Wild Magic Book One, page 20
I pretended I was in pain and winced.
“It’s all right. It’s almost healed.”
I glanced down at my hand in disappointment then blinked in surprise. Vampire magic worked wonders on their own bodies – it was integrated with their magic systems. When they gifted healing magic, it usually took a long time. You needed physical contact with the vamp for hours. Especially for a cut that deep.
My injury had already scabbed over, and right in front of my eyes, I saw the scab disappear like someone erasing an errant line down a clean canvas.
My cheeks slackened. “How the hell—”
“Bridge witches can form unique connections with vampires. Our healing magic is more accessible to you.”
“Bridge witches,” my voice dropped, “like the warden.”
Why the hell did I do it? Why did I mention her while William looked into my eyes, only 30 centimeters away, while he healed my hand, while I warmed to him, though I couldn’t admit it.
Now he stiffened. I watched it move from his head down to his toes and back again. This storm of anger grabbed him – then he simply receded.
He returned to the same William I’d met behind his desk the first day Jacob dragged me in.
I should leave it. The cold, gray anger in his previously glittering green eyes told me to drop it as fast as possible and step away.
I couldn’t. Blame it on the fact I’d almost died three times… heck, I’d lost count.
“Who is she, anyway? You said you couldn’t tell me anything about her, but she is a bridge witch.” I didn’t question that – I knew it.
I just needed to rewind my mind to when we’d met. If I could see beyond her perfect features, that glorious hair, and her stunning, elegant force, her magic waited.
She seemed to own magic. I surrendered to it – she was in complete control. I didn’t know enough about bridge witches to understand their progression, but if I could become her—
William dropped my hand. It happened so fast, I wondered if he found my presence disgusting.
He walked one step, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and methodically cleaned the blood from his fingers. He shoved the embroidered white silk back into his trousers, then strode ahead several steps.
Way to go for completely ruining the moment, girl.
I stared down at my hand for a few gobsmacked seconds, running my thumb over where the cut should be – but I couldn’t find any evidence. Not even a raised bump.
“Hurry,” William said in his trademark deep, semi-disdainful tone.
So we were back to this, ha? Back to being just the boss and his employee, a vamp and a Bridge Witch contracted to work together forever.
But forever doesn’t exist.
You can’t rely on it, and as soon as you lean into its embrace, it will dump you at its feet.
Chapter 16
The stalkers didn’t find us again. I heard them constantly scratching, and I felt their red gazes on the back of my neck. Whenever it got too much, I shuffled closer to William.
He just strode ahead like a slide rule, feet never deviating from the midline of the tunnel until it changed.
A pang of excitement shot through me. We couldn’t be far away from our destination. Maybe we’d punch right up in the Enforcement Office. Then William could experiment on that magical vial, and we’d discover Fairbridge’s dark secrets.
It took another few steps to conclude something important. I cared about this town now. I needed to find out its secrets, and I wanted to stop the warden.
Had my personality flipped? The me from three days ago hadn’t cared – she’d been happy to dump the responsibility for fixing the town’s problems into someone else’s hands.
Now there wasn’t anyone else.
But we didn’t punch up close to the Enforcement Office.
William became more attentive, and as he slowed, he neared one of the stone walls. We were back in the catacombs – though this section was more stable than the first tunnels. None of the stones were rotting and crumbling to dirt. Only a few of them were loose, and someone had tried to fix them.
My nose twitched. “Does someone maintain this place?”
“Yes. It’s too close to the grounds not to.”
“Grounds?”
He turned, facing me – the first time since I’d started stupidly talking about the warden. “My mansion.”
“We’re headed back there?” My voice tightened with nerves as a memory slapped me. I saw the warden, her smile glittering, danger in her eyes on the bridge.
“Don’t worry,” William reassured in a deep voice. He possessed such a penetrating baritone. I swear you could stand on a tall platform, and if he spoke in the same room as you, you’d still feel his voice shaking up through your feet.
“What if she comes back?”
“You encountered her in the spirit realm. You will not be going into the spirit realm again,” he said like someone laying down the law and banging a gavel on some table. “She cannot enter the mansion anywhere near its grounds in the real world.”
“… Are you sure?”
He shot me a look, one eyebrow arching. Not high. He didn’t need to look sure. This was William. The most powerful vamp in the city. I’d said he couldn’t survive 10 vamps – he’d defeated them in less than five minutes.
My shoulders sagged. William found what he needed in a few steps and turned sharply to the side.
I didn’t see it at first. We came across a T-intersection. I thought he’d head left or right. But William turned toward a tiny nook in the rocks surrounded by large, loose stones.
He twisted his body to the side, sucked his chest in, rounded his shoulders, and shimmied into the nook, then disappeared. I heard him climbing a set of steps, shoes crunching over rock dust and dirt. He grunted, “This way.”
Peering into the darkness, the magical globe above my head not casting enough illumination, I followed him. Because apparently no matter what happened between us, I’d always follow.
