowls in front of them.
“You have me on pins and needles. What is going on?” she presses.
Niven and I share a look before he turns his attention back to Ada. “We found evidence of the fugitives today. One of our trackers, a gargoyle, stumbled into a magickal trap a mile south of the ward along the coast. It tore up his wing pretty badly. He’ll recover and gain an impressive scar from it, but the magick in the trap was tricky. Way too advanced for a couple of warlocks. It was likely fae. It took some time to release him.”
Ada gasps. “That must have been awful,” she commiserates.
“But that’s not even the important update. Today I began questioning the fae about what he did to you. The process is a challenge. It takes a lot of concentration, and my ability to compel honest responses from it has a short time limit. It’s nothing like using my abilities on Whispered Folk. Anyway, this is my long-winded way of saying we’ve only begun to scratch the surface. But what it said today was alarming.”
Ada looks increasingly concerned. “What did it say?”
Niven’s brows knit and he rubs his hand across his mouth. “The fae isn’t stealing or blocking your magick. It’s stealing your life. Something the fae calledethereal spark. I talked to some of our experts today, and we would call it life force, thoughthey seem to mean the same thing. I remember some of this from studying older magick at the academy. It isn’t common terminology among witches today. We think about it in simpler terms of aging and mortality. If I remember correctly, life force moves between realms. This fae has somehow claimed a piece of yours on Samhain and is slowly siphoning more. And now your lives are tied. If we kill the fae, it says it will kill you too. It was under compulsion to speak truth, and I’m sure it was.”
Ada stares at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Am I dying?”
“We will not let you die from this.” The words burst from deep within me. Never have I spoken with more conviction.
“The fae told us how to slow down the siphoning. Eating and sleeping well. But also keeping your spirits high and experiencing true love will help. It was an oddly helpful recipe to live a good life spewed from such a hateful creature. But it seemed sure of this, even if it wouldn’t or couldn’t tell us much more a magickal remedy for you,” Niven explains.
“We are still looking for a way to separate you from the fae permanently. We will never stop. Do not despair.” I cannot let her believe anything else.
“So why is my magick gone?” Ada rasps.
