Dark Spell

by Danielle Rose

  “I believed in you even when you refused to believe in me,” I whisper, looking at Mamá, thinking about all the times I begged the vampires to give the witches a chance.

  “¿Qué dijiste?” my grandmother asks, but I ignore her. I do not repeat myself, because she knows exactly what I said. Besides, I am not talking to her anymore.

  “I prayed you would see through your prejudice and just accept what I have become, but I see now that you cannot,” I say. “You are toxic. I will not sacrifice myself for you anymore.”

  I understand now that becoming a vampire was never a curse. Vampirism was the antidote for the poison that is the very people who gave me life.

  “I do not regret turning my back on you, Mamá, or leaving this coven. I only regret that it took me this long to see the truth, to remove your mask and unveil the monster residing within your soul.”

  “¡Cállate!” my grandmother yells. She throws out her arms, and I shield my face, prepared to protect myself from her weapon or her magic, whichever she plans to use to silence me.

  Except it never comes.

  Someone screams, and I jerk my head away, ignoring my grandmother. I blink and Hikari is no longer by the altar. She dodges a witch’s attack, effortlessly twirling through the air. The fireball meant to kill her slams into a nearby snow mound, turning the icy frost into a steaming pool.

  Hikari is running, but she is running closer to Mamá’s house and farther from the woods, from where her allies await her. She bypasses several witches, evading all of their attacks. I think she is coming for me, but this is not part of the plan.

  When she and Malik covered the details with me, they never explained this part. Hikari was to be a decoy, so where are the others? Does she plan to simply grab my hand and run? What about Will? Can she carry us both to safety? If we leave without him, returning to experience the witches’ magical torture was for nothing.

  I cannot leave without him. No, I will not leave without him. With my eyes, I try to convey this to Hikari, who is steadily running toward me, but she never meets my gaze.

  She moves so quickly, she looks like she is flying, though I know she is not. She glides through the air like an angel soaring through the heavens, and when she lands on the ground again, her feet plop into the snow quietly. The witches are frantically casting spells and summoning their magic, desperate to stop her pursuit. I wonder if they too believe she is coming for me.

  A knot forms in my gut, because I do not know what she is doing. But I know she is not coming for me. I wait, with bated breath, as my tired senses try to keep up with her swift movements.

  The moment Hikari is by her side, I understand her intentions. I suck in a sharp breath, but I fall silent. Internally, I am screaming. I do not want her to die, because I do not know what her death will mean for him. I am scared, terrified of the cost. But I understand, without being involved in the discussion that made this choice; they need to experiment, to attempt to sever this link by force. To accomplish that, they need a volunteer, knowing they could never ask for one.

  Hikari is by her side before the witches understand what she is doing, for they do not have all the pieces. But I do. I remember the look of fear in Malik’s eyes when he told me Holland informed him of our chat. He knew about the link to Mamá, and he understood the path I was on. I did not have to tell him how dark magic worms its way into a person’s sanity and roots itself there, stealing her rationality.

  I know I asked too much of Holland. Unfortunately, he did not witness the spell, and I know far too little about black magic to save my soul. This was Malik’s only option; I know that. But it does not replace my agony or my fear.

  I have only seconds to make a decision. Either I remain silent or I stop Hikari from committing an irreversible act. I know I must decide quickly, but my brain is tired, my mind fuzzy, my body weak. I am exhausted from magical torture and chilled by the brutal outside wind. My hands are so cold they are becoming stiff, and my mouth is dry, my tongue a useless husk. The part of my brain that must make quick decisions is stalling, the receptors frozen in place.

  I hold Will’s hand, but I do not look at him. I do not want to see his reaction. I do not want to know if he understands what is about to happen. Because Will is Malik’s experiment.

  Hikari reaches for her with pristine accuracy. She flips in the air, landing swiftly behind her. I do not see the moment Hikari’s hands grab on to her skull, and I do not notice them twisting until the witch’s neck snaps.