Placing my hands on the rough stone, thankful my palm felt better, I negotiated around the crumbling walls and onto a set of stairs.
The tunnel was so narrow, I couldn’t reach my arms out, so I pinned them against my chest. As William climbed, he twisted his shoulders to the side.
I felt different as I climbed the stairs, just knew we neared the Gothic mansion. I could feel it. Close my eyes, and I could see it too.
I didn’t envision the many pictures I’d seen around town – considering the Gothic mansion was the most important castle around these parts. I imagined the flash of the mansion I’d seen behind the bridge. The regal spires, the stunning windows, the endearing yellow glow filtering out from within like candlelight that couldn’t go out.
I had bad associations with the mansion – or at least its bridge. But the higher I climbed those stairs, the more that negativity disappeared.
“Finally,” William said, shoulders sagging.
We reached a thick metal door. It wasn’t cast from shiny steel – it must be ancient iron. Rusted, the ocher red patina covered the entire surface. Run a nail down it, and it would flake. Yet somehow it gave me this sense of total security – like a tank couldn’t even bust through.
The door didn’t have a handle – until it did, until William, muttering under his breath indistinctly, ran a single finger down the center of the door. It resorted, the creaking sound filling the narrow stairwell. A handle emerged, shiny brass and carved. William settled his fingers around it, twisted, and opened it. The hinges didn’t make a single sound.
We walked into the entranceway of Newstead Mansion.
I gasped, breath stolen from my chest, never to return.
I didn’t like architecture – but I loved this place.
I tilted my head back and took in the enormity of the entranceway.
Glancing behind me, I saw the formal main door. It creaked closed like we’d entered from it – except we came from the catacombs.
I couldn’t begin to track the magic involved – but I could track my eyes over every surface. A dappled white and black marble floor led up to blue-gray walls and windows so tall, they must be over 20 meters high. Arched and boasting such elaborate tracery, it would take a day to sketch them, I glimpsed the grounds through them.
I turned on the spot, tilting my head up, gazing at the stunning candelabra above. I couldn’t tell you what it was carved from, but I could tell you that candles permanently lit it. There must be over a thousand of them – the chandelier was that large. Glittering crystals that could honestly be diamonds dangled from beneath, capturing the flickering candlelight and reflecting it around the massive entranceway.
I shifted back, footsteps echoing.
I finally tilted my head down and stared through the rest of the mansion.
Sally once mentioned some architectural technique where you build rooms in a line and cut doors in the middle. It means when all the doors are open and you’re standing in front of one, you can stare through to the other rooms like looking into infinity. Apparently the palace of Versailles used that technique.
I didn’t know why I thought about it now. Versailles was ordinary Earth architecture. This wasn’t. As I stood in the middle of the foyer, gazing left and right, I stared through doors that definitely stretched on for eternity. It felt like the mansion went on and on and on. You could live here forever and never get bored.
But I didn’t live here. Remember that fact – this wasn’t my place. Tell that to my feet.
I walked, mesmerized, toward the large carved and curved staircase leading to the floors above. The banister, polished until it shone, boasted the same elaborate details of the windows.
I could’ve walked up, but at the last moment, one footstep away from the stairs, I stared down.
Stone and marble steps led to a dark basement. No. The right word jumped into my mouth, and I whispered it under my breath, “Crypt—”
I didn’t get another step toward it – William grabbed my hand. He squeezed his fingers in hard – the only time I’d ever felt them lock around me with anything other than gentle ease. “Don’t go down there,” he said, forcing the law into the word don’t until it felt like every judge in the world proclaimed that all at once.
I shivered, surprised by both his touch and his harsh rebuke. “Ah… sorry. I just assumed it was the crypt down there.”
He watched me, gaze dark. “The crypt is down there.” He could barely move his lips as he admitted that. “But you will not go down there. Nobody goes down there anymore.”
I watched him. I let him hold my hand. I couldn’t break his grip, and it wasn’t like I wanted to.
“You’re going to have to stay here. Just for a little. It’s the safest place for you right now.”
“Ha? You are leaving?” It took too long for my brain to figure that out.
William still held my hand – which meant he saw every single micro-movement of my muscles as my lips flatlined in fear.
“Don’t worry, Lillian. You’ll be fine. I’ll head back to the Enforcement Office. We’ll flush the tunnels.”
“But if we got here through the catacombs, what about John—”
“A vampire like John can never visit my mansion. Trust me on that. It would never let him in. It won’t let anyone into it or the grounds unless they have my explicit permission.”
… Vampire mansions. I remembered what Sally said in passing on the bus. She hated vamp mansions because they felt like they were alive. If they didn’t like you, they’d make their feelings known.
William hated me, or something close. I kept disappointing him, and the only reason he hadn’t kicked me out of the Enforcement Office yet was he needed me.
My lips twitched wide, stiff and white. “But your mansion must hate me. What if it throws me down the stairs or buries me in the garden?”
For the second time today, William shot me a sideways look. I remembered the first time he’d used that stare on me – I’d asked why his arms weren’t around me.
