Mistfall(Book One of the Mistfall Series)

22. Magical Hangover





A voice pierced my muddled brain. “Throw her over there for now,” it ordered.

Another slower, less intelligent sounding voice answered. “Boss said not too. Said she’s dangerous.”

“She doesn’t look to dangerous right now does she?” the first voice responded.

I was dropped to the ground by the oaf. It was dark and I couldn’t see, though I did hear voices coming from everywhere. That was a good thing. It meant I was not in another oubliette. I wanted to lift my head and look around, but I was still too weak and passed out before I had the chance.

I was being lifted into a seated position the next time I woke. Someone was trying to get me to drink. I don’t remember if I did or didn’t drink what I was offered. What I did remember was a soothing man’s voice persuading me to sleep. “Sleep,” he said. “Sleep.” The second time he urged me to sleep I found myself agreeing with him that it was an excellent idea.

“Wake up miss,” the man’s gentle voice spoke.

My eyes fluttered open in response.

“That’s a good girl, now drink up.”

I found myself once again in a seated position. The man holding me up brought a cup to my parched lips. I drank greedily, sucking down the cool, refreshing liquid.


“Slow down now miss. You’ll be sick if you drink it too fast,” the man scolded.

“Mags,” I whispered since my voice still raw from screaming.

“My apologies. I called you Magdalene the last time we spoke. Do you remember?”

I turned my head to see who was caring for me. I was met with the countenance of the gypsy I had left behind when I escaped the oubliette days ago (or two weeks depending on if you were with me or not). He appeared to be in his sixties, though it was hard to tell.

Gypsies don’t follow the rules as far as human or Otherworlders are concerned. The man who was nursing me back to health could be sixty-seven or two hundred years old. There some who lived normal human life spans. Rarely did they live the lengthy lifetimes of Otherworlders. For the most part, they lived somewhere in-between.

The man had salt and pepper hair. His skin was dark tan and weathered from years of living and toiling in the outdoors. Twice now I’ve seen this man and yet I didn’t even know his name.

“My name is Elijah,” he responded to my thoughts.

I raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Psychic?”

Elijah laughed at my observation. “I’ve been called many things. But yes, I think psychic will do for now.”

I made an attempt to hold myself up, but my arms were as strong as that of a newborn at the moment. Elijah held me down easily, keeping me from doing my body any more harm.

“Not yet Mags,” he told me. “It takes awhile to recover from the wraith magic you’ve absorbed. Think of it as a magical hangover.”

I acquiesced. Holding my eyes open more than a few seconds would be my win for now.

I finished drinking the contents of the cup. Elijah told me it was water and a little bit of magic. It was Fae-tinged magic that was for sure. There was a sweet, flowery taste to it that made me feel all warm and comfy inside. Elijah then told me to sleep and once again I felt persuaded that he was right and slumbered peacefully.

This routine went on for a few days while I recovered. Elijah never left me for too long while I was conscious. He’d wake me long enough to drink the magical mystery water and make short conversation. Every day I felt a little bit stronger.

Eventually I was strong enough that Elijah’s psychic persuasion was waning in its power over me. I was alone in my cell the next time I woke.

“Elijah?” I called out.

I received a response, but not the one I wanted.

“Shut up girly,” said one of the prison guards whose voice I remembered from the day I was brought down here. “There’s no talking down here.”

“I didn’t know,” I replied honestly.

The gruff Elf was ugly as sin. I would almost call him deformed, but all his parts were in the right places. Growths sprouted all over his face and his hair only grew in cottony tufts. The Elf’s teeth were crooked as well. It was almost as if he had poured a handful of Chiclets in his mouth. Knowing the kind of bastard Abel is, I guessed the man was employed as a prison guard so he’d be kept out of public view.

“I woulda told ya the rules, but ya sure can sleep,” he laughed.

