He places a warm hand on my shoulder. “You need to trust that the power would not have been blessed to you if you weren’t able to handle it.” He doesn’t explain further, instead he simply disappears right before my eyes. I don’t bother twirling around to look for him because I don’t sense him in the house anymore.
I crash onto the couch, allowing my body to sink into the cushions. Everyone’s made one telling sound like such a rare and epic thing. What happens when someone has two? A snort echoes around the living room. People try to capture you, that’s what happens when someone has two tellings. They become valuable, worthy of being kidnapped even when in a different realm.
Time has a different meaning as the shine starts to rear its ugly face and I’m so lost in all of this information and fear and … sadness. Not sadness for me, but for Em. My wonderful, selfless sister. Everything that’s happening to her now is my fault. She doesn’t have powers or parents because of me. Her life would be completely different if those tellings hadn’t been for me.
I don’t know how much time has passed when pounding at the door brings me out of my drunken misery. I hobble my way over and pry the door open. Riley. I’ve only met her once and it wasn’t been pleasant. She basically told me to get the hell out of this settlement and go back to ‘my people.’ Since then, I’ve never so much as crossed paths with her. “What do you want?”
She looks just as terrifying as I remember. Maybe in her younger years she was pretty, but aging has taken its toll. Deep wrinkles circle her eyes, her hair is more gray than blonde, and she has on more make-up than any one person should wear. She shoves her way into my house, not even asking for permission. “The whole clan is out looking for you after that little display in the arena. Have you been here the whole time?”
“Sure, just come on it,” I say sarcastically. “Might as well make yourself at home.” Just as I turn to face her after closing the door, something slams into my side, causing me to fall to the ground.
Eyes wide, I hiss at her. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”
She stalks toward me, the chair she hit me with still raised like a weapon. I thrash my hand out, willing the power within me to strike her down. Lightning forces its way from my palm, but the bolt misses by a mile. The world starts spinning, making it almost impossible to focus.
Her bright red lips curl into a devilish smile. “You’re in a clan of witches, Violet. You need to wrap your head around that. Unfortunately, it’s already too late.” She slams the chair down against the floor, shattering it into shards and splinters of wood. Then, before I realize what’s happening, she stands and lunges at me, burying a sharp piece of wood – nearly a foot long – into my thigh.
I scream through gritted teeth as my muscles tear and the makeshift weapon embeds itself down to my femur. Electricity flows from my fingertips. Sparks fly in each direction, showering the floor with bright flickers. My own power is eager to protect me, and I have every intention of letting it. I try to focus enough to direct the element in Riley’s direction, to do anything to hurt her. But I can’t. I can’t think. I can’t organize my thoughts enough to wield my power, to make it do what I need it to do.
“In Pensatore, we don’t just rely on our magic. You see, we are witches first and foremost. Our Alchemists are unparalleled. They can make a potion for just about everything.” The shine. What the hell had I drunk? “The poison flowing through you has only just started. It will get much worse for you.”
The wood protruding from my thigh is massive. It’s several inches in diameter and at least six inches of its length still juts out from my leg. If I pull it out, the blood loss alone might kill me. Making the decision to leave it in, I drag myself along the floor using my hands and uninjured leg.
She stands behind me, far enough away that I can’t kick out at her, yet close enough to piss me off. The spinning world is spinning faster. I don’t even know if she’s standing there or not because I see dozens of her. Why is she doing this? What have I done to her? Her foot slams down onto my thigh, missing the shank by only an inch or two, forcing an agonizing scream from my lungs. Thick red blood seeps from the wound, getting caught under my leathers as I continue to try to crawl away.
“Not so tough without your powers to rely on, are you?”
I keep my smirk hidden. Does she know that for the first twenty-five years of my life, I never had powers to rely on? I’m scrappy and am fully able to protect myself without that damn power. All I need is something – anything – sharp or heavy.
Actually … “ADAM!” I apply pressure around the leg of the chair, trying to stop the blood from gushing out. If I don’t find something to stop the bleeding soon, Riley tormenting me will be the least of my worries. “ADAM!”
An evil, cringe worthy chuckle overrides my pleas for help. “Your cries are useless. Do you think I’m an idiot? I killed him before I knocked on the door.”
“What the hell do you want with me?” My strength is fading. I’m only able to pull myself across the floor a few inches at a time. The spinning is making me queasy, but I swallow it down. It seemed to work in my favor with Stanley but there’s no time for puking in this situation. Not a victim, I am not a victim. Now in the kitchen, I use the counter to pull myself up. If Adam’s gone and my ability refuses to work …
“Personally, I want to kill you,” she says. “But there are rules against such things. Instead, I plan on handing you over and savoring my reward.”
She grabs a knife from the counter – one that my poisoned self had missed – and points it in my direction, toying with me. She obviously thinks I am easy prey. I may be disabled and slightly disadvantaged but I am not a victim.
