A Touch of Brimstone by McKenzie Hunter
11
Find the spells, leave this world. That sentence played as a continuous loop in my head as I returned to the table and removed the books from my bag. Without Dominic to translate, I simply made notes for him and continued scrolling through the books to find the spells. My markings’ response to the spells hadn’t diminished, but it was still alarming.
“Helena’s bruised ego often requires a lot of management,” Nailah volunteered, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table near the door. Considering the heaviness of her voice, she didn’t agree with the indulgence.
“What about her temper, how is that managed?”
Nailah huffed a sigh. “That, too, requires a great deal of patience and delicacy. Her propensity for violent overreactions has caused a great number of problems. Helena’s last one nearly led to a war. Had the witches found a way to get to her here in the Underworld, it would have been a battle that I’m not sure Dominic would have been able to win. Despite Dominic’s and Helena’s considerable power, they’re no match for a coven of Strata Three witches. She’s made enemies of so many covens. They tend to only protect their own, but they would have formed an alliance to punish Helena. She causes unlikely people to unite.”
Her fingers idly made designs along the table as she spoke. It felt like she was venting and I remained quiet, hoping to glean more information. “That’s Helena. Her response to anyone who displeases her is to go for the jugular, literally.”
“Strata Three?”
“Those are the strongest. Able to create spells, perform strong magic: manipulate time, telekinesis, advanced spell casting, magic mimicry by stealing another practitioner’s magic, which is illegal. Necromancy—controlling the dead—and some minor shifting abilities.
“Strata Three witches aren’t limited to simple magic, which makes them dangerous and unpredictable. Strata Two witches’ magic is more limited: Elementals usually fall into this category, although they can do wards, basic spell casting, and illusions. Their talents lie in controlling elements. The same with techno-witches. Although their skills are highly sought after, they are still considered a Two. Except for Celeste, Mors have the limited magical ability of taking a life with a single invocation and touch, but they’re classified as Strata Three. They consider themselves beyond reproach or rule,” she added.
That may be why they were given a death sentence rather than imprisonment.
“Witches are watched carefully because they are so powerful and there’s always the risk of abuse,” Nailah went on. “Madeline is a Strata Three, as are most of her family. Their line is the strongest and most talented. Helena learned that firsthand, but despite the consequences, she still hasn’t learned restraint.”
I held my breath, hoping she’d continue. It yielded great information for me.
But maybe it wasn’t about getting this information off her chest. Perhaps it was driven by compassion. There was undeniable warmth and empathy in her eyes. I found comfort in her since that was the only place it could be had.
Leaning forward in anticipation, I realized how desperate I was for the peace that knowledge brought. She was providing me with information that would unravel some of the complexity of a world I didn’t belong in. Tools for survival that I desperately needed. And what seemed to be basic humanity, in a place where it was missing. For all I knew, Nailah could be as cold and vengeful as the others. She could be offering me a deception, but I was willing to accept it because I was thirsty for it.
Instead of continuing, she leaned forward, picked up one of the books, and started perusing it.
Dammit. No. I need more.
“Consequences?” I urged.
She frowned. I couldn’t determine if it was the return of our discussion about Helena or the consequences she suffered.
“Most supernaturals can be rather pedantic when it comes to their status as elite magical practitioners. Alpha shifters have an obnoxious sense of entitlement. Elder vampires feel worthy of an excessive amount of veneration—I guess for just existing for a long time.” She shrugged. “And Strata Three witches feel deserving of reverence. From other witches, they receive it. But since shifters are immune to their magic, the witches get very little reverence from them unless they need the witches for a task. Strata Ones and Twos can meet their basic needs for wards, protection spells, and illusions. Vampires are strong and fast. Before the witches could perform any acts of magic against them, the vampires could kill them. They all believe themselves to be greater than they actually are.” She punctuated her speech with a heavy sigh.
“Navigating the rules and tacit agreements requires delicacy, diplomacy, and, when necessary, assertive coercion.” Her voice had lost some of its frustration. She delivered the information in such a dispassionate manner it was as though she was telling a story she’d repeated so many times that she’d lost the desire to keep the listener interested.
Assertive coercion seemed like a pleasant way of saying intimidation or brutalizing into compliance. I kept that theory to myself.
Nailah inhaled a breath as if it offered some comfort. There was nothing comforting about the stifling air. But she exuded a tranquility that made things seem less overwhelming. Was that part of her magic? Lulling me into somnolence? Her warm, earthy eyes were in contrast to Dominic’s, which were sharp with intensity and boundless in depth.
“No one is without their weakness. Something Helena forgets often.” She shrugged and frowned. “When your father is Lord of the Underworld, it is easy to lose perspective. Helena was beyond loss of perspective. She believed she could do whatever she desired with impunity. History had given her that false notion.” The look that passed over Nailah’s face reminded me of the disapproval Dominic showed when discussing Helena’s indulgences.
It shouldn’t have been shocking to me, but it was. The signs were there: I was sitting in the spellbook room in the Underworld. On my first arrival in the Underworld, Dominic was greeted by guards and he displayed what I considered hauteur born from sheer arrogance, displaying the pride of a prince.
My life had irreparably changed. Not by a stretch could it be considered boring any longer. Not only had I punched both the Prince and Princess of the Underworld, I’d made a deal with the Prince.
“There was a power struggle over who’d be responsible for policing the supernatural world. The witches were the most adamant about dealing with rule breakers.” Nailah’s hand swept across the room in a dismissive wave. “Perhaps they were right. But, because of their biases, they are often more lenient than they should be. Powerful people require powerful punishment.”
