Run (Caged Trilogy Book 1)

by H G Lynch

  Naomi was by far the kindest of the witches who’d adopted me, but she could be just as cruel as Olivia when it suited her. She gave me fond smile that was almost sisterly, as she wound Dominic’s curls around her finger. “Sarah’s just a little naïve. I’m sure your boyfriend will be just heartbroken when he finds out you’re gone.”

  Panic rushed up inside me, my gaze darting from Sarah, to Olivia, to Naomi. Dominic had fallen silent under Naomi’s touch, his eyes wide and blank, lips parted. I glanced at Naomi’s hand on his head. I’d forgotten she could do that, make a person see something that wasn’t there just by touching them. She could put them in a dream or a nightmare, and it would feel utterly real until the second she took her fingers away.

  I knew because she’d done it to me once or twice. Dreams mostly, to keep me docile, but a nightmare occasionally, at Olivia’s command. It was Naomi’s first innate power, and her strongest. I hoped she was putting Dominic in a dream and not a nightmare.

  She saw my look, and winked at me. “Don’t worry, he’s enjoying this. You should see some of the things he thinks about doing with you.” She clucked her tongue, and I might have blushed under different circumstances.

  Sarah made a rough sound, glaring at Naomi, but Naomi ignored her. Someone put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder and snorted. Ironic silver nail polish glittered on the nails of the hand, and Sarah moved aside to reveal the final Leyland sister.

  Taller and meaner than Naomi, but not as slender and cold as Olivia, and not as pretty as either of them, Gwen was the middle sister in every way, from age to height to the strength of her power—except her cruelty. She was the cruellest of them all. Her black hair was knotted in a thick plait over one shoulder, and her hazel eyes stared mockingly down at me. Gwen had always seemed to hate me in a more personal way than Olivia or Naomi. She’d always taken pleasure in my pain, where Olivia had only thought it was necessary to get what she wanted from me, and Naomi had found it distasteful to punish a child so helpless. Olivia was about mental pain. Gwen was the one who liked the birch cane…and fists.

  “Don’t lie to the girl, Naomi,” Gwen sneered. “After we kill the wolves, Matilda’s little mutt will probably be humping Sarah here by the end of the week. Men are such animals, don’t you think?”

  She laughed harshly, and Sarah’s grin grew wider over pointed teeth. My stomach spasmed, and I gagged. I was determined not to throw up again, but I was so scared and so angry, I was shaking with it. If I’d been a werewolf, I’d have Changed, but I wasn’t. I was just a pathetic little witch trying not to get sucked under by her Dark side.

  I needed my Light side. I needed to tap into it. So I closed my eyes, and desperately grabbed for the energy around me. The energy of the trees, the earth, and the plants, of the sky, the stars, and the moon; I could feel it all, gathering and hovering just above my skin. I could feel my Light magic rising up, swelling under the Dark, breaking through to reach out to that soothing, powerful energy.

  “Uh-uh-uh. Not this time, Matilda,” Olivia said, stepping toward me.

  I flinched back, and then gasped in pain as the motion sent jolts of white-hot agony searing from my cracked rib. Faintly, Dominic moaned. Whether in pain or pleasure from whatever nasty dream Naomi was using to keep him docile, I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t look over to check. I kept my eyes on Olivia as she stalked closer to me.

  She loomed over me, as tall, beautiful, and cold as an ice queen. Then she put a hand on my head, lightly, as if to stroke my hair soothingly. A pounding, sharp pain filled my head, and my vision went white. If I screamed, I couldn’t hear the sound of it over the roaring in my ears. Another hand fell on my shoulder, and another on my back, and the pain in my head tripled. It made my cracked rib feel like a little bruise. It felt as if my skull was going to crack open from the pressure inside. The pain ripped through my whole body, as if it was stripping away my skin.

  Then it stopped, and the hands lifted off me. My vision was black, and I felt empty and raw—as if I was missing something vital. There was still a roaring in my ears, high-pitched and crackling, and it took me a long moment to realise it was coming from me. I was still screaming, and I couldn’t seem to stop until I ran out of breath and the noise choked off into harsh sobs that scraped my torn throat. Slowly, I opened my eyes, and all I saw was black and brown, blurring in front of my eyes. I blinked a few times, tears streaming down my face, and the black and brown smears resolved into dirt. I was lying down, with my cheek pressed to the ground.

  Gasping, I tried to sit up, but my muscles were shaking so badly that my arms buckled under me, and I nearly ended up with another mouthful of dirt. I could feel the dirt sticking to my cheek, clinging to the wetness of my tears, and taste it in my mouth. Turning my head to the side, I spat, but it didn’t help. A fresh wave of blood coated my tongue, and I coughed it up, shredding my burning throat even more. Red splashed onto the brown of the dirt as I coughed, drops splattering my white, white hands. I felt dizzy.

  “What… what did you… do to me?” I rasped. My sides heaved, and my cracked rib protested, but after the blinding agony of whatever they’d done to me, it suddenly didn’t feel quite so bad. My vision blurred again, dizziness swamping me, and I closed my eyes, so I could focus on not puking again.

  Olivia answered me, but her voice sounded slow and echoing in my ears. I wondered distantly if I had some sort of brain damage.

  “We just put a Debilitas Spell on you to temporarily paralyse your powers. Couldn’t have you trying to blow us up before we get you back home,” she said. “And don’t worry about your little wolf friend over there. We’re taking him with us…to keep you company, I suppose.”

  I groaned, a brief thought passing through my mind. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d been wearing my Charm. But I’d thrown my Charm at Spencer when he’d tried to make me hate him. He probably still had it. I never should have taken it off. God, Spencer. A spike of terror ran through me and clamped around my chest. Before we get you back home. The words bounced around my head, making me want to scream again.

  I had sworn that I'd kill myself before I let the witches take me back, and the idea flashed across my mind quick and sharp as a razor. I could do it. I could attack Sarah and her wolf instincts would kick in, and the odds were she’d rip me apart, no matter what Olivia wanted. I could pick up a jagged rock from the ground and cut my wrists.

  But I couldn’t do any of that. I couldn’t kill myself, no matter what I’d sworn, because the witches had Dominic too. I couldn’t leave him alone. He’d promised me nobody would hurt me, and he’d kept that promise as best he could. Now it was my turn to protect him and keep him from getting hurt as best as I could.

  Together, we’d get through this, and we’d get out of it.

  The time for running was over.

  It was time to fight.