“And who are you handing me over to exactly?” I continue hobbling around the kitchen, using the counter to support as much of my weight as I can, searching for something to use against her. One by one I slam open the cabinets, throwing the contents at her face. I don’t know if one hits its mark before I launch the next item towards her. She has yet to show her power, but I force that to the back of my mind. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
Nearly hidden from view, resting in a dark and dusty corner, I spot a broom. My fingers wrap around the handle and I slam it against the stone countertop, snapping it in half. I thrust the sharp end towards her, just as Lincoln taught me, forcing her to take a step back.
Lincoln once told me that if things go badly, you fight. If there’s nothing left, you better know how to use your body as a weapon. That’s exactly what it’s come down to. Any moment now she will make her move. My broom against her knife. My broken powers against whatever her magic is.
Each time I thrust the broomstick towards her she takes a slow step backwards. I expect her to at least give me a freaky smile, but there’s nothing. She doesn’t make the smallest inclination of what her next move will be. She allows me to herd her into the corner of the room. There’s nowhere for her to go except forward, closer to me.
My mind is slowly – so slowly – starting to unfog. Yet when she lashes out, it still catches me off guard. She grabs the end of my broom and pulls it toward her, dragging me along with it. He knife grazes my cheek, drawing blood. I try to summon my power again, but there’s nothing. Not even sparks. I wrap my fingers around her wrist and sharply twist, causing the knife to fall from her grasp.
I slam my forehead into her face; the blood from her nose is warm and wet on my face. She stumbles backward but ignores her injuries otherwise. I follow her gaze to the floor, to where both of our weapons lay.
She lunges for the knife while I limp in the other direction. The journey to the front door is an arduous one considering my current state, but I make it to the threshold and stumble through. I’m out. I made it. But I’m far from safe – she’s right behind me. I try to close the door in an effort to stall her while I seek help. “Jesus!” I squeal as her manic face appears in the small gap between the door and its frame. She snarls like a rabid animal, revealing her blood-stained teeth.
She tugs at the edge of the door in her desperate attempt to pry it back open.
Both of my hands are on the knob, struggling to overpower her. I can’t outrun her, not in my condition; but I might be able to keep her locked inside until someone shows up to help. If I’m lucky she’ll think a locked door means she’s trapped and there’s no way out.
The door inches a little bit closer to me. My pull overpowering her pry. With a jerk, the door slams closed, nearly knocking me on my ass. A violent gag overcomes me as four of her amputated fingers fall onto my porch, landing in a thick puddle of blood.
I throw my injured body at the door. An ominous thud follows a loud crack. If this house collapses on top of me I’m going to be pissed. I take a quick peek around the thick door and there she is – unconscious on my living room floor. How did that happen? I hobble around a small puddle of blood that’s forming around her hand and head, and then kick her leg just to make sure she’s out. I don’t know what’s more embarrassing; losing an eye from a stiletto the way Stanley did, or losing four fingers and getting knocked out by a door.
Trying to decide on what I should do, I stare at her. Finding a guard should be my top priority. What’s the best way to go about this though? I peek out the front door, nothing. Not a single person or guard. I kick Riley’s fingers off the porch and into the dirt. Seems I have two options. Leave the bitch here while I hunt down a mysterious guard and risk her waking up and fleeing while I’m gone or simply take her with me.
She’s small. Maybe if I find something to drag her with?
18
“Two blocks! Two damn blocks and not a single guard in sight? Seriously? Any other day there is one on every street.” The once white sheet wrapped around Riley’s unconscious body is now stained red. Deciding my break is over, I tug hard on the sheet, dragging her dead weight further down the empty street. With each pull I mutter to myself, “Don’t worry, people, there’s nothing creepy going on here. It’s not like I have a piece of chair sticking out of my leg or anything! Not like I’m not dragging a body down the street in a blood-soaked sheet!”
I’m officially having a really bad day.
“What is going?” Lincoln runs around the corner, closing the distance between us. He wraps his hand around my upper arm, forcing me to face him. I scream out in pain as the wood sticking out of my leg smacks against his thigh. Releasing the sheet, I hunch over, trying to breathe through the pain. His eyes travel over my body, landing on my blatant injury and he crouches down to get a better look. “Are you okay?” The annoyance in his voice is gone and replaced with worry. I nod. “What happened?”
“This bitch happened to me.” I kick her body for emphasis which causes me to cry out from the pain radiating up my leg. Gritting my teeth, I push through the pain. “She poisoned me and stabbed me with a broken chair, all the way claiming she wanted to trade me for a reward. I slammed the door on her, which cut off her fingers and … you know what, the details don’t matter. So here you go Commander.” I hand him the corner of the sheet. “Do your damn job.”
Limping away, I call out over my shoulder. “Adam is missing. She said she killed him.” Adam had always been nice to me so I feel bad about whatever situation he’s in, but right now I have my own problems.