  But I know this happens, because she is falling.

  A moment of silence passes. The world is so still and moving so slowly, all I can hear is the quick inhalation that we all take in unison. No one expected this, not even me. I believed Malik when he explained the plan, and I never wondered if he might be hiding something that he was certain I could not handle.

  She falls to her knees first. Her limbs stab into the snow, sinking deeply, rooting her body in place like some cruel, disgusting piece of art. Her torso falls next, and she lands at the perfect angle.

  After she falls, her body is illuminated in a patch of moonlight. Her dark-brown hair is shiny under its rays, and her skin looks soft and pale. Only the faint black lines swirling around her exposed skin remind me that she is not the girl I once knew. She was changed. She was evil. They stole her innocence and replaced it with a monster.

  The moment of silence ends, the shock finally settling, and the world erupts into screams. The unfamiliar witches to me must have known her well, because the agony piercing the silent night is surely enough to awaken every sleeping citizen of Darkhaven, even those not privy to what lurks in the night.

  I cannot tear my gaze away from her, and when I finally do, it is because someone is at my side. It is Will. I hear his voice, but his words are muffled. He is shaking me. He cups my face, forcing me to look away, tearing my gaze from her body.

  Only then do I realize it is me who is screaming, mourning the loss of someone supposed to be so pure.

  Tears flood my vision. They stream down my face, turning icy in the bitter night air. Finally, as I blink away my pain, falling numb to the events of tonight, I look into Will’s eyes, and three things become abundantly clear.

  First, Liv is dead. Hikari killed her.

  Second, the crimson irises staring back at me are Will’s.

  Third, I understand now what I must do.

  I tell myself not to be afraid. I remind myself Mamá put herself in this position when she cast that spell. She dabbled in the black arts and condemned her soul to eternal darkness. She did so willingly. She ripped the vampire from my body, leaving a gaping wound in its wake, and never cared about the repercussions or what losing part of myself might do to me.

  I look at my mother, and she stares back at me defiantly. She understands as well. Will’s link to Liv severed the moment she died, and this only means one thing.

  My freedom will only come with Mamá’s demise.

  Chapter Ten

  Magic makes a crackling sound when it is harnessed. The more powerful the witch, the louder the sound. When I listen for it, I think of corn combusting and maracas shaking to my favorite beat.

  And I hear it now. It sounds like firecrackers cast into the darkened sky. Sometimes, it even sparkles like fireworks, illuminating the witch’s soul with bright, shiny, iridescent rays of pure, raw energy.

  Magic surrounds us. The witches are outraged, and they intend to avenge their fallen. I expect nothing less. I committed these very acts of vengeance numerous times in the name of protection. Of course, I was protecting them, avenging them. They only wish to harm me. So it is not quite the same thing.

  Still, the picture of violence is erupting all around me, and I can do nothing to stop it. I cannot even aid my allies. I am far too weak to use force against the witches, and even if I had the strength to fight, I am certain they would outmatch me with the flick of a wrist. I am no match for the elements. At this point, I can barely call upon one myself.

/>   Flashes of light pierce my vision, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping the flames will soon turn to embers, but they never relent. When I worry this act is making me too vulnerable under the circumstances, I partly shield my eyes with my hand and take a peek.

  The witches and their fire magic are unforgiving. I look around, unable to move from where I am rooted. The havoc of war is everywhere. All I see is death and blood, and all I hear are screams and the methodical swish of metal piercing the air. One by one, my enemies fall.

  Still a few feet from my mother, I do not look at her any longer, and she does not look at me. I do not have to peer at her to know this. I no longer feel the pinprick of eyes gazing at my back.

  Instead, I feel a rumbling thunder in my heart, and it flows into my body through my feet. It hammers at the frozen tundra before me and radiates from my soles through my limbs. The sensation makes me shudder as it cascades against my bones. A formidable sound I am all too familiar with, it makes me uncomfortable.

  I know what this sound is, and it is not coming from me, nor is it coming for me.

