16. A Waltz to Remind Him

09.30.203 UI

The increasingly slow revolutions of the earth that took place over the following week might have brought Morgan to tears without his preparations for the Harkening Ball to distract him. They had no new leads on Abernathy. The location Daphne tracked him to turned up nothing. If the ECPD had any new information regarding the bombing, they weren’t about to offer it up to members of the OC or to a suspended officer too close to the situation. Aaron had now been attacked twice by the man. Even though the bombing seemed untargeted, as Abernathy couldn’t have possibly known Aaron would flip a switch and take off at the mention of his name, it still sat uneasy in Morgan’s gut.

He hadn’t heard anything more from Aaron since his message, but Lexi had assured them that he was slowly finding himself again. She had also reiterated that when he’d woken up, he was rather upset to find that Morgan had gone. The magic he’d used before leaving had been a waking message, intended to be the first thing Aaron heard when he regained consciousness. Perhaps that had been rather cruel on his part. He could have slept in the chair at the hospital, but considering how they had left things, he didn’t want the guy to feel ambushed after just suffering a near death experience.

He was resolved to give Aaron whatever amount of time he needed, but that resolve didn’t stop his stomach from doing cartwheels every time his phone vibrated. And with the ball approaching, the number of calls and messages he’d been receiving were beginning to make him feel sick.

Theresa had contacted Morgan the morning after his mad dash through Central Hospital. Initially, it had been to scold him for his reckless behavior in front of commons, but he could practically hear her smile when she mentioned that saving a member of the ECPD from almost certain death had garnered him a small amount of popularity within the city government.

“It’s not strictly necessary, but for the sake of appearances, now might be a good time for some form of charity offering. Something the city would appreciate. Perhaps a project related to healthcare?” she suggested.

“I don’t think the hospital is in any dire need of funds at the moment, considering the amount they charge for the inability to save someone’s life,” he scoffed.

Theresa chuckled. “No, no. That will only appear weak if you ask me. Can’t have it seeming as if you regret your actions. But give it a good think, will you? Something that matters to you.”

Morgan had enough credits to build a new hospital if he wanted and still have more money than he knew what to do with. There was an idea he had been working on that fit the bill, however, regarding a certain long-term care facility in the East District. Now didn’t seem like the best time, though. He didn’t want Aaron to think he was throwing credits around to make up for his behavior. “I will.”

“Oh, and Morgan, I have to say, brilliant idea going with a masquerade theme for the ball. I think it will really help to keep your origins veiled. You may be centuries old, but that doesn’t mean anyone needs to know which century!” She laughed at her own joke.

“Yeah... that was the idea,” he lied.

Morgan entered the Manor from the front door again, covered in less grime than usual, and the main hall creaked in welcome. He patted the wainscoting. “I’m not replacing you. I promise.”

Another groan came in response.

Daphne and Frey huddled on one of the sofas, pouring over dozens of magazines as he went to the kitchen for a snack. “What are you two up to?”

Frey called back in a singsong voice, “You tell us your secrets, and we’ll tell you ours!”

He chuckled. “Actually, I think it’s ready.”

Daphne plopped the magazine in her hand onto the coffee table with a look of uncontrollable glee. “Shane! Party prep is done!”

Seconds later the hall door opened, revealing the greenhouse beyond. Shane wore a shocked expression. “What? Whoa. First time it’s ever done that on the first go. I usually get a bathroom at least once.”

Morgan cackled. “She’s showing off. Doesn’t like that I connected a new space so close.” The cupboards behind him trembled from the kitchen.

“You did what?” Shane gawked.

“Yeah. You didn’t think this whole place could fit in the tiny building outside, did you?” Morgan smirked, waving a hand around the Manor. “I created a spatial corridor that links the two together. The Manor up here, and now our venue on the floor below.” His explanation did nothing to return Shane’s jaw to a closed position. “Come on.”

