by Cece Rose
As I close my eyes for another glimpse, my foot catches on something, sending me stumbling. A hand grabs my wrist, yanking me back up just before I hit the ground.
“Watch where you step, Harlow. You almost got bested by a tree root,” Kier jibes as he releases his grip.
My eyebrows raise at the use of my last name. “Harlow?” I echo.
He smirks at me before answering, “I’ve decided that whoever named you Kayla gave you too sweet a name.”
“My dad. My dad named me.” I feel a stabbing pain in my chest at the thought of him. A sad smile crosses my face at a memory of him telling me why he called me Kayla. The first girl he ever liked as a kid was called Mackayla. He met her at seven years old, but she died in an accident when they were thirteen. He said he’d always thought Mackayla was the name of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and when I was born, he decided that was now me. My mum had vetoed Mackayla, so he’d compromised for Kayla instead, although he always wrote Mackayla on his letters to me. I blink furiously, trying to prevent the tears from escaping my eyes.
Although it’s been years since he passed, you don’t just get over the sudden loss of a parent like you sometimes see in books or movies. In real life you can’t gloss over those emotions, and they stick with you forever. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, you only get used to dealing with them.
“Are you okay?” Kier pries, his concern evident as he watches me wipe a few stray tears from my face. “If you want, I can go back to calling you Kayla. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I shake my head. “I like Harlow. My dad picked my first name, and he gave me his last. So, either way, whichever you call me it’s still what he’s given to me.”
“That’s a great way of thinking about it... Harlow,” he teases with a light nudge to my arm. “Although, I’m starting to wonder about your directional skills. Where is this house you were so adamant in leading me to?” he asks, gesturing around. We walk out of the trees and face a grass-covered clearing. Both of us come to a halt at the edge of the tree line.
With a quick blink of my eyes, I check my connection to Elias. Frowning as I reopen them, I look around. “It should be right here,” I announce. I gaze around with my actual eyesight, blinking whenever I think I can get away with it to see the silver rope in my head. “This doesn't make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. Of course, he shielded the property. Now we just need to find out if he’s only hidden it from sight, or if there’s something preventing us from getting in without tipping off everyone inside that we’re here.” Kier frowns, stepping closer.
“Careful!” I grab his arm, holding him back. He might not be able to see the house, but when I close my eyes, I can. With how close we are, for all we know, we could have already tripped an alarm of some kind. Snapping my eyes shut, I look through Elias' and see he hasn't moved. Letting out a breath, I turn to Kier. “I don't think they know we're here, but we should be careful and remain alert. There could be any number of boundary spells.”
“I know. I'm checking for them now,” he grumbles, turning back to me. I notice his eyes are pale and realise he's using his second sight to search for enchantments.
“Anything?” I prompt, impatient and ready to know what we're up against.
“Just a cloaking spell by all appearances. A damn good one, though. If you didn't know this place was here, you'd never find it. I think we should be okay to move forward. Once we've crossed the inner boundary, we should be able to see the property,” he informs me, already pulling free of my hold on his arm and walking ahead. Without much choice, I follow after him.
I feel the barrier before I see the house with my own eyes, a wash of cold rushing over me, and then everything that was hidden reveals itself. The house is beautiful, there’s no other way to describe it. A huge manor-style property that looks like it’s been kept in perfect condition, despite the fact it’s easily over a hundred years old.
“It’s gorgeous,” I breathe in a low voice.
“It is,” Kier agrees. “Too bad it’s likely about to get some damages.”
I turn to him, seeing an almost sardonic-looking grin on his face. He clearly isn’t that broken up over the potential damages to the house.
“Come on, it’s this way.” I quietly lead him towards a back-door entryway. A whispered spell breaks the lock, and we’re in. We creep through the kitchen, looking around for signs of people, but lucky for us, the room is deserted. We head for the far door, from there it’s just down the corridor, around the corner, and down another long corridor. We can do this.
Heavy footsteps in the hall make me freeze in the doorway. Kier also comes to a halt; he probably heard the noise before I did. After waiting for the steps to fade, I lean around the doorframe, peeking out. I’m comforted by the fact that even if someone is there, they can’t see me looking out anyway. But invisible or not, it’s best to avoid any possible contact, so I remain cautious.
With no one in sight, I gesture for Kier to follow me as I lead the way to the library where his father is located. He creeps behind with such practiced silence it sends a shiver down my spine. I try to make as little noise as possible, but I’m nowhere near as quiet as he is. I can only hope his spell hiding us from sight will be enough to give us an advantage.
We reach the library, and I’m thankful that the door has been left open. We share a nervous glance, and we move into the room, using stealth to try to creep unnoticed to where I sense Elias. As we turn past a bookshelf, we finally see him.
He stands facing the fireplace, a glass of what I can only hope is red wine in his hand. He takes a big swig of his drink, before setting it down on the mantlepiece. He turns in our direction, and I feel my heart drop when it seems as if he’s looking right at us.
“Hello, Kier,” he greets his son, the man who came here with the intention of killing him. He appears both unsurprised and unbothered by Kier’s arrival.