  In the distance, I watch them approach. My saviors are here to aid their comrades. Dressed in black, they blend in perfectly with the dark, foggy woods beyond my mother’s property. When they emerge from the shadows, where they awaited Hikari’s signal, the silver of blades strapped to their waists glisten in the moonlight. They run in unison, the amber glow of fire magic already spotlighting their approach.

  The moment my gaze falls upon Jasik, my heart swells. My eyes are moist, and I suck in a sharp breath. Regardless of Malik’s promises to me, I still feared I would never see my sire again. Even a day away from him felt like a lifetime of his absence.

  Somehow, even with the vampire severed from the witch, I simply feel stronger when Jasik is near. It is as if his inner strength fortifies my own. Together, I imagine we can become an unstoppable duo. We just need a chance to become one.

  I break my gaze and silently thank the other hunters. Malik knew he needed time to convince Amicia of the importance of saving Will. I thought he did this as a courtesy to me, and perhaps, deep down, that was part of the reason he agreed to assist me. After all, we are family now. If not to help each other, what are families for? I certainly will not be asking the witches this anytime soon.

  But I know Malik separates his emotions from what must be done. No one else is better at replacing pain with righteousness. He would sacrifice his own life if his death needed to happen. That is just the kind of man he is.

  I envision him explaining to Amicia the dire consequences I am in. This spell not only affects me, but it will irrevocably alter every witch who participated in its casting. And that affects Darkhaven. The vampires may reside here in secrecy, living their days by hiding in the woods, but it will not be long before the aftermath of this dark spell reaches even their doorsteps. Are the vampires prepared for that? I guess Amicia did not think so.

  I wonder if Amicia knew the parts of the plan I did not. Did Malik tell her he planned to sacrifice Will as part of his experiment? Did he tell Jasik or Jeremiah? Did everyone but me know the toll this fight will have on my life?

  I tear my vision from the vampires in search of Will. He aids the vampires, enacting his revenge against those who tortured him for the past two days. I watch as his fist thrashes forward, and a witch falls, her body lifeless as she takes her final breath. It echoes in my mind, and I am certain this is only my imagination playing tricks on me. I do not have the heightened senses to truly hear her breathe.

  No longer weakened by the spell that clung to his life force, Will has been rejuvenated. His body is flush with color, his irises are swirling crimson, and his muscles bulge from beneath his clothes.

  Will fights with strength I cannot fathom. He runs at speeds I almost cannot see. It feels as though decades have passed since I last felt that rush of power. The vampire feels so far gone, yet so close I can practically taste her desire for bloodshed. She is angry. She wants vengeance too. And I desperately want to give it to her. I want to succumb to the darkness, shut off my emotions and just live.

  But at the cruelest of times, I am reminded that I am no longer a vampire. Like when my friends fight my battles, and I must simply watch and hope they make it through.

  The night is cold, and a sharp wind blows through the forest, rattling the bare branches. The blast of air is so harsh, it swarms my mind, allowing me to hear nothing else. I suppress a shiver and try to stand. I need to move, to take cover. Unlike the vampires, I cannot withstand the bitter temperatures. My clothes are wet and tattered, and the air burns against my exposed skin.

  I try to trek through the snow, trying to stay low, stay safe, just stay out of the way. But all around me, there is carnage and fireballs and screams. I try not to listen, because I know these sounds will haunt me until the day I die. For that reason alone, I am thankful Mamá’s spell cut my life short. I do not need these visions or these cries for help to follow me for an eternity.

  I am standing, spinning in a circle, unsure of where to go, where to hide. Thankfully, no one notices me. I suppose that is the only perk of this spell. Not considered a threat, I have become invisible. But my enemies are not so lucky.

  The vampires effortlessly evade the witches’ attacks. The sound of metal scraping against bone makes my stomach queasy, so I try not to focus too intently on the chaos surrounding me.

