The Fairytale Curse (Magic's Return Book 1) Read online

  Simon staggered. The birds turned their attention to him, and he had trouble fending them off and Puck too. Puck charged him, and caught him low. Simon hurtled backwards and slammed into the display case.

  Glass sprayed the room, and pots that were more than two thousand years old shattered into shards. Puck leapt forward and seized the glowing pot, which was untouched by the destruction. As his hands touched it I felt the strange weakness subside, and stood up straighter.

  “I have it, mistress!” he crowed.

  “Not for long, buddy.”

  Like a pro baseballer, Zac batted a bird straight at Puck’s face with his trusty clipboard. Puck yelped and instinctively brought his hands up, dropping the pot. Zac dived forward and caught it before it hit the floor, earning himself some nasty gashes from the broken glass scattered everywhere.

  He hurled the pot to me.

  “Run!”

  I darted forward and caught the glowing pot. A buzz like an electrical charge surged through my hands.

  Ravens dive-bombed me as I ran. Miss Moore was still blocking the exit, framed in blue light that sizzled ominously. She raised her hands—

  And CJ cannoned into her with a wild yell. They fell to the floor in a spray of blue sparks.

  “Run, Vi!”

  So I did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Outside the exhibition there was a bottleneck as a throng of people all tried to push up the stairs at once.

  A security guard saw me and the pot I carried. “Hey! Where are you going with that?”

  He tried to push through the crowd toward me but the tide was against him. He made little headway against the rush of panicked people. I turned down another corridor. There must be another way out apart from the main stairs.

  A raven darted out of the gift shop at me with a raucous cry. I held up the pot to protect my face and felt the impact of the bird’s body, then a sizzle.

  What the hell? I lowered the pot. Where was the bird?

  The pot’s blood-red glow brightened. I blinked. Had the pot eaten the raven? Nasty. Or maybe, since the raven was magical, the pot had gobbled up its magical essence. That was a slightly less horrifying way of looking at it. Handy, though, if I met any more ravens in the semi-darkness. Out here, at least the emergency lights were on.

  A hand caught me from behind and I shrieked.

  “Vi!”

  It was Zac.

  “Oh, thank God! You scared me.” I looked past him hopefully. “Where’s CJ? And Sona?”

  “Don’t know. I ran after you. Who the hell was that guy? And what happened to Miss Moore?”

  Damn Puck, always turning up where mischief was involved.

  “He’s a Sidhe—more like, um … a fairy than a person. He’s the one that cursed us with frogs and diamonds.”

  He took that better than I’d expected. I guess all the fairytale curses lately had kind of primed people to expect the unexpected where magic was concerned.

  “And that wasn’t Miss Moore. If there even is a real Miss Moore.” Looking back, maybe I should have realised. Our Ancient History teacher’s convenient broken leg. All those damn crows and ravens I kept seeing, and her so beautiful and warlike. I knew enough Celtic mythology to guess her identity now I’d seen her in action. “That was the Morrigan, the Celtic goddess of war.”

  Okay, that time his eyes boggled a bit, but I couldn’t really blame him.

  We found a set of fire stairs and raced up them to ground level. There was a big warning sign in bossy red letters on the door: This door is alarmed.

  Yeah, you and me both, door.

  Zac shoved it open and we burst out into the sunshine as the alarm began to shrill.

  He took my hand and hurried me across the grass to the front of the building. Even in the middle of all this I felt a thrill of excitement at the touch of his hand.

  “The Celtic goddess of war?” he asked. “Seriously?”

  “Scout’s honour.”

  His eyes gleamed with laughter, though the situation really wasn’t funny. Far out. My life had plunged to new depths of insanity.

  People were spilling down the front steps of the art gallery in a torrent of panic. I saw some of the primary schoolers in the crowd, and a couple of our classmates. But not Sona or CJ. I scanned the crowd for CJ’s dark head, a knot of fear in my stomach. She’d thrown herself at the Morrigan so I could escape with the pot, and I had a feeling the Morrigan wasn’t going to be too happy about that.