He led the way to the elevator, the others following behind like children being corralled to the tree on Solstice morning. The elevator opened to a glistening hallway of black marble tile. Elegant, purple curtains lined black walls that ended with a large set of double doors fitted with gold accents. He turned to his friends, walking backward as he spoke, “So, this is a project I’ve been thinking on for some time. Now that we’re an official coven, I think we can expect a lot more parties in the future.”

“You do love your parties for someone who behaves like such a recluse,” Daphne mused.

“And putting on a show,” Shane added.

“Guilty.” Morgan shrugged with a grin. He turned toward the doors with a wave of his hand, and they opened wide, along with the eyes of his entourage.

The black marble expanded ahead, down a small staircase with a golden banister, and out onto a massive dance floor. Raised walkways lined the floor, wrapped in matching gold railings. Small, lavish couches in purple and ornate wooden tables were tucked away in private seating areas just off the walkways. The path on either side of the entrance split upwards with more stairs, leading to a wrap-around balcony that overlooked the dance floor, where tall windows revealed a garden patio overlooking the city.

Marble bar counters lined with plush stools were built into the walls in opposite corners ahead of towering backbars that could hold copious amounts of liquor. At the other end of the room, directly ahead, was a raised stage, lined with upward facing spotlights, large enough to host an entire rock band.

“Oh, Morgan!” Daphne gasped, “Morgan, this is incredible! You built this?”

Morgan bobbed his head, beaming with pride. “I mean, magically. Not much for power tools.”

Frey ran out onto the dance floor and began twirling, laughing as they went.

“This is awesome!” Shane shouted, his voice echoing through the space as he ran his hand across the nearest bar, “Can I bartend? Please? I swear I’m good at it! No easier way to pick up-” he sputtered as Daphne shot him a look, “Tips! Really big tips!”

Morgan snorted. “Sure, Shane, but... not for the ball. The Council is going to be grilling you with the rest of us.”

Daphne took a few steps down the main staircase and snapped her fingers. A charming piano waltz filled the room as she turned back to Morgan with an outstretched hand. “May I have this dance, gorgeous?”

Morgan smiled wide as he took her hand. “Nice conjuring.”

“Learned from the best!” She smirked, dragging him onto the floor far enough away that they wouldn’t collide with Frey as they continued to spin in time with the music. “Is he looking?” Daphne whispered.

Morgan stole a look toward the bar. Shane leaned across the counter from behind, watching them with a dreamy expression on his face. Morgan feigned insult. “Are you using me to ruffle your paramour, my good lady?”

“Shut up. He’s not my paramour.” She heated a little in the face. “But if he wants to talk about scoring a date by bartending, I can play that game too.”

Morgan giggled. “I think that works better when your dance partner plays for the right team, darling.”

“And isn’t totally enamored with a certain sexy cop.” Daphne grinned.

Morgan rolled his eyes with a bright grin of his own.

“Whatever,” she scoffed, “You’re hot as the hells combined, it’ll do.”

Shane’s eyes remained on them, not jealous in the slightest. The music carried them on, elegantly keeping time as their steps echoed across the floor. This felt familiar to Morgan. Peaceful, even.

As they laughed and danced, the floor sparkled beneath their feet. Lights of gold, violet and pink filled the air around them, hovering between the floor and their waists. They all gasped with delight, giving Morgan glances of wonder.

“It’s enchanted,” he explained with a proud smirk, “It feels the energy in the room and creates an atmosphere to go with it.”

Frey ran their fingers through the balls of light. “So pretty!”

Morgan was truly beginning to enjoy moments like this with his little family. They moved through the light show, trying to get the floor to react to their changes in pace. The orbs stayed, but bobbed and swayed in time with them, changing colors and sizes. As they danced, he let himself imagine, for the briefest of moments, that it was someone else in his arms, gazing at him if he were the only one in the world.