I stood up in my cell, finding I was a bit wobbly on my feet. I walked the few steps to the bars and held onto them to steady myself. “Well, I’m awake now. So who are you and what are the rules?”

“The guard came close enough I could smell his breath. All I can say is that working for Abel does not come with a dental plan. Rotting corpses smelled better than this guy’s breath. I took a few steps back and used one of the walls for support instead.

“My name’s Seamus. My brother is the other guard. His name is Barra,” Seamus informed me.

Making nice with the guards would only benefit me in the long run, so I gave Seamus my nicest smile. “It’s nice to meet you Seamus.”

He snorted at what he thought was a joke. “I doubt it seein’ as yer down here.” He pulled out a piece of dirty yellow paper from one of his pockets and unfolded it. Once he realized he was trying to read it upside down he flipped it to the right side and cleared his throat. “The rules,” he began, “are as follows: No talkin’, no singin’, no trouble makin’, and no magic.” He paused to look at my wrists. “I don’t think I have ter worry about the no magic rule wit ya though.”

Oh this guy’s just a regular comedian, I thought and rolled my eyes. I knew I had no magic. I had known it for days. On my wrists were the same cuffs John and Melissa had been bound with the last time I saw them. I was now a magical mute. This little roadblock was going to make my next escape harder. It’s just a good thing that I like a challenge.

“I have to report to tha Aelfadl Cap’n that yer awake. I ‘spect tha King will be sending fer ya soon,” Seamus informed me.

Whoop-dee-do. “Give Luca my love,” I replied sarcastically.

“Well that’s enough out of ya,” Seamus advised. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he mumbled under his breath, so low that I almost didn’t hear him.

That was a good sign in my book. Seamus’s little lapse of humanity could be useful later on. Right now I needed a distraction. I was trying to avoid thinking about John or Melissa. I wasn’t ready to deal with the heartache yet.

Pushing myself as far against the bars as I could, I tried to find Elijah. There was very little light down in the dungeon, making it hard to see.

“I’m behind you,” Elijah snickered.

I swung around to see Elijah standing in the middle of my cell. “There’s more to you than meets the eye,” I chuckled.

“I’ve been told that from time to time,” he replied winking playfully at me.

Elijah handed me the same cup he had given me every day since my arrival. “I don’t think you need my help anymore. With the healing that is.”

I smiled at the old man. “I’m almost back to one hundred percent. Thank you by the way.”

“It was nothing,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “We help each other down here. It’s how we survive Abel.”

I drank the contents of the cup, thinking about Elijah’s words. Twice now this man had come to my aid and I had given him nothing in return. Elijah should hate me since I left him down here the last time I went for a jog through the dungeons. As an Otherworlder, I was a part of the political machine that had ostracized and shunned his people. Yet here he was, a selfless man, helping his enemy. I felt awfully humbled by my thoughts.

Elijah reached out and retrieved the empty cup from my hands. “You have a kind soul,” he remarked.

I was surprised at first when he told me that. Even though others can read my general feelings I wasn’t used to Elijah being able to read my thoughts.

“I can’t stay long,” he told me as he walked to the front of my cell. “It’s dangerous for us to move about down here during the day. I will return later.”

Elijah was at the cell door when he turned around. “My gift of persuasion will not work on you too much longer, but I can offer you a day’s numbness from your pain,” he offered.

Sometimes a psychic could be an annoying know-it-all. In this case, having Elijah’s help was a blessing. I had wanted diversion and Elijah offered it freely.

“Please,” I asked as I walked towards him. “I just can’t handle it right now.”

He took my hands in his old gnarled ones. “You don’t have to explain it to me. Be at peace.” With that, he disappeared into thin air. There was no trace that he had just been here moments before.


A calm washed over me. The tension and heartache were still there, but it was more like background noise now. This place was not where I wanted to bawl my eyes out. On a couch with ice cream and feel good movies was a far better place to have a meltdown.