  “I don’t get it.” Zac’s face was a picture of confusion. “Where did that guy come from? He just appeared out of nowhere.”

  “The Sidhe can do that. They can disguise themselves as anyone. I could be one and you wouldn’t even know. Or you could be.” This was my chance. Surely we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation if he was one of them? He was bigger and stronger than me; he could have taken the pot if he wanted it. “That’s why I couldn’t contact you over the holidays. When the curses switched at the formal, everyone around us was a suspect. We didn’t know who we could trust.”

  “Oh.” He looked down at his feet.

  Not quite the reaction I’d been hoping for.

  “I guess it was Miss Moore—the Morrigan—all along, but we didn’t know that at the time.

  “So you … wanted to ring me?”

  “More than anything.”

  He looked up then, and his smile melted my heart. “And here I was thinking you were blowing me off.”

  “It’s okay. I probably would have thought the same.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.” His voice was husky. “Scout’s honour.”

  My hormones stood to attention, but now was not the time, with a magical pot glowing fiery red in my arms.

  “We need to get this thing somewhere safe.”

  He glared at it as I led him away from the Art Gallery. “What the hell do they want with some Spartan pot?”

  “If the Morrigan wants it, it’s not some Spartan pot.”

  There was really only one thing it could be. The exhibition had come from the Louvre, after all, where our pot was still supposed to be, safely locked away. Somehow, someone had pulled a switch.

  “It’s the Dagda’s cauldron.”

  We hurried along Art Gallery Road, away from the milling crowds. I kept looking over my shoulder, but there were no signs of pursuit yet. No sign of CJ either. Where could we go? The Rocks was too far, and I wasn’t convinced HQ could provide much protection against one of the most dangerous of all the Sidhe anyway.

  “Who’s the Dagda?” Zac asked.

  “The Morrigan’s husband. The chief god of the Celts.”

  And his damn cauldron was heavy, but I didn’t dare hand it to Zac to carry. The urge to keep it safe was almost primal. Its magic called to the aether in me, but it didn’t make it any lighter. Damn it, if I had to be saddled with the job of saving one of the Sidhe’s four treasures, why couldn’t it have been a lighter one? The Spear, maybe?

  The Spear! Oh, my God, I was an idiot.

  “I know where we can find safety!” I started to jog down Art Gallery Road as best I could with the heavy cauldron in my arms. “St Mary’s Cathedral.”

  We’d passed it in the bus, just before arriving at the gallery this morning. It was right on the corner where Art Gallery Road began, a beautiful old collection of spires and towers that looked like it had come straight out of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

  “Let me carry that,” Zac offered, but I shook my head and ploughed on.

  I was panting and drenched in sweat by the time we got to the Cathedral. Its honeyed sandstone walls glowed in the sunlight. The entry was at the opposite end of the building, but I paused to get my breath as soon as we passed through the iron fence.

  “What’s that?” Zac was looking back the way we came.

  I looked back too and saw a dark cloud gathering above the distant Art Gallery.

  “Bad news,” I said. Then I squinted at a running figure. “Hey,
is that Sona?”

  He shielded his eyes with his hand. “Yeah, I think it is. Sona!” He waved at her, and she waved back. “Over here.”

  Too late I remembered it might be Puck again, wearing another face. But she seemed genuine enough as she dashed across the road to join us. At least, she didn’t try to grab the cauldron or attack us. But maybe she was just too out of breath.

  “Hang … on.” She bent over, hands on her knees, and panted for a moment.

  I watched the cloud swirl above the Art Gallery, feeling like a sitting duck.

  “Come on. We’d better get inside.”

  “Where are we going?” Sona asked, looking back fearfully. “What’s going on?”

  I gave Sona the short version as we hurried around to the entrance, which was at the top of a flight of stairs overlooking a large plaza. I took the stairs as fast as I could and gained the safety of the church at last.

