Blood Curse (DarkWorld: A Soul Tracker Novel Book 3)

by T. G. Ayer

  This could not possibly be the work of our Stephanie.

  I also found a freshly-brewed pot of coffee and poured a cup, while glancing covertly at the baked goods and wondering if they were magical death muffins.

  Footsteps echoed along the hall and Silvanya entered, looking rested and much calmer than a few hours ago. She wore a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a light knitted jumper—both courtesy of my closet seeing as Stephanie would have been too short to have anything to fit the slim, tall elf.

  Her silvery hair though, was half hidden by a multi-colored, knitted hat—this one actually belonging to Steph—a few random tendrils escaping and framing her face.

  Despite the relaxed attired, Silvanya still looked pretty much the regal princess that she was.

  The princess now frowned as she glanced at the untouched muffins. “Are you not hungry?” she leaned over and grabbed a muffin, and began peeling back the blue polka-dotted paper.

  How did I not know we owned such things as blue-polka-dotted paper cups?

  Slightly relieved—although I wouldn’t admit it if anyone asked—I reached for a muffin, wondering again when I’d turned into a pitiful lump of paranoia.

  “Did you make these?” I asked as she popped a chunk of fluffy sponge into her mouth.

  She nodded, silvery locks swaying. “We don’t sleep much, so I had to find something to do. What bad manners I have,” she spoke through her mouthful and gave me a sheepish smile. Swallowing hard, she wiped crumbs off her mouth and laughed. “Back home the ingredients are . . . slightly different.”

  We settled into a chat about baking ingredients, which for some strange reason led into a conversation on the difference between politics and sexism in the EarthWorld vs Kil’rith.

  I was struggling to remain focused on the conversation, and a few minutes in, I got to my feet and smiled apologetically. “I’m really sorry I’m a little distracted. I’m expecting a message.”

  Slipping my phone from my jeans pocket I skimmed Natasha’s texted response.

  My place in twenty. We go together.

  She certainly wasn’t giving me much of a choice. The only consolation was she already knew about the poltergeist. I tucked my phone back into my pocked and lifted my gaze to meet Silvanya’s.

  I gave her a sympathetic smile, probably not enough but it was all I could offer her at this point. “I know the waiting is hard, but Elise will make a move soon. She’s likely pissed at losing you, and she’s not one to make decisions out of passion.”

  “Yes, she is a cold-hearted one.” Silvanya’s voice dripped ice, no doubt far colder than Elise Garner’s frigid heart.

  “Which would work in our favor. Cold-hearted means planned and deliberate. Which also means predictable.”

  Silvanya leaned against the kitchen counter behind her and wrapped her long arms around her body, as if trying to give herself the comfort she desperately needed. “I apologize if I seem . . . ungrateful. I’m worried about my father. About what she will do to him when she finally makes her move.”

  She pushed away from the counter and began to scrape crumbs off the table, letting them fall into the palm of her hand. Then she straightened. “Thank you for taking the time to reassure me. I hope I haven’t kept you too long.”

  We said our goodbyes and I headed out, leaving her at the kitchen sink, staring out the window with her cupped palm still filled with muffin crumbs.

  Chapter 31

  I jumped straight to Natasha’s place, arriving on her porch just as she walked out of her door.

  Today her expression was sombre and though I wanted to ask her what was up, we both had other things to think of.

  She straightened her spine and met my eyes. “I don’t know how smart this is . . . meeting him so far away from home turf.”

  I pursed my lips. “Yeah, but we don’t really have much choice though.”

  She gave me a dirty look.

  “I don’t have much choice, you know. This is my last resort. Otherwise, you are going to have to upgrade from witch to necromancer so that I may survive this.”

  Natasha’s lip curled and she gave a delicate shudder. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  I hid a smile and patted my satchel where the printed copies of the Chinese script lay. “Right, then let’s get going. The sooner we get there the sooner we get it done.” I gave Natasha my elbow. “Now, where are we going?”

  Natasha gave me the location and I did a quick search on my phone’s GPS for coordinates and a feel for the place. A little hard with miles and miles of sand.

