serious. “So the queen must have an elflock for your mom attached to that belt she wears.”
Donna was filled with an exhilarating mixture of anxiety and excitement. This gave her something to focus on other than her anger; anger at the elves, sure, but also at the Order for keeping yet more secrets from her. But if there was something she could do —no matter how scary it might be—if she could take action of some kind, to help Mom, then she wouldn’t feel so useless.
“Can we get it back, do you think? The elflock, I mean.”
Xan was shaking his head. “I don’t know. Aliette wears that disgusting thing all the time.”
Donna shivered. She knew what Xan meant: she’d caught sight of the Wood Queen’s belt back when they had been negotiating for Maker and Navin’s release. It reminded her of history lessons where she’d seen pictures of vodoun practitioners in Africa—and in the deep South—with voodoo dolls that had real human hair. Except that the Wood Queen’s belt was strung tightly around hernarrow waist and had locks of hair hanging from it like a decorative fringe made of human remains. Something about it also reminded Donna of scalping, gross as that was to think about—though Aliette at least only collected hanks of hair, braided thickly and tied with pieces of woodland vines.
Rachel stirred slightly, turning her head away so that the white streak in the front was hidden.
Donna fought the urge to touch her mother’s face, wondering if Mom was fighting the curse even now. There was nothing she could do for her at the moment, of course, but that didn’t mean she had to sit on her hands and just hope for a miracle.
There may not be such things as miracles, but magic, of a sort, certainly existed. And although each of the four alchemical Orders had a different approach to magic, there was one basic rule: real magic was transformation. It was the energy you put into a project—intention, or the will of the individual alchemist—combined with preparation and ritual. The results were dependent on how strong the alchemist’s determination was. If there was something that Donna wasn’t short of, it was determination. Or stubbornness, as Navin would probably prefer to call it.
Just thinking of Nav made her smile. Even though he’d withdrawn from her since his rescue from the Ironwood, Donna still couldn’t think of him without her heart lifting. And anyway, it wasn’t exactly easy for him to stay in touch with her—not when Aunt Paige had her shut away in the house, grounded until the hearing.
She pulled her attention back to the room. She needed to find out as much as she could from Xan while she had the chance. “So, the elflock taken from Mom caused her condition?”
Xan nodded slowly. “I can’t be certain, of course, but the original magic must have caused her to slip into a state of …” He trailed off.
“It’s okay,” Donna said, her voice flat. “You can say it. Madness. She’s been going crazy for the better part of ten years.”
Xan grimaced. “Sorry. Yeah, the elflocks take away a piece of the victim’s soul. It’s like a slice cut out and attached to the hair—because it’s something personal and organic. Your mother would have been vulnerable after that.”
“But this time, for Mom, it’s different. It’s much worse, I mean—that’s why they brought her to the hospital.”
“That’s the curse,” Xan said. His eyes wandered to the still figure beneath the stark blankets. “Aliette must have done something to your mother’s lock of hair, something that fully activated an elf curse.”
“She’s sending a message.” Donna suddenly knew it was true as her mind formed a picture of the strange fey girl, Ivy. She should really tell Xan about Ivy, but right now all she wanted to think about was Mom and how they could help.
“What would Aliette want from you now, though?” Xan asked. “The elixir is gone; she can’t use you to get that
Donna was filled with an exhilarating mixture of anxiety and excitement. This gave her something to focus on other than her anger; anger at the elves, sure, but also at the Order for keeping yet more secrets from her. But if there was something she could do —no matter how scary it might be—if she could take action of some kind, to help Mom, then she wouldn’t feel so useless.
“Can we get it back, do you think? The elflock, I mean.”
Xan was shaking his head. “I don’t know. Aliette wears that disgusting thing all the time.”
Donna shivered. She knew what Xan meant: she’d caught sight of the Wood Queen’s belt back when they had been negotiating for Maker and Navin’s release. It reminded her of history lessons where she’d seen pictures of vodoun practitioners in Africa—and in the deep South—with voodoo dolls that had real human hair. Except that the Wood Queen’s belt was strung tightly around hernarrow waist and had locks of hair hanging from it like a decorative fringe made of human remains. Something about it also reminded Donna of scalping, gross as that was to think about—though Aliette at least only collected hanks of hair, braided thickly and tied with pieces of woodland vines.
Rachel stirred slightly, turning her head away so that the white streak in the front was hidden.
Donna fought the urge to touch her mother’s face, wondering if Mom was fighting the curse even now. There was nothing she could do for her at the moment, of course, but that didn’t mean she had to sit on her hands and just hope for a miracle.
There may not be such things as miracles, but magic, of a sort, certainly existed. And although each of the four alchemical Orders had a different approach to magic, there was one basic rule: real magic was transformation. It was the energy you put into a project—intention, or the will of the individual alchemist—combined with preparation and ritual. The results were dependent on how strong the alchemist’s determination was. If there was something that Donna wasn’t short of, it was determination. Or stubbornness, as Navin would probably prefer to call it.
Just thinking of Nav made her smile. Even though he’d withdrawn from her since his rescue from the Ironwood, Donna still couldn’t think of him without her heart lifting. And anyway, it wasn’t exactly easy for him to stay in touch with her—not when Aunt Paige had her shut away in the house, grounded until the hearing.
She pulled her attention back to the room. She needed to find out as much as she could from Xan while she had the chance. “So, the elflock taken from Mom caused her condition?”
Xan nodded slowly. “I can’t be certain, of course, but the original magic must have caused her to slip into a state of …” He trailed off.
“It’s okay,” Donna said, her voice flat. “You can say it. Madness. She’s been going crazy for the better part of ten years.”
Xan grimaced. “Sorry. Yeah, the elflocks take away a piece of the victim’s soul. It’s like a slice cut out and attached to the hair—because it’s something personal and organic. Your mother would have been vulnerable after that.”
“But this time, for Mom, it’s different. It’s much worse, I mean—that’s why they brought her to the hospital.”
“That’s the curse,” Xan said. His eyes wandered to the still figure beneath the stark blankets. “Aliette must have done something to your mother’s lock of hair, something that fully activated an elf curse.”
“She’s sending a message.” Donna suddenly knew it was true as her mind formed a picture of the strange fey girl, Ivy. She should really tell Xan about Ivy, but right now all she wanted to think about was Mom and how they could help.
“What would Aliette want from you now, though?” Xan asked. “The elixir is gone; she can’t use you to get that
Similar Books