The room shifted around him. Marble became polished stone. Purple finery turned a vibrant red, emblazoned with sunlit, gold dragons. The stage morphed into a raised platform lined with red carpets, upon which sat two great thrones of oak. Figures spun and twirled around them, dressed in gowns of fine silk and embroidered coats as harp music flowed through the air.

Morgan flushed. His heart beat faster. His head began to spin and whirl like the dancers surrounding him. This was nothing like the memories he’d caught glimpses of so far. This could be real. He could smell the musty air of the hall, feel the vibration of the music in his ears. He sensed the joy radiating from the one holding him against their body in a perfect waltz.

“Morgan!” Daphne’s voice shattered the vision. The lights that had surrounded them dissipated. He stepped back from her, scanning the room, now black marble and purple accents—empty, save for his coven.

“I-” he stammered, “It happened again. A memory, but... it was so real. I was there. I was living it.”

Daphne stared with concern as Shane descended the stairs. Frey had stopped spinning and was reaching out, sensing his panic and confusion.

“What did you see?” Daphne spoke in a hushed tone.

Morgan took a few steps across the floor, bewildered at his own creation. “I think... I think I’ve seen this room before. Not this exact room, but I think that I, subconsciously somehow-” He was still looking from corner to corner of the hall. “I designed it exactly like the ballroom in the castle.”

“Castle Pendragon?”Daphne’s stare grew bigger.

Morgan nodded, still taking in the similarities.

“They’re really coming back,” she said, “Were you... you know? Thinking about…”

His eyes filled with ache and a hint of embarrassment. She gave him a sad smile with a sigh and a drop of her shoulders.

“I don’t...” Morgan croaked, rubbing his eyes, “I don’t understand.”

Morgan spent the next two days locked in his study, pulling out his old notes on memory magic. He had tried, for the first year he was in Etna, to find a way to recover his past, but memory spells were complicated and often forbidden. A simple mind wipe to force someone to forget the past few moments, or even a day or two was simple enough. But when done correctly, only the witch that had taken the memories could return them. And Morgan hadn’t a clue who had done this to him.

Merlin had likely entombed him, as was his responsibility as his former teacher to watch over Morgan’s body. Even a dead witch, or mostly dead in his case, still coursed with magic that could be used by anyone depraved enough to harness it. But every avenue Morgan had searched led him to believe that Merlin had long since left this world—and he had searched to the point of exhaustion many times over.

Now that it was clear that Aaron was somehow capable of letting small cracks of light into his mind, Morgan began looking for anything that might reference some form of focus or trigger for memory restoration. Finding nothing, he slumped into his chair. He blew out a breath, attempting to replicate the experience, finding himself more than happy to entertain whatever random Aaron-related thought crossed his mind.

Morgan thought of Aaron colliding with him in that underground ruin, and the moment when he connected his magic to him. He pictured the blush on the mans cheeks when he had mustered up the nerve to suggest a date. He recalled the way those eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and the way his own lips tingled when he had kissed him on the forehead in the hospital.

He sat there for hours, playing Aaron Jones video in his head on repeat, but nothing came. It seemed to require an organic moment. Morgan stared down at the desk, recalling his temper tantrum not long ago in another moment of frustration, and he chose to do better.

He left his study for the first time since the memory of the castle, making his way into the living room, when he heard Daphne speaking to someone from the hall.

“Okay! I can’t wait! Yep, we’ll see you then. Bye.”

Morgan rapped gently on the doorframe. “What’s up?”

Daphne rounded on him, startled and looking flustered. “Oh! Hey, um, nothing, just confirming some of the guests with Theresa.”

Morgan raised his brows. “Oh? We get more RSVPs?”

“Uh... yeah, a few from the Lowell coven that were on the fence and Missus Ketler.”

Morgan walked to the kitchen, snatching an apple from the fruit bowl. “That old bat who marks up her potions because she claims to be a descendant of Rowena? I thought she confirmed last week.”

“Oh... well, she did, but she called this morning to tell me she might not make it, something about a full moon ritual she had planned. She decided it could wait till next month, though.”