  Still, I projected first, arriving at the edge of the Sahara Desert where the sand bled across into Morocco. A quick confirmation of location was all it took to identify a presence that made my stomach turn.

  I returned to my body and completed a good reproduction of Natasha’s shudder. “I’ve said it before, and I will say it again . . . sorcerers make me sick to my stomach.”

  Natasha shook her head in warning. “What if he hears you?”

  “How the hell would he hear me from all the across the world?”

  Natasha sighed. “You were near enough to him, Mel. He could very easily have locked onto your essence and traveled back with you.”

  “Shit. I didn’t think of that.” I was surprised that she’d suggested the possibility. Especially since I’d always believed my presence in the ether, and while projecting, was undetectable.

  Until my most recent trip to find Samuel, of course.

  I heaved a sigh and straightened my shoulders, steeling myself for the possibility of failure before we’d been begun. “It is what it is. If he heard, I’ll beg for forgiveness.”

  Natasha squeezed my arm and I teleported us to the Sahara.

  We arrived under an angry sun, and onto sand that burned right through the bottoms of our shoes. It took only a moment to find the sorcerer, who until now still remained nameless.

  He stood on the summit of a sand dune to our left about fifty yards away, watching us. A wide-brimmed Texan hat cast convenient shadows, obscuring his features.

  We began to walk along the dunes, scrambling to get to the ridge so it would be easier to get to him.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Huh?” asked Natasha, a little distracted as she sank into the sand and had to dig her foot out before she stepped up beside me.

  I kept my eyes focused on him. “What’s his name,” I asked out of the side of my mouth.

  “Oh. Right,” she looked up at the sorcerer. “His name is Saito.”

  “Just Saito?” I eyed her.

  “Just Saito,” she said softly. “There is power in a name. He believes his identity gives him power so he keeps that name to himself.”

  “Puts him at an unfair advantage, wouldn’t you say?”

  Natasha snorted. “He owes me. And he doesn’t know who you are.”

  “Okay, then,” I said softly and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

  But the heat was unbearable.

  Wait a second.

  I was a teleporter for crying out loud.

  “Maybe I should just jump us there.”

  “No,” Natasha barked the word out, unusually harsh for her normally calm and serene demeanor.

  “Why not?” I was running out of breath, the heat clawing its way into my lungs while the sun scorched my skin and baked the top of my head.

  “Because you don’t want to expose the essence of your power to him. Most sorcerers have perfected the art of using the powers of other mages to boost their own.”

  I understood what she meant. Sorcerers fed off the powers of others, whether they were mages or supernaturals. I had to hope that Saito was not going to suck me dry before I got the chance to ask for the protection spells. I had it bad enough with my poltergeist who was again strangely reluctant to make his presence known.

  The trek to the sorcerer was inelegant, sweaty, and damned tiring. By the time we reached within ten feet of him, both Natasha and
I were exhausted, sweat-drenched clothing sticking to our bodies, while he remained calm and dry as if cocooned in a bubble of cool air.

  Which he very probably was.

  I hid my disgust and straightened in front of him.

  His lips curled into an interesting smile as he scanned the two of us, head to toe then back up her again. His slim amber eyes sparkled, amused at our exertions, at our red-faces, and wet brows.

  “I apologize for the difficulty of this trip, and the inconvenient location,” he waved a hand around him, “In any other situation I might be amused.” His expression said otherwise.

  He moved aside, and I caught a glimpse of the dunes beyond him. My eyes widened at the sight of the undulating landscape—golden sands shimmering with heat, littered with hundreds of bread-loaf shaped rock formations.

  I hid my surprise—and amazement as I’d never seen anything like it in my life—and met the sorcerer’s gaze.

  “Thank you for meeting us.” My voice faded in the heat of the heated air.

  His fiery eyes shuttered as he looked from me to Natasha, a frown creasing his forehead. “I am here only because I owe the Witch a favor.” He rolled his shoulders and straightened, placing his hands behind his back. He turned his head slowly to look at my face, the disdain clear in his eyes. “What is it that you want?”

  I hesitated, then withdrew the envelope of printouts. I handed it over to the sorcerer. “I need to create the magic that uses these glyphs.”