Hopefully I would make my out of here, again. Then I could find somewhere safe to hole up and deal with my emotions. In the meantime, I was going to use Elijah’s last gift of persuasion to my advantage and plan my escape.

I sat down on the ground wishing I had a pen and paper to write things down. It was a good thing I had a pretty good memory. Mental notes it was.

From my previous escape I remembered that the dungeon was not as well guarded as it should have been. I wasn’t too sure I could count on that this time around. Abel may be arrogant, but he does learn from his mistakes.

The prison guards only numbered two. The one I spoke with didn’t seem too bright. He ordered the other one around. I was hoping he was the brighter of the two brothers. I wondered if it was possible to exploit their physical and mental handicaps to my advantage. It was a cruel thought, but necessary to consider.

I also remembered my previous route through the mountains and decided that it would be best to use it again. I could count on the path to sabotage my pursuers. There were two destinations I would need after that.

First I would need to go to the Fae village. Counting on Aurora’s guilt over their breech in security, I was hoping they’d allow me passage through their portal to Elemental Deep. I would need the Dwarves to fashion a key to release me from my bonds so I could regain my magic. After that, I could use the Dwarves’ tunnels to go anywhere.

When it came down to it, I didn’t know much. I realized that my escape would take longer than possible this time. I would have to wait and bide my time if I wanted to be successful. Alternate routes, security info, and manpower numbers were just a few of the things I needed to find out.

As I was finishing up my to-do list I was visited by one of the items on my to-kill list. Luca was standing in front of my cell, giving me a look of pity.

“How are you doing?” he asked honestly.

I looked up at him from the ground as if he were insane. “Best. Day. Ever. Seriously Luca, you should try this sometime.”

He ran both of his hands through his straw colored hair. Something was bothering him. It was written all over his face like a big neon sign. “Stupid question, huh?”

I giggled. “Yeah, pretty dumb. On the bright side, you’re not in the number one spot. Iblis and your father are tied for first in that category.”

Luca ignored my sarcasm, turned his head and looked down both sides of the corridor. Finding the area clear, he turned back to me. “Mags, I need you to come closer,” he hissed.

I had turned my attention to the damp straw I was braiding and twisting into a rope (FYI, you can fashion a weapon out of anything. One only needs to have a creative mind.).

I silently laughed at his request, amused by its idiocy. “Why? So you can sucker punch me while I’m already down?” I sat down the small length of rope, stood up, and walked over to him. “You’re a funny boy Luca. You seem to have gotten your father’s sense of humor.”

He flinched at my barb, which I thought was a bit unusual coming from the heir to the throne. I honestly thought Mr. Dead Wrong came down to the dungeon to give me a beating. Abel had an image to uphold after all.

Luca sighed in defeat and opened my cell. “The King requests you to join him for brunch,” he ordered reluctantly.

Under normal circumstances I would’ve already become hostile. Thanks to Elijah, that hostility was transformed into a general nonchalance. My sarcasm, however, was free to run amok. “Gee, I’m a bit busy today,” I told Luca while thumbing through the pages of my invisible schedule. “Do send your father my regards though and let him know he can drop by the next time he’s in the neighborhood.”

Luca hung his head. “For Pete’s sake Mags, do you always have to be so difficult?” he asked, exasperated.

“Difficult?” I repeated. “Oh Luca, you really should have spent a day or two around me before you threw me under the bus. If you had, you might realize that this is me at my most docile.”

He cocked his head in confusion but quickly put two and two together. “Ah. The gypsies have paid you a visit, I see.”

I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally in response.

“It would make sense as to how you’re up and about already,” he said while shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

“Why are you down here?” I asked while taking the five steps that separated us. “I would think that escorting a prisoner would be below the king’s son and captain of the Aelfadl.”

He reached out his hands, grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me roughly. “Damnit Mags! I don’t have time for this banter. Would you just listen to what I have to say?” He lessened his firm grip on me. “Please,” he added.