  The cauldron buzzed angrily against my hands and its crimson glow faded almost to nothing as I carried it through a door covered in a reassuring amount of iron scrollwork. The warders had said the Sidhe couldn’t enter a church. Perhaps even their magical objects felt the hostility of Christianity.

  We slid into a pew at the back and I laid down my burden with relief, stretching my aching arms.

  “What now?” Zac asked. Sona still looked gobsmacked by my quick summary of events, and now I knew she was the real deal since she’d had no trouble entering the church.

  “Don’t know.” I hadn’t thought past reaching sanctuary. What could we do now but sit and wait to be rescued? Of all the times to be without my phone—I didn’t know the phone number of a single person connected with HQ except for Mum and Dad, and they were in the air at the moment, out of contact. Everyone had assumed that Simon and Kyle would be with us if an emergency arose. Now I couldn’t even tell anyone at HQ what was going on, or where we were.

  The stained glass windows along the sides of the big cathedral dimmed as suddenly as if night had fallen in sixty seconds. Lights blazed inside the church, but the windows were black. Sona huddled closer to Zac, lost for words for a change.

  I left them sitting there and wandered around the echoing interior, cauldron in my arms. Where was the Spear of Lugh? I couldn’t see anything that looked like a spear, though I suppose it might have been disguised as a giant candelabra. There were a couple of those. There were a few spears in the paintings that hung on the walls, mainly held by Roman centurions, but no physical spears in sight.

  I guessed it was good that I couldn’t find it. If I couldn’t, then hopefully the Sidhe couldn’t either, if they did somehow get inside. The cauldron, subdued as it was by its surroundings, still glowed faintly to my sight. The spear was obviously better hidden.

  There was a crash as something hit a window and I jumped.

  “What was that?” cried Sona, eyes wide with fright.

  As I hurried back to them it came again, and again, and soon it sounded as if it was hailing outside, as hundreds of bird bodies hurled themselves at the windows.

  “It’s the ravens. Don’t worry, they can’t get in.” I hope. Silently I urged the windows not to shatter under the onslaught. There was lead running through the stained glass—pity it wasn’t iron, but at least it should strengthen the windowpanes.

  “Isn’t there somewhere else we could go?” Sona asked. “Somewhere smaller?”

  It was a big cathedral. The roof soared above us, arched and vaulted. The cavernous space was daunting, it was true. I felt exposed just sitting here in the pews.

  Back near the entry stood a wrought iron gate, guarding a set of stairs carved from sandstone that led down beneath the floor of the church.

  “What about this?”

  The sign said it was the crypt, and tickets were available from the gift shop. Fortunately the gate wasn’t locked. It creaked ominously when I pushed it open.

  Sona pulled a face. “Do you think they have dead bodies down there?”

  “I’d rather dead humans than live Sidhe.”

  We spiralled down the stairs and found a much larger space than I’d expected. It wasn’t as big as the cathedral above, but you could have held a decent-sized church service down here. Carved pillars held up the vaulted arches of the ceiling, and a beautiful mosaic decorated the floor. Inlaid tiles formed the pattern of a giant Celtic cross bigger than a basketball court. The intricate Celtic knotwork would have been decoration enough, but there were also what looked like creation scenes from the bible in large circles at the points of the cross. The biggest circle, where the arms of the cross met, depicted a gorgeous glowing sun and moon. It was all very serene and beautiful. Not a body in sight. If they were here they were safely tucked away under the tiled floor. Down here the birds’ assault on the windows was only a muffled noise. Nothing to be afraid of.

  “Better?” I asked.

  Sona nodded. After a moment the birds fell silent. That made me uneasy, wondering what the next development would be.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  “Violet,” a voice boomed.

  We all jumped.

  “Is that Miss Moore?” Sona whispered.

  Deep and resonant, the voice sounded like it belonged to someone as big as the cathedral itself. Must be magic.

  “The Morrigan,” I said.

