Magic Incarnate the Box Set 1-3, page 25
I close my eyes. Within my heart is my magic, as well as my love for Vince. If anything can help me save him, it’s that.
Please, dear Lord, I need your help now more than ever. I know I’m not human, that I’m magic, but I still want to be one of Your children. Please heed my cry and help me, and Vince.
My heart burns, and I gasp from the pain. Energy courses within me from my heart to every part of my body. My magic is still within me, has always been there. It flows throughout my body, and I assume my true form. The barrier shatters, and I feel powerful once more.
There’s no time to waste. With my mind, I create a small seed and throw it to the ground that’s racing up to meet us. My magic nurtures the seed, forcing it to grow as if each second is a hundred years. It blossoms into a huge, leafy tree. I bend the branches to form something similar to a baseball mitt.
A second later, the rock crashes into the tree. The impact jars me so harshly I’m yanked back into my human form. A large fissure splinters down the sides of the rock.
Vince?
“Vince!”
If the collision injured him… if it did worse… I should have figured out another way to save us…
I push the two sides of the rock apart with my feet. With a cracking sound, the rock fissures open like an egg. There’s not enough light for me to see inside, to see if Vince is all right.
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Shocked and dismayed, I glance wildly around until I locate Mr. Venator. After one last look at the rock, I float down to stand several feet away from him.
“What do you want from me?” I demand angrily.
“Do you know how special you are, girl?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not here to talk or answer questions. I just want to save Vince and go.”
“Ah, yes, the boy. Encasing him in that rock seemed so clever at the time. How was I supposed to know that your biggest fear was an earthquake? Or that one would dislodge his rock from its hiding spot? But all that is immaterial. You may have found him, but you haven’t rescued him yet, and you certainly aren’t leaving.”
“Why do you hate me? Because I’m a…” What had the supposed Thunderstruck called me? “Because I’m an abomination?”
“You aren’t an abomination. You are the rebirth, the renewal. You are the one who will finally destroy all those with magic.”
He wants me to end the war between the witches and the shamans, but not by choosing one side and helping them win. No, he wants both sides annihilated.
How anyone could think I’d be a party to a massacre, I don’t know. It’s baffling. Frankly, it stings.
“And what then?” I ask skeptically. “If I did destroy them?”
“Then I will kill you.” His lips curl into a nasty smile.
“And the world will no longer have any magic within it.”
“None.” Looking like a cat that caught the canary, he steeples his fingers. he lifts his eyebrows as if daring me to defy him.
Defy him I will. Despite this hellish place he’s created, he doesn’t scare me. Nothing he can say or do will get me to do as he wishes.
I float higher above him. “Mr. Venator, do you believe in miracles?”
He narrows his eyes. “What’s your point?”
“Only that you can’t decide whether or not there is magic in the world. I can’t either. It’s not up to us.” I look upward even though the sky isn’t above me.
“Superstitious religious nonsense.”
“You are an ignorant fool.” I sound convincing, firm, but I’m still questioning it myself. Does God exist?
“I’m not some heathen like the shamans,” he growls. His anger and frustration make him vulnerable. His emotions will cause him to make a mistake.
Mine might do the same to me if I’m not careful.
I rub my chin and lower myself to the ground. “Do you kill them too, or only witches?”
“My family has hunted down the witches for centuries now. My father and I are the first to pay attention to the shamans.”
“You mean use them for your gain,” I say critically.
“In some instances.” He holds up his hand. “But enough talking. We can go on and on, arguing politics and religion and the purpose of the world, but not now. There is something I need you to do.”
The audacity of the man! “What’s that?”
“I’ll allow you and that boy…” He juts his chin toward the rock in the tree. “To leave if you promise to convince my son to follow his legacy and embrace his right as a witch hunter. I know you, good little religious girl. You always keep your word.”
I smile inwardly. Could it be that simple, that easy? I may be religious, but I’m no saint, and I’m far from perfect. In fact, my most common sin is lying.
“Don’t even think about crossing me,” he adds idly. “It was all too easy for me to convince Stormtide to kidnap the boy. I could do so myself next time. Or I could just kill him.”
My anger bubbles up within me, igniting beyond the point of control. With an inhuman yell, I raise my arm and blast Mr. Venator.
He disappears.
Strong hands grip my throat. I claw at him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Blackness dots my vision. I lift my foot and kick backward, connecting with his upper thigh.
Mr. Venator releases me and staggers back. A small vial is in his hand. He winds up. Before he can throw it, I shatter the glass. A puff of green smoke escapes and dissipates into the air. To my disappointment, he’s unfazed.
“I’ve hunted a lot of witches over the years,” he remarks.
A decent-sized rock sits on the ground behind him. My emotions are too scattered for me to be able to lift it magically.
“Killed most of the ones I’ve met. If you won’t join me and help my cause, then there’s no reason for me not to kill you too.” A knife appears in his hand.
How? He’s not a witch. I know he isn’t, and even if he had a vial, he isn’t a shaman either. Can he only use magic like this because this isn’t the real world? Anything can happen in dreams.
And in nightmares.
The knife’s gone from his hand. Where did it go?