This one didn’t last. His nose crumpled. “Why would my mansion bury you in the garden?”
“Vampire mansions are partially alive – or at least they have a spirit or something. I don’t know. It was just something my friend said. Sally—” I said her name, and a ton of emotional bricks struck my chest and tried to crush it.
My shoulders slackened. I felt tears staining my eyes.
“I doubt she’s dead, Lillian.”
“But why was she taken? Who took her—” Did I need to ask?
I’d squeezed through the passageway in the Tudor place, and we’d found the warden.
This came back to her. To her glittering eyes, to her perfect locks, to her snide smile and power.
I didn’t need to pull my hand back from William – he dropped it. He neatened his tie – which was shredded – then gave up as half the smooth black fabric dropped onto the floor.
He opened the top button of his collar, then grunted, “This way.”
“Why would the Bridge Warden take Sally?” I didn’t move a centimeter, just ground my nails into my palms and ignored the pain. At this rate, I’d cut myself again – then William would have to stare into my eyes and caress the injury until it healed.
I didn’t care.
OK, I cared – but I didn’t care enough that I stopped myself from demanding, “Please, just tell me. Why would the warden take Sally?”
“You can’t be that innocent, Lillian. She took Sally to get to you. And that’s why you’re going to stay here. This way,” he commanded.
A wave of emotion, repulsion, and self-hatred struck me.
It could’ve picked me off my feet and dumped me on my face.
Sally… Sally was dragged into this because of me.
If she hadn’t known me, she’d be fine.
“She—”
“Whatever you’re thinking, Lillian, stop. You’re simply playing into the warden’s hands.”
“You say that like you know her. Because you know her.” I didn’t question him – I stated that as a fact, remembering the warden sliding her fingers down his jaw and gazing into his eyes.
His back bristled. He grunted, “Come,” one last time.
I didn’t know if the mansion compelled me or I felt sorry for him, but I unstuck my feet and raced over. He led me through the statuesque, elegant foyer to a closed door. Every other door was open.
This one needed to be coaxed open with a spell. He brushed his thumb down the center of the elaborately carved brass handle, and it twisted once to the left then the right. With a few more muttered enchantments, it twisted three times to the left then four times to the right, reminding me of a safe.
When he finally cracked it, the door opened, and I entered the Gothic sitting room of my dreams.
I didn’t forget Sally – I’d never forget Sally – but for a few seconds, my jaw slid open, and I took it in.
The room was large, so big, you could hold a significant function in here. It must be at the front of the house along one of the curved edges. Four massive, 30-meter-high arched windows stared out onto the grounds. The tracery at the top was so perfect, it reminded me of Notre Dame.
I wanted to stagger over, place a hand on one of the bars, and feel the mastery of every carved stroke.
I couldn’t unstick my feet. Four grand, white couches faced one another with perfect cream embroidered cushions. A stunning rug, blue and white and gold, sat between them. Its tones matched the bluish-gray walls. The coffee table looked ancient – 2000 years old if I could guess. Nothing sat on top except for a single book and a half-melted candle.
The table didn’t need the candle for light. Multiple candelabras attached to the walls lit the room. A large chandelier, reminiscent of the one in the foyer, dangled from the center of the ceiling. It reflected candlelight everywhere but didn’t flicker as much as the fire. To my left, a beautifully detailed, carved stone fireplace gave the room character, heat, and charm.
Without it, it would’ve felt like walking into the most imposing place ever. With it, I strode straight over to it, turned, and let the warmth sink into my frigid body.
William watched me the entire time. He stopped behind one of the couches, two fingers rested on the carved back. “You like it?”
“This place is amazing. If I’d known it looked like this, I would’ve booked a tour—”
His left eyebrow faltered, twitching half a centimeter. “Tour?”
I frowned. “I’m pretty sure you could tour this place a couple of years back, couldn’t you? Am I wrong? When did you buy it?”
“I didn’t buy it. I re-inherited it.”
“Ha?”
“Never mind.”
“You could tour it… I’m not lying, am I?”
“You probably aren’t. I wouldn’t know.” He turned from me. He walked over to the ancient carved table and got down on one knee beside it like a respectful doctor leaning out to a patient. He plucked up the book with a strong, steady hand, but only after he rolled his torn cuff up like he didn’t want its tattered fabric to touch it.
I enjoyed the heat of the fire, but it couldn’t distract from William’s expression as he leafed through the pages. He slid his thumb down the parchment, muttering under his breath, probably activating spells.
“Wait a second – is that a compendium of the mansion’s spells?”
Still muttering under his breath, he nodded.
“Wow. I didn’t think they existed. Not in modern mansions. I didn’t think vamps still had power like that.”
He finished, closed the book, gently placed it down where it belonged, then rose.
He blew the candle out.
It immediately lit itself, but with a different flame. This glowed a deep green just like his eyes.
“This mansion still has access to ancient vampire power, Lillian.”
“But vamps like that died out a long time ago. Or at least their magic was purged. There was some kind of fight between them, wasn’t there?”