  “Violet, you clever girl,” the Morrigan said. The voice reverberated off the walls, echoing through the whole cathedral. “What a good idea of yours to hide in there!”

  She sounded so approving. Smug cow.

  “You know I can’t come in there, don’t you? Of course you do! So I’m afraid you’re going to have to come out.”

  As if. Wild horses couldn’t drag me out there. I clutched the cauldron a little closer. Much as I hated relying on other people, I was in way over my head. Time to sit tight until the cavalry arrived.

  “Why don’t you come to the door and have a little peek? You’ll be perfectly safe, but you need to know what the consequences of disobedience will be. Not for you, you understand. For your sister.”

  Oh, no.

  My head whipped round, as if I could see up the stairs and through the walls.

  “Don’t listen to her, Vi,” Sona said.

  I looked at Zac, and saw the horror I felt mirrored in his face. She had CJ. Of course she did. Hadn’t CJ thrown herself at the Morrigan, straight into her blue burning arms, so that I could escape?

  I made a little noise of distress. Zac came over and put his arms around me, the cauldron glowing softly between us.

  “I have to go up there,” I said. “I have to see.”

  He nodded. “She might be lying.”

  But I could tell he didn’t believe she was.

  I took the stairs two at a time, Zac and Sona hard on my heels. At the cathedral’s entrance, a nightmare scene met our eyes.

  Every square centimetre of the huge plaza below was covered in ravens. The ground was black with them, heaving like the fur of some huge animal breathing. Every lamp post, every tree branch, every last seat and bike rack—everything we could see—had disappeared under a sea of black birds.

  And all their beady eyes were staring right at us.

  We stood just inside the doorway, gazing out in horror. Only the steps of the Cathedral themselves were clear. On the bottom one stood the Morrigan, CJ by her side. CJ didn’t move or speak, but her eyes were wide with fear, and I could see the tracks of tears on her cheeks.

  “There you are,” said the Morrigan.

  Blue fire sparked around her head. The sky above roiled with heavy thunderclouds, though the day had been sunny a few moments ago.

  “I see you have the cauldron,” she said. “Give it to me and I will let your sister live.”

  “That might not even be CJ,” Zac whispered urgently.

  True. And wouldn’t I feel like a fool then, if I handed over one of the four great treasures to “save” Puck’s miserable hide?

  “I can’t take that chance,” I
said.

  Stuff noble gestures and saving mankind. If it was a choice between mankind and my sister, guess who lost out? The warders couldn’t expect me to do any more. I’d done my best to save the cauldron. It was hardly my fault if they were so useless at protecting the damn thing that it ended up back in Sidhe hands. At least we still had the other three treasures.

  “Give me a minute,” I called to the Morrigan, then drew back out of sight.

  “Don’t take too long,” she said. “I’m not a patient person.”

  We huddled in the foyer of the church, looking at each other in despair.

  “What does it even do?” Zac asked. “What does she want it for?”

  I shrugged. “She wants it because it’s theirs, I guess, and we used it to force them out of our world a long time ago. Maybe they think they can use it to get back again.” At this point I hardly cared.

  “They seem to be back already,” Sona pointed out.

  “Only a couple of them, and they had outside help.” And if I ever found out who that traitor was, I’d kill them myself. I was so sick of this whole stupid mess. Where were the warders when you needed them? They should have been dealing with this, not me. “As for what it does, it’s a magic cauldron of never-emptiness. Whatever you want, it can dish out an endless supply.”

  “Anything? You mean like jewels and clothes and stuff?” Trust Sona to think of clothes.

  “Only food, as far as I know.”

  I blinked as an idea came to me. The tales I’d read had only mentioned food, but that didn’t prove anything. I put the cauldron down on the worn tiles of the foyer and turned all my longing on it. Threw my heart at it, as Puck might have said.

  Then I reached in and pulled out three very peculiar pieces of equipment. The cauldron—not surprisingly—defied the laws of physics, since they were much bigger than the cauldron itself. Sona’s eyes grew huge as I handed her one.