“Annoying.” He rolled his eyes, taking a bite with a crunch. “You know whud you’re wuring yed?”

She shot him a grin. “Yes! I’m so excited! Frey really outdid themself.”

“Show me!” he whined.

She shook her head, smiling. “Nope. Your turn to be surprised.”

“Fine.” Morgan pouted. “Speaking of, where is Frey? They wanted my opinion on some details for my suit.”

“Oh, uh, you just missed them. Shane took them to a haberdashery in the South District he knows.”

“For what?” he asked, whipping open the cupboard that hid the trash bin with a wave to toss the apple core, “They’re fae. They don’t need materials.”

Daphne shrugged, flushing slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe they just wanted inspiration then? I watched them work for the first time yesterday. It was wild! I’ve never seen fae magic before.”

The Manor shuddered around them.

“Other than you, of course!” Daphne yelled, and the rumbling stopped, “So needy.”

Morgan plopped into an armchair facing the balcony with a sigh. “Did Theresa ever get back to you with anything on Abernathy?”

Daphne exhaled dejectedly. “No. Still no missing witches. If there were, I think we would’ve been alerted. Not that that’s a bad thing.”

“Well, he’s channeling something. There’s no tech out there that can seize a person’s free will like what you described, thank the gods.”

Daphne sat on the sofa nearest Morgan, turning on the display. “I did send Theresa the vid I got from Esotech’s CCTV of him attacking the guard. She noticed something I didn’t.”

“Daph! I told you to keep it simple with her!” Morgan groaned.

She shot him a scowl. “Oh, relax. She knows better than to get in your way.” She fiddled with her comm, swiping at her temple to relay the recording to the screen.

Just as Daphne had said, a hooded, lanky figure came around the side of the building and crept into the guard booth. Through the window, a struggle could be seen taking place, then only Abernathy remained standing. Seconds later, the guard got to his feet with no regard for the man who had assaulted him, left the booth, and walked slowly toward the door with a blank expression on his face.

Morgan abruptly leaned forward, his heart thudding against his ribcage. “Freeze that!”

“You see it?” Daphne asked, jumping up to point at what looked like a small stain on the guard’s shirt near the center of his chest, “I checked the video, that wasn’t there before the attack.”

“No, it’s not that. Play it again from when the guard gets up.”

She rolled back the time stamp, and Morgan’s palms broke out in a sweat.

A chill raced down his spine. “That’s exactly how the things we fought off in the underground moved...”

“What the fuck did he do to him?” Daphne whispered, “I tried to get answers out of Esotech about the guard, they said he’s on sabbatical.”

Morgan’s mind was racing, putting the pieces together. The zombie-like behavior, the stain on the shirt, the files he’d found looking for Aaron, Abernathy’s research and—his hex bullet. “He’s not on sabbatical.”

“So, he’s dead?”

“Worse,” Morgan breathed with his eyes fixed on the guard’s lifeless figure, “Much worse. Abernathy’s research. The obsession with runes. He’s had something to channel this whole time, Daph.”

“What is he using?” She turned between the video and the look of horror on Morgan’s face.

“Every human soul, witch or common, contains traces of magic.” He glared furiously at the screen. “My bullet rebounded on me in the tunnels. That wouldn’t have happened if there was any sort of consciousness in those things. They were empty. They’re nothing but puppets—mindless dolls with a madman holding the strings—their souls! He’s channeling human souls to power his runes! Dozens, maybe hundreds of them at once to accomplish whatever he’s doing!”

Daphne’s expression matched his now, and her voice grew angrier with every word, “Soul magic. He’s... he’s burning them up? He’s leaving people as empty shells and just letting them wither away?”

“And as long as he has their soul in his possession, he can make them do anything he wants,” he nodded grimly, “We can’t keep this from the Council any longer. This is twisted beyond anything the witches ever attempted with soul magic. Theresa needs to know. And Abernathy needs to die.”