I gasp at the shock of pain that floods my system as the knife buries itself into my stomach. Ignoring the agony, I concentrate on the rock. It shakily floats, and I magically lob it at Mr. Venator’s head.
With a groan, he collapses. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. “This isn’t the end,” he promises before vanishing.
My arms feel too heavy as I struggle to lift them. My fingers slide on the hilt before I can grasp it enough to remove the knife. My pain doesn’t lessen. Blood gushes from the wound. Somehow, I’m walking toward the tree. My foot slips on the puddle of blood forming beneath me.
Looks like I will find out whether or not dying here will cause me to die in real life.
A hand brushes my hair back. When had I closed my eyes? I open them. Vince, dirtier than I’ve ever seen him, handsomer too, kneels before me.
“You came,” he whispers. A light of peace and happiness shines in his eyes.
“I told you I would never leave you.”
He chokes back a sob. “I thought… Tommy did.”
“Not by choice.” My hand shakes as I grasp him, my blood coating our joined hands.
“Never by choice.” He brings my hand to his lips. “You need to sleep now, Crystal.”
“I am tired.” My voice sounds far away. “But—”
“Sh.”
My mind is beginning to turn cloudy. My heartbeat is slowing. I can feel myself slip away. But there’s something I want to say… something I have to say…
Vince strokes my cheek. “I know you love me.” His voice is so soft I hardly hear him.
“I know you love me.” My lips won’t cooperate. I can’t smile. The pain vanishes, replaced by a numbness that scares me even more. “Am I dying?”
He shakes his head. “No. The only one here who can die is me.”
I struggle to sit up.
“Don’t move.” Vince eases me back down.
“How… how can I save you? Get you out of here?”
“That’s simple. We just have to go to sleep.”
“And then we’ll be free?”
“Yes.”
How can he be so certain? I gulp. Sleep is so tempting, but what if I never wake up? “Will we remember everything that went on here?” I ask, stalling.
“I won’t. You might.”
So he won’t know I love him. I pray I’ll have the chance to tell him again.
“Go to sleep now,” he urges.
“Not without you,” I mumble.
Vince lies down beside me, and we cuddle. Too exhausted to fight it any longer, I fall asleep within seconds.
Chapter 37
When I open my eyes, I’m back in the clearing, my body whole and pain-free. Vince’s head rests on my lap, and I caress his cheek. He feels warm, his chest rising and falling, his heartbeat strong.
“She’s trying to save him,” Gavin says, and I glance up to see him standing with the witches.
“It’s not possible,” Sapphire Belladonna says. “That curse is—”
Has no time passed?
I clear my throat, and they look over. “He’s sleeping now.”
Sapphire Belladonna grimaces. Her disbelief wounds me.
Silver Tiger smiles like the giant cat she’s named after. She walks over and stares at Vince then touches his forehead. “She’s right.” There’s no trace of surprise in her voice. Her smile grows even larger, haughtier. “Didn’t I tell you that you can do anything?”
I’m too happy to be annoyed she’s claiming some of the credit. “Thank you all for coming. I’m glad Mom was able to send you word.”
Silver Tiger frowns. “I haven’t seen Patricia in many years.”
My grin dies. “Then how did you know I needed your help?”
“Scrying.” Sapphire Belladonna glides over.
“You’re still spying on me?”
Sapphire Belladonna opens her mouth.
I hold up my hand. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” Careful not to jar Vince, I grab my cell and dial Mom. It goes straight to voicemail.
I lean down and kiss Vince’s forehead. As much as I hate being separated from him, I have to find out what happened to Mom. A sinking feeling fills my stomach. I long to rouse him, but he would have too many questions. Besides, his waking up here would cause him so much confusion. If letting him sleep longer saves him from fear, I’m more than willing to wait to be reunited with him.
“Gavin.”
He approaches. “What do you need?”
“Take Vince home. Try to keep him asleep.”
“What should I tell his parents?”
I shrug, preoccupied by my worry and fear for my mom. “You guys had to leave the fire hall to get something. Then you decided to get some coffee and dessert after setting up for the memorial. You lost track of time, and your cell phones died. I don’t know. Make up something.”
“Will do.” He smiles.
His willingness to help me makes me feel awful. His father hadn’t lied. Gavin does care for me deeply. I can see it in his face. “Thank you. You’re a wonderful friend.”
His smile spreads from cheek to cheek. “Friends are overrated. I don’t need them, remember?”
I laugh and squeeze Vince’s hand as Gavin struggles to lift him.
After I jump to my feet, I magically lift Vince for him. How can I feel so strong after the abuse my imagined body went through?
Gavin returns to the car, and I slip Vince into the back seat. “Put his seatbelt on,” I call.
He does and drives away.
Loneliness fills me, an emptiness that only my loved ones can fill. A wave of exhaustion sweeps over me, and I sway.
“Relax. You’re doing too much.” Silver Tiger grabs my arm.
I brush her away. “I’ll be fine. I can do anything, right?”
Is that… concern in the witch’s eyes?
“Before Gavin and I came here, I asked my mom to go to the mountain to find you.” I swallow hard. Vince is safe, but Mom might not be.