I looked to the hands on both my shoulders then back at Luca, raising an eyebrow. “I may not have my magic, but you do realize I’m still dangerous don’t you?”

He quickly dropped his hands from my shoulders and took a few steps back, turning away from me. I was trying not to think about it, but I noticed the similarities between him and his brother, from the shape of their hands to the bronze tan of their skin. Even their facial expressions were similar. I don’t know how I missed noticing that.

Luca’s head was back and he was staring at the ceiling. “This is not how I wanted this to go,” he said.

Mental note: Unlike his father, Luca has patience. I won’t be able to exploit his anger.

“What exactly did you think was going to happen?” I asked, curious as to what he was playing at.

Footsteps and voices appeared and made their way down the corridor towards us, stopping Luca from answering. “Luca!” a familiar voice called out. “Luca, are you down here?”

Alarm registered on Luca’s face. “Quick, lie down and pretend you’re asleep,” he hissed.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Why?”

The footsteps drew closer. Luca was getting panicked. “I don’t have time to explain,” he said. “I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

He was right. Trust and Luca went together as well as spaghetti and peanut butter in my book. I hesitated a moment, mulling over my choices. For one, I didn’t know what game Luca was playing. Two, I wasn’t sure what Abel’s House of Horrors had in store for me.

“Please!” Luca begged harshly.

I made the decision to go with Luca’s plan. Better the devil you know… Something clearly had him spooked. If whoever elicited that type of reaction from his was coming for me, I thought playing possum sounded like the right choice.

The footsteps closed in and stopped in front of my cell.

“Luca, didn’t you hear me calling for you man?” the man said.

“Owen,” Luca acknowledged the interloper. “I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“Your father sent me to see what was taking you so long,” Owen informed him. “He wanted to make sure you weren’t taking the bitch for one last ride.”

“Don’t be so crude,” Luca replied in disgust. “You would do well to remember who you are speaking to.”

Owen! That flea ridden mutt worked for Abel? I knew his reaction to David’s death was off, but now I was left wondering how much more there was to the story.


“My apologies your highness,” Owen replied, remembering his place.

Luca poked me gently with his boot. “Anyway, as you can see, Seamus is wrong. She has yet to regain consciousness.”

“You best be sure my lord, she is a sly one,” Owen suggested. He then drove his point home by kicking me, hard, in the ribs. Holy crap it hurt! I wanted to swear, cry, or hit something it hurt so much. As it was, I found the new difficulty in breathing slightly more overwhelming. Through it all, I made no motion or gave any clue to the true status of my level of consciousness.

Seemingly satisfied with my non-reaction, Owen turned back to Luca. “There now, no one could have stayed quiet through that.”

“Was that really necessary?” Luca asked in return.

I believe so,” Owen replied. “Besides, it’s not like your father would care.”

One of these days, I thought, I’m going to get you and your little dogs too!

“You should concern yourself with what I think,” Luca admonished him, his voice full of steely reserve. “My father will not be king forever. As his eldest, on the day he dies, the crown passes to me. I will not tolerate this kind of treatment of our prisoners. Do you really want to start off my lengthy rule on my bad side?”

I couldn’t see it, but I sure heard the submission of the alpha in Owen’s voice. “No, your highness, I don’t.”

“Come on. I’ll have my lieutenant keep me updated on the prisoner’s status,” Luca informed Owen as they left.

I waited until their footsteps had completely receded before I moved a muscle. Rolling over on my back, I lay there, on the moldy, straw covered ground for a few minutes while I tried to breathe. Every time I inhaled, a sharp pain would make my breath catch. I felt like I was drowning.

My ability to heal quickly depended strongly on my magic. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to heal from this with my magic subdued.

After thirty minutes or so, I was able to pull myself up into a seated and slightly more comfortable position. I rested my head against the stone wall of my cell, wondering what lay ahead for me next.