“How the hell can he see us? He’s not supposed to be able to see us,” I mutter under my breath, but as I’m in a room with vampire hybrids, both of their gazes dart to me.
“Hannah?” Elias questions, looking shocked at my appearance at least. It takes me a beat to remember I gave him the fake name when we met in The Tomb. He looks back at Kier. “I was expecting you, but your accomplice is most unexpected. No matter, one more body at my feet makes no difference to me.”
Before Kier can form a response, a gust of power sends us both flying back into a bookcase. Pain radiates from my back, but I ignore it as I pull myself back onto my feet. I’ve just straightened up when I notice Kier shooting a bolt of lightning-like magic at his father.
Without waiting to see if it hits its mark, I dart towards the door to ensure no one interrupts them. Kier has enough on his hands fighting his father alone, much less everyone else in the building if they join in. I peek down the corridor, breathing out a sigh of relief when I don’t see anyone coming.
“HARLOW!” Kier yells.
I dart to the right, feeling something scratch against my left side. I whirl around, but Kier has already turned back to face his father, though Elias watches me instead. Using his father’s distraction to his advantage, Kier shoots off more lightning bolts. Without missing a step, Elias dodges or deflects the magic sent his way with little effort, then throws a spell in my direction. I jump to the side to try and avoid it, but the white charm is too big to avoid. The magic rushes over me, trapping me in a bubble. I blink in surprise. He trapped me in what is unmistakably a protection sphere.
What the hell?
With me trapped in the bubble, the two of them carry on with their fight. Streaks of lightning and bright flashes of colour fly around as they exchange and deflect attacks.
Not wanting to remain helpless, I push my hands against the bubble, feeling the current of Elias' magic running through it. Shuddering at just how dark and twisted it feels, I keep my hands against the barrier, feeding my own magic into it. Without anythin
g restricting my magic, I should be able to do this. I take a deep breath in and push my magic out into the bubble at full force. The sphere around me shatters much quicker than I expect, and I stumble, barely able to keep myself from falling over. Glancing at the surrounding chaos, my eyes widen, and I cringe reflexively as I witness Kier take a direct hit to the chest. Elias strides closer to his son, while Kier sways on his feet.
Desperate to help even though my knowledge of attack magic is limited at best, I use the one curse I know will burn a vampire into thinking better of taking a bite out of anyone. “Imperium cutis ardeat!” I yell, hurling my magic towards Elias. The fire magic alights, burning through the air until it hits its intended target.
Elias roars in pain when it hits, but he regains his composure much quicker than the vampire in The Tomb had. He murmurs something and the flames on him go out, but the ones still swirling in the air around him remain. He backs away from the fire in shock, and I notice Kier is retreating too.
Not wanting Elias to get away, and with Kier looking as if he's still in pain or shock or something from Elias' last hit, I use the curse again, throwing my hands out in Elias’ direction as I all but scream the curse out.
The flames spiral out of control, missing their destination and setting fire to bookcase. But the magical inferno doesn't cease there, instead it continues spreading, dancing through the air, not needing any substance to travel. I back away from the flames, my nervousness skyrocketing as I watch them grow.
Maybe a witch cursed with bad luck shouldn't use fire magic...
I feel the first licks of fire against my skin and scream as they begin to engulf me. I shriek for so long with such force that soon my throat can’t even produce an audible sound anymore. Trying to will the fire away from myself, I push back with my magic. That only seems to fuel the fire further, and I collapse, falling to my knees as the flames curl around me in a twisted embrace. A loud crash draws my attention, and with tears burning in my eyes, I watch Elias vanish from sight. An audible curse comes from Kier’s direction before he turns towards me and notices my magic attacking me too.
Without hesitation, he rushes through the flames to get to me. Despite the fire still burning all over my skin, the pain seems almost muted in some places now. He grabs my arm, dragging me up and holding me close to himself. Not wanting him to burn along with me, I try to pull away from him, but my attempts are futile and only cause him to tighten his grip.
I feel Kier's magic roll over me and the room around us vanishes as he portals us out of there, using himself as the portal, rather than casting one for us to cross through. The complex magic would shock me more if I wasn't in such agonising pain. We're surrounded by blue, and I wonder where he has taken us.
“You need to let me pull you with me,” Kier shouts. I cringe from the loud noise. Didn't we already leave? “Kayla, let go of your hold on where we were, or we'll both be trapped in the between. Let go!” he yells again.
Wishing he'd stop shouting, I try and comply with his demand. My eyes start to roll back when another pulse of his magic rushes through me, and then my stomach lurches as he pulls us through the rest of the way.
Twenty
A Few Too Many
Burning, scorching fire surrounds me. The flames lick at my skin in desperation, seeking my destruction…
Falling to my hands and knees on the floor, I realise that I’m screaming as I hit the ground. My eyes are squeezed shut in agony, and my skin feels like it's burning away. A memory flickers, a younger me touching the tray in the oven and crying out in pain. It's like that's happening again, but with much more intensity, and all over my body. Everything stings. Everything hurts. Everything burns.