  I turn ’round and ’round, searching for a safe place to wait out the storm, but I succeed in only dizzying myself. I try to take a step forward but trip over something solid, and I shriek as I plummet to the ground. Already icy and stiff, my hands begin to scream at me.

  Something catches my eye, and when I turn my head, I stare into the lifeless eyes of Liv, my best friend. I suck in a sharp, cold gasp. Regardless of what happened, tears prickle at my eyes, and I am grateful for the wave of pain washing over me. My torment over losing her means the spell has not quite clutched my sanity the way it has the others. At least not yet, but I know I do not have much time.

  Liv’s eyes are still open, as if she was just as surprised as I was when Hikari targeted her. Already, her eyes are turning murky in color. Her pupils are cloudy, but her irises are black, not the chocolate-brown color I remember them to be.

  I hate that she died while under the influence of black magic, but it gives me comfort to know her death was quick, painless, and I assume that was Hikari’s gift to me. She does not want me to hate her for killing my friend, but part of me does anyway. The part of me that still believes it is crazy to live like this—in constant fear of yet another fight brewing between the witches and the vampires—wants to go back in time and save Liv, but I am no wizard.

  Liv’s skin is pale, and her lips are blue. She is cold, her skin icy as a fresh layer of snow scatters her body. I brush away what has coated her neck and peer at her skin. The black veins that were encroaching her jawline seem higher now. Is it possible they are still moving? Or do they spread that quickly?

  Guilt washes over me, and I drown in it. I choke out a cry and brush hair from Liv’s face, but I succeed in only smearing something over her skin. With tears in my eyes, I try to wipe it away but only manage to make a bigger mess. Confused, I look at my hands and suck in a sharp breath. My palms are covered in that same black, tarry substance that Will and Mamá hacked out earlier.

  The darkness is inside of me. It is happening. Now.

  I sit back, resting my bottom on the soles of my feet. My butt is cold, and the caked snow on my shoes does not help to alleviate the chill. The snow has seeped through my jeans now, and my shins are freezing. The frigid temperatures drop steadily as night envelops the village, and the breeze tousles my hair.

  Frantically, I try to wipe off the substance by wiping my hands together, but it does no good. It is still there. Quickly, afraid if I wait too long this substance will seep into my pores, I pile snow onto my hands and use it to clean myself, but still, it does not remove the tar.

  Br
eathing heavily, I feel my anxiety rising. My heart is screaming, my mind becoming hazy as blood rushes to my brain. I scrape my palms against my thighs, certain this will remove it. Again, it does not.

  I shriek as I stare at my hands, and the tar moves, taking on a life of its own. Quickly, it spreads, fanning out, wrapping around my hands and shooting up my arms. I feel it everywhere. Without even seeing myself, I know I am cocooned by it. I am one giant blob of black tar, and no one seems to notice.

  How is this happening right now?

  I feel the substance penetrate my flesh, and when I scream again, it floods my mouth. I choke on it. It tastes like rotting flesh. It is gritty and thick, and it swarms within me, buzzing as it fills even the deepest crevices of my body. It is everywhere inside of me, blending seamlessly with me on a cellular level. It takes over, and I have no idea where it ends and I begin.

  I am screaming, but when I search the yard, desperate for Jasik or Will or anyone who actually cares about me, I see only Liv and the countless unfamiliar witches who have died because of me, because of this endless war.

  The witches are angry, throwing out their arms, blasting their elemental magic at me. It slams into my chest, burning straight through to my core.

  I do not look down. I do not want to see the result of the witches’ hatred. But I do not have to look at my wounds to know I feel hollow, like the very center of my body has been fried away.

  I think I am dying. I am light-headed, my vision blurry, and my heartbeat begins to slow. Is this what it feels like to die? I died once, and it was excruciating. The transition from witch to vampire was brutal because my senses were rapid firing. All at once, I could hear, see, taste, smell, feel…everything. But this time, it is different. Cut off from my senses, I am plummeting into oblivion. Never in my life have I been so terrified of darkness.