“Then we’ll go to the cottage.” Sapphire Belladonna touches my shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
I take a long look around the clearing and into the surrounding darkness of the forest. I’m about to leave the place where I had been fated to die. A sense of invincibility empowers me. Nothing can stop me. I will find Mom, and all will be well again.
The four of us leap upward and tear through the air. The wind is frigid but not nearly as cold as it had been in Vince’s mind. Although we have a great distance to travel, it feels like the journey only takes a minute. We land in front of the cottage, the door half off the hinges.
“We’ll go first,” Amethyst Wolf says.
I ignore her. “Mom!” I hurry inside, the witches on my heels.
The cottage is ransacked, the furniture overturned, mirror broken, the keepsakes from the mantel shattered against the floor.
“She’s not here,” I whisper to myself.
“Do not fret, child. We can do a spell to learn what happened here.”
I’m not paying them any attention, not even sure which one spoke. I approach the mantel and stare at my reflection through the large spidery cracks of the mirror. There’s some dirt on the glass, and I wipe it away with my hand.
Not dirt. Dried blood.
Embedded into the crack is a strand of reddish blond hair. Mom made it to the cottage. Where did she go? And did she go willingly?
“Spell?” I repeat. “What is it? Let me help.”
The witch sisters go right the couch, and Silver Tiger bodily forces me to sit on it.
“Conserve your strength,” Silver Tiger says. “We can handle this.”
I want to argue, but she’s right, plus I’m exhausted. My eyes close despite my trying to stay awake, and I enter a trance-like state. I’m not sleeping, but I’m not completely awake either. I can see and hear the witches, even though it’s dark and they’re muffled like through sunglasses and ear muffs.
They hold hands and chant, “Time rewind and give us new eyes. Give us insight into the past. Time rewind and give us new eyes. Give us insight into the past. Time rewind and give us new eyes. Give us insight into the past.”
The air in the cottage shifts and becomes older, staler. The furniture rights itself, and the door closes.
Knock, knock. The door opens. I almost abandon my trance when I see Mom.
She looks around, anxiety written in the lines on her forehead and around her mouth. “Elizabeth?” She closes the door and walks around the cottage before sitting down on the couch beside me.
Every five minutes or so, Mom gets up, paces for a little, and then sits down again. During her third pacing, the door slams open, and several unfamiliar men and women flood the cottage.
Silver Tiger mutters something.
Mom jumps to her feet. “Who are you?”
A man glares at her and shoves his trench coat behind him. “Who are you?” His voice is raspy. He furrows his unibrow at her.
Mom silently sits down.
More people enter. A woman walks over to the mantel. With one sweep of her hand, she knocks off all of the keepsakes from it. Most break, shattering into several pieces.
“Stop!” Mom stands again. She’s more furious than I’ve ever seen her before. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”
“For one thing, for you to shut up.” The unibrow man removes an open zipper from his pocket and zips it shut.
Mom’s lips form an impossibly small, thin line. She visibly makes an effort to talk but isn’t able to. Lines of frustration form around her lips.
Several of the people trash the cottage, and it’s evident they’re looking for something or someone.
The witches. They thought they were hiding somewhere.
Which means the people have to be shamans.
Of all nights, they picked this night to battle the witches. The night when Mom’s alone in the witches’ cottage. The night when a rogue shaman kidnaps Vince. The night before the memorial service. This terrible, terrible night that is turning into a living nightmare.
A few minutes later, the cottage looks almost identical to when we entered. All of the shamans leave the cottage save for the unibrow man and the mantel woman.
The man stomps over to Mom. He holds up the zipper and opens it. “Where are they?” he demands angrily.
She crosses her arms and taps her foot. “Do you think I would tell you?”
The woman slaps her. “Where are they?”
“If I knew where they were, don’t you think I would be with them?”
I have to snicker. Mom giving the shamans lip is hilarious.
“She’s useless. We might as well get rid of her,” the woman says.
“I’d like to see you try.” Mom doesn’t sound, or look, the least bit frightened. Love floods me, giving me more strength and energy.
The woman tilts her head back and roars with laughter. “What can you do to stop us? You’re nothing.”
“Nothing?” Mom says calmly.
I’m anything but calm. Now completely removed from my trance, I stand beside my ghost-like mother’s form. I desperately wish I could give her some of my power.
If something happened to Mom while I saved Vince…
But I hadn’t realized that sending Mom to the cottage would be dangerous.
Even so, Mom needed me and I hadn’t been there. What kind of a poor excuse of a daughter am I?
Mom stares at the floor in front of the mantel.
The man shrugs. “Do what you want. We don’t have time for this. Something must have tipped them off.”
A broken figurine on the floor slowly spins in a circle.
Mom focuses on the woman. “If you kill me, you’ll never know where they are.”
The woman wrinkles her nose. “You know nothing.”
The figurine floats an inch off the floor then falls back down.
“Are you willing to take that risk?” Mom asks.
The woman’s lips twist into a cruel smile. “I’ve been known as a risk taker. Might as well live dangerously.”