  He took the envelope and slid a finger beneath the flap. He tipped the printouts onto his palm and then flicked through the stack, his face an inscrutable mask. As last, he slipped them back into the envelope and looked up at me.

  “What makes you think I will have anything to do with this type of magic?” He let go of the envelope and put his hands back behind him. The envelope floated in the air in front of him.

  Okay, so he liked showmanship.

  I glanced at Natasha, but I didn’t want her to get involved. Yes, she’d called in a favor for me, but the request—and the responsibility attached to it—was mine alone.

  I took a deep breath and said, “I was told that you would have the kind of power required to imbue these symbols with the magic I need.”

  Saito lifted a brow. “This is strong magic. I don’t believe you know what you are talking about.”

  He shifted to stare off over my shoulder into the distance, dismissing me with a mere flick of his eyelids. Inhaling slowly, I said, “The person who sent me said specifically that you would have the power to help me.”

  He shrugged. “Rather presumptuous of him don’t you think?” Saito shifted to face us again, his eyes narrowing. “I am losing my patience. Is this why you brought me here, witch?” he gave Natasha a sneering glare, “to be manipulated by a girl whose life-force is fading. Why would you want me to waste my time on her?”

  I shook my head, clearing my throat to draw his attention back to me. “That’s the very reason I’m here. I was told I needed to find the right sorcerer who’d be able to help me to make the wards work.”

  Saito shrugged again, his lack of interest clear. “You have wasted my time.”

  As he turned to leave, I took two steps toward him and tried to grab a hold of his arm. I’d been so upset—or too tired or drained—that I hadn’t sensed the field of magic that surrounded him.

  As I went flying into the air, I cursed my carelessness. I hit the dunes and was grateful that, though hard-packed, the desert sand had absorbed the impact and cushioned my impact.

  I scrambled to my feet and glanced over at Saito. Had I blinked, I would have missed the subtle rising of his forefinger, like a conductor commanding an orchestra.

  I frowned and glanced over at Natasha who was staring at the sorcerer, her expression filled with suspicion.

  The atmosphere grew heavy, and the sound rumbled around us as if the air itself was about to come alive.

  “Shit,” yelled Natasha. She leaned over and grabbed hold of my arm. “Run,” she screamed, tugging me along as she ran pell-mell down the side of the dune in the direction of the rock-breadloaf forest.

  “What’s going on?” I shouted as she dashed for the nearest of the rock formations.

  “Get up there,” her voice reached out and slapped me with its urgency—and with the fear filling every syllable—giving my feet a boost of both determination and magic.

  I ran, my feet skidding, sinking deeper as the sand began undulating beneath my shoes. Holes appear on the dunes, sand dripping into unseen depths.

  I no longer cared that the sun burned my skin, that my clothes were soaked, that my head burned as if it were aflame.

  No.

  Not one of those things were as important as the fact that the very ground beneath my feet was coming apart and would soon swallow me whole if I didn’t get my sorry ass up onto the nearest bread-loaf rock.

  Scrambling, I threw myself forward, my body flying in an arc. My fingers grazed the rough surface of the rock and a sharp stabbing pain shot through two fingernails.

  Just great.

  Not that I was a manicure type of girl. It just hurt like a bitch.

  I was tempted to teleport to the top of the nearest rock, but Natasha’s warning rang in my head.

  So I was forced to use mere human ability, which was second rate at best.

  I jumped again, trying to grab hold of a narrow ledge of stone jutting out near the top of the rock.

  I would have made it.

  Had it not been for the rope wrapped around my ankle.

  I kicked my foot trying to free myself of the rope, but it only grew tighter. I held on, desperately clinging to the rock and craned my neck to look over my shoulder at the rope.

  Rope?

  Not a rope.

  A monster.

  Chapter 32

  The creature that held me in its grip was as far from a rope as was possible.

  A thick, black and very hairy leg curled around my ankle, and I shuddered, forcing myself to focus on climbing despite the creature holding on me.

  The more I pulled, the stronger the monster’s grip became and I struggled to hold onto the rock, bloodied fingernails making the surface slick