“They get it here.”
“I’ve seen worse confinements where you live. The best way to punish the powerful is to render them powerless for the rest of their lives. That is their personal hell.”
I questioned if she was intentionally veering the topic from Helena.
“What does this have to do with Helena?” This was information I desperately needed. Maybe it could help me deal with her. Best her in some way.
“Ah, yes. Initially, both Helena and Dominic guarded the Perils. As I said before, Helena handled the mildest of slights with extreme penalties, even where she had no jurisdiction. She involved herself in affairs that didn’t require her intervention or judgment. Crimes against other supernaturals were handled by the denizens involved. Helena and Dominic handled supernaturals who violated crimes against humanity. That’s what this is about. They shared a common goal, to stop the worst in the supernatural world and to ensure they remain hidden from humans.”
“Their father is Lord of the Underworld and they are the Prince and Princess—aren’t they the worst of your kind?”
Nailah’s lips pulled into a tightly puckered moue of disapproval. How was I wrong for coming to that conclusion? I was sure the requisite for ruling the Underworld wasn’t being a sweet cuddle bear. Helena and Dominic were born to this, but neither one seemed like victims of circumstance. I couldn’t forget how the members of the Conventicle looked at Dominic. Disdain, fear, and abhorrence. No esteem or veneration. Whatever existed between them was a reluctant alliance.
“Cruelty must be handled with cruelty. Dominic is capable of using fear as a tool of compliance.” Nailah gave me a bitter smile. “It is necessary. Diplomacy and patience are required as well. Dominic has mastered them, Helena hasn’t. It’s doubtful she can. Since Helena’s whims had been indulged for so long, it was difficult to rein her in. She killed Madeline’s grandmother for not giving her the Trapsen—an amulet that allowed passage into the Underworld. Dominic had acquired and destroyed all but that one. If he’d handled that situation, I have no doubt he would have managed it through bargaining, not brutality. Of the three, Dominic is more diplomatic.”
She was ascribing diplomacy in the same manner a person tries to determine who’s less dangerous: a black mamba, a lion, or a grizzly bear.
“Helena doesn’t… Well.” She sighed and gave me a weak smile. “She doesn’t believe in negotiation and has always responded to denials and rejections poorly. As a connoisseur of strife, violence, and havoc, she finds new and inventive ways to test her brother’s patience, which has been stretched to the point of breaking. I suspect it won’t hold for long.”
A wave of fear washed over me. Her retaliation could have been worse if Dominic hadn’t intervened. What would she have done to me?
Nailah relaxed as she exhaled deeply. “The coven’s retaliation was swift and severe.” A deep frown hardened her features. “I believe it was too swift, as if they had been waiting for a moment worthy of such retaliation. They performed a curse that restricted her magic and they refused to show Dominic or even their father how to reverse it.
“With the help of other witches, it took ten years for Dominic to discover a way to return her magic. But the curse was never completely removed. They found a workaround. And that help came with a compromise. Punishment of the supernaturals was no longer solely the domain of the Underworld. The Perils would handle only the worst of their kind. Pursuing violators has to be approved by the Conventicle. Although Dominic and Helena were the sole proprietors of regulating and determining sentencing, it is now up to the Conventicle. The problem is, that is still a good faith courtesy that Dominic extends.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he discovered another way to undo the curse that restricts his sister’s magic. And a counterspell to keep witches’ magic from ever affecting him. He can’t be cursed, nor can they use any of their magic against him.”
“Do they know that?”
She shook her head and smiled, bringing a finger to her lips. I mimed using a key to lock away the secret. It was hard to blindly trust anyone in this world, although something about Nailah seemed earnest and kind. But the bar was set pretty low. She hadn’t abducted me, tried to kill me, or compelled me into harming myself. Things had devolved so badly for me that basic common decency earned my trust.
“You’re able to see things that happened and the future, correct?” I asked reluctantly after several moments of internal debate.
She chuckled. “No. As with all magic, it has limits. I saw you, the markings. But I had no idea who you were. We had to find you. Some futures are shown to me, but like all things, it is susceptible to the butterfly effect.”
“Am I going to survive this?” I rushed out before I lost the courage to ask.
She responded with a weak smile.
“Please tell me.”
“There’s merit and comfort in having the future be a mystery.”
“There has to be some merit and comfort in knowing as well.”
She nodded and closed her eyes, then opened them to reveal her peculiar illuminated violet eyes, which bored into me with such severity it felt like she was pulling the details of my life from me and taking part of me with it. Her body shuddered slightly and then she slumped against the chair. Minutes burned away without her speaking.
“Will you tell me how you got involved?” she asked.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to retell the story, but I was sure Dominic had already discussed it with her. This was a distraction tactic. I gave her the unabridged version since Reginald’s involvement was already known.
Her lips pressed into a tight straight line. “I couldn’t see any of that,” she admitted, shifting her gaze to my marked finger. “You were unwittingly pulled in—a victim of circumstances.”
“And my curiosity,” I provided with a wry smile. How different things would have been if I had left the ring or the book. Or both.
The sympathy on her face made me question if I could rely on anything she told me regarding her prophecy. “It’s the burden of my magic. We can’t lie about our visions. Even if I wanted to, it’s not possible.”
I really needed to work on keeping my thoughts from showing on my face.
Her adherence to truth was the reason she was delaying answering me.
Damn. I’m going to die.