“Breathe, Harlow. The fire has gone out, just breathe.” I feel a hand on my back, cold and soothing as it rubs across my bare skin. I lean into his touch, seeking out its cooling feel, and yet pained sounds still escape my lips. Everywhere else still feels like it’s burning, and it’s pure torture. “It's okay. I'm making it better, just breathe. Try to keep calm. I need you to take a deep breath, because this is going to hurt like hell for a second, but then the pain will go away. You need to accept the pain. If you try and throw the magic off, it will kill you.” He pauses, allowing me a moment to contemplate his words as I stop screaming and take a few haggard breaths. “Do you understand me, Harlow?”
I try to force myself to nod, but everything feels wrong. Some parts of me burn and hurt, some parts of me feel cool from his touch, and other parts of me... I can't feel a damn thing. My mind struggles to process the contradiction of both the onslaught of sensations and the lack of. It's utterly consuming.
“Kayla?” he prompts, and I manage to nod again, flattening my hands against the floor and bracing myself. I can do this. I have to do this. There's no other—
What feels like an electrifying shock zapping all over my skin cuts off my thoughts. A wash of pain surges over me, so intense I think I may combust, and I begin to struggle under its attempts to drown me.
“Let it happen, Harlow,” a voice demands, breaking through my haze and confusion from the pain. I remember Kier telling me to accept the agony, but every fibre of my being wants to fight it off, to push back against it. Somehow, I force myself to suck in a deep breath, trusting in him as I stop fighting the pain. As soon as I do, the pain dulls, leaving nothing but a tingling sensation dancing over my skin. I blink open my eyes and turn to look at Kier.
“What the hell was that?” I croak out.
“I needed to fix your damaged nerve endings before fully healing you. The split second of pain was the moment those nerves were fixed, but I hadn't yet fixed the rest of you,” he explains. I open my mouth to ask something else, but he waves me off. “Let me get you some water and a blanket or something first,” he says, gesturing in my direction, though he avoids looking at me.
I glance down at myself, realising the burned remains of my clothes don't leave much to the imagination, especially on the upper half of my body. The holes in my shirt do allow me to notice my skin appears burn free, smooth and unblemished despite this whole ordeal. Kier possesses a healing ability stronger than any I’ve ever witnessed, and I can't help but wonder if he ever considered a career in healing.
He’s quick to return with a blanket and water. I gulp down the water greedily, even before reaching for the blanket; my modesty forgotten with how thirsty I am. After placing the glass onto a small, black coffee table beside me, I take the blanket from Kier, wrapping it around my shoulders before forcing myself to stand. My legs feel unstable beneath me as I move, so I quickly take a seat on a dark brown leather sofa. I sink into the leather and breathe in the smell of it, feeling my muscles begin to relax a little.
“Where are we?” I ask, feeling curious after looking around a few minutes in silence. I notice that he seems fine, no damage other than messed up hair and a slightly burnt shirt.
“My house,” he answers. “I actually only live about a twenty-minute walk from you.”
“What? Really?” I question in surprise. He nods, moving and taking a seat on the other side of the sofa. I swivel around and kick off my boots that, by some miracle, escaped with only minor burns marks. Getting comfortable, I bring my feet up onto the sofa and cross my legs. My boots will probably be the single salvageable item from this outfit. “I'm sure I would remember seeing you around more if you live that close.”
“I tend to drive or use portals to get around, so that doesn’t leave much opportunity for us to run into each other. If I ever want to go for a walk, I open a portal to Devon or the Lake District or something and go there. After an afternoon there, then walking around in London, you realise the air just isn't the same. I would move, but I inherited my mother's family home, so I can't exactly relocate. Sometimes having magic has its advantages, and sometimes it has its annoyances, as I'm sure you know.”
He smiles at me, but I can see the frustration in his eyes. He's annoyed at me, and he’s probably right to be. I ru
ined everything, not just once, but twice, and now I'm sitting here making small talk. Goddess, he must hate me, but he's just too much of a nice guy to just tell me to leave.
“I should probably get going,” I mumble, moving to stand.
He moves quicker than I can blink, suddenly appearing by my side and pushing down on my shoulder to keep me sitting. “Don't go just yet. You still need to rest for a minute. Let me get us both a drink. I think I can find you something to wear other than a blanket.”
“Okay,” I reply, all too happy to remain sitting for a while longer. He may have physically healed me, but I still feel weak and shaken from the trauma. The fact I got burnt from my own messed up magic stings extra hard too. He disappears from the room, and I hear his footsteps pounding up a set of stairs, making no effort to be quiet.
Noticing that my hands are trembling, I hide them under the blanket out of sight. I can't believe that my own magic came close to killing me today. All because of some stupid bad luck curse I have no control over. Whichever ancestor of mine pissed someone off this royally to curse not just them, but our entire family line, could burn in hell.
What did someone do that deserved this? How far back does this curse go? The way Silvia talked about it makes me think that it goes pretty far back, but it's impossible for me to know just how far reaching this thing is.
“This was all I could find that might fit, I'm sorry,” Kier tells me, as he approaches with something black in his hands.
I reach out, grateful for anything to cover myself, and hold it out in front of myself to inspect. “I assume this isn’t yours,” I comment, pressing my lips together to refrain from laughing at the expression on his face.