Lincoln catches up to me easily. “Violet, wait. Let me help you. We need to get you to the Quarter and get you healed.” He glances up and down the street as though looking for someone.
Damon and a few others run down the street and I can see Emmy’s blonde hair blowing out behind her.
Emmy crashes into me, nearly knocking me off of my feet. “Adam’s dead. He’s … He’s.” She’s crying hard enough that she can barely speak. “We got here as fast as we could Violet.”
In my best attempt at soothing her, I pat her back gently, hoping that she will soon release me. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”
Over her shoulder, I see the two guards that approached with her carrying Riley between them. Damon and Lincoln are talking in such hushed voices that I can’t make out what they are saying. She holds me there, squeezing me relentlessly, as though still trying to reassure herself that I’m really standing here injured but alive.
Lincoln moves to stand behind her, pressing his hand on her upper back and she finally lets me go. “Emmy, go with Damon back to the house. Stay there. Stay inside. Violet and I will be there soon.”
She wipes the tears from her cheeks and straightens her shoulders. She stares at me for the longest time before finally nodding and disappearing into the night with Damon.
Once we are left alone, Lincoln scoops me up in his arms as gently as he can. “Let’s get you all fixed up,” he says.
When I wake up, I’m in my bedroom. Clothes are strewn across the floor and the familiar vanilla scent that Emmy adores fills my nose. Lincoln sits in the chair that I had wedged in the corner of the small space and has his face buried in his hands. “What happened?” I ask, my voice crackling from sleep.
Faster than I can register him even moving, he’s on his feet and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You passed out. I was taking you to the Quarter when the Watcher showed up and healed you here. You were in and out while he worked on your leg and have been asleep ever since.”
I jerk upright in the bed. “And how long was I asleep?”
“Just a day.”
Just a day? Everything that happened hits me at once. The duels. Riley. Adam. “Adam is dead, isn’t he?” Emmy told me he was, but I can’t believe that Riley would do such a thing.
Lincoln nods. “He was strangled. Someone hung him from the lamp post a few streets over from here. Considering who hurt you, we can assume that Riley is responsible for what happened to him as well.”
I swallow through the dryness in my throat. “You really think Riley is physically capable of hanging a fully grown man?” The woman wasn’t even able to wrestle a door from my grip. “She never used her power. Why not?”
“She’s dead.”
“What?” She wasn’t dead. I know she wasn’t. She was alive when I handed her over. Wasn’t she? “What do you mean dead?”
“The guards took her to the castle and locked her up just as they were told to do. The Watcher and Emmy stayed with you after the healing and I went to ensure everything was in order. She was in the cell just as she was supposed to be. The two guards with her were killed and she had a knife in her chest. The door to the cell still locked.”
“Someone murdered the murderer?” And the two innocent men assigned to watch her. “Someone tied up a loose end then. That means that Aetheries is hiding out in the settlement somewhere. That’s the only way they would have known that Riley failed.”
He nods. “You know that the murders were happening before you arrived, Violet. But since you showed up, it’s gotten much worse. It’s clear to Ben and me that you are the primary target. That perhaps the first deaths happened because they were searching for you. If you know anything, you need to tell me.”
I wet my lips, unsure of what to say or how to answer. Emmy’s warning echoes in my head, that telling someone what happened in that duel is dangerous. My gut suggests otherwise. “I don’t think I’m normal, Lincoln.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know as well as I do that I never should have been able to win the duel with that Reaper. I shouldn’t have been able to teleport. I –” I lace my fingers together in my lap. Is telling him the right thing to do? “I healed myself in that duel, Lincoln.”
His head cocks to the side. “What do you mean?”
I tuck my legs under me, crossing my ankles. “I mean I healed myself. My arm was broken and then it just snapped back into place. All the scratches and bruises were there one minute then gone the next.”
Lincoln stands and starts to pace. “There’s something going on with me,” I continue. “I don’t know what it is, but apparently Aetheries does and they want me because of it. And they need me alive.”
“Healers don’t just heal
themselves, Violet. That’s not how their power works.”
“I’m fully aware of that!” Emmy was the one that explained that power to me the same night she met Ivy.
“It’s not just that.” He stops pacing and plants his fists on his hips. “No one has more than one power from a clan. I’m a hybrid which is why I have two, but they are separate, one power from each.” Not knowing how to respond, I simply shrug. “I’ll visit the Sages, maybe they will know something.”
Sages are the storykeepers and teachers and story tellers, at least from what Emmy told me. It’s not until this moment that I realize just how much Emmy has immersed herself in this realm. I’ve refused to do that. Granted, Lincoln’s training has always kept me too busy, but I could have made time. I should have made time.
“The decision has been made, Violet,” he says while sitting back on the foot of the bed. “You’re going to war with us.”
Enemy Of My Enemy (Price Of Power Book 1) Page 20