The Valley of Lies (Lightkeepers #1)

Chapter SIX: Zan

Zan hated to leave Ayer in the clutches of those godsforsaken witches, but what choice did he have? None yet, although that might change if the rumors about the ley lines were true. Rumors of fading curses and returning magic.

Muttering an oath, he Changed into the form he often took while traipsing the halls of the Coven. It was an easy Change, one he could do almost without thinking and twice as fast. With their gauzy white hair and gray, brittle skin, wraiths had once been summoned by the Triumvirate, whether for information from the spirit world or for some other nefarious end. But instead of releasing them back into the afterlife when their services were no longer needed, the ruling witches of Blackwater had a tendency to cast the wraiths aside.

Aimless and forlorn, the spirits had eventually become so bored and despondent they'd begun to act like servants, opening doors and otherwise attending to the living inhabitants of the Coven. Naturally, the witches were thrilled by this, and over time grew even less inclined to release the lost spirits.

Zan could get around the Coven easily as a wraith. No one spoke to him, as wraiths rarely spoke. They also had unsettling, hollow eye sockets that glowed an eerie translucent lavender, so hardly anyone made eye contact with him.

It was perfect, really. A kind of poetic justice, that he could sneak around the Coven, undermining the witches' tenuous empire, all because they were too arrogant and careless to properly run a kingdom. If what was left of the Coven and Blackwater could even be called a kingdom. There hadn't been a king or true queen in Blackwater in over three hundred years, not since it was called Stillwater, back before the Triumvirate cursed the Darkbane elves, banishing most of their race to a remote pocket of the world where none could find them and from which they couldn't escape. At least, they hadn't yet.

"Hurry!" someone shouted in the human tongue from an open doorway up ahead. The sultry timbre of the voice was all too familiar.

Zan slowed in anticipation of passing the room, keeping his gait loose and ambling.

"Write this down quickly, imp. I need a fistful of hogwi intestines. And check them first, make sure it's a good moist fistful, not a mess of withered detritus like last time. You hear me? And a blackwing's eye... No, not an ear, you imbecile. I said eye! A blackwing's eye. They don't even have ears." A grumbled hesitation followed this breathless outburst. "It's like talking to a series of bats, I swear. And another thing, the eye can't be over three days old or the spell will collapse. You have that? Let me see. Good enough. Now, go!"

Domira was certainly in a foul mood today.

Zan continued soundlessly along the corridor, praying the angry witch would overlook him. The goat hoof powder was burning a hole in his pocket. He needed to get home and cook the Changing elixir for tonight's encounter with the satyrs near the gate. Being a changeling had its benefits, but if he'd never touched a person or creature, then ingesting some of their essence was necessary to assume their likeness. It sounded macabre, and it was, but there wasn't much Zan wouldn't do to help his sister.

"Halt, wraith."

Zan was three paces past the door, but there was no mistaking that the oldest and vilest of the Triumvirate was calling to him. And if he didn't react, she would wonder why.

He turned and shuffled to the doorway, keeping his gaze cool and listless. Domira stood in the middle of what had once been a library--as evidenced by the disorganized bookshelves lining the walls--but now looked more like a messy boudoir. Pillows, empty phials, several mismatched lace-up boots, and other various garments were strewn haphazardly around the room. The witch herself was wearing a clingy evening gown with dark green trim, velvet fabric catching the candlelight the way she must have intended. Her auburn hair was coiled in loose ringlets arranged on top of her head in an elaborate presentation of pins and threaded ribbons. The amethyst gaze she set on him was penetrating. But despite these illusions of beauty and youth, Zan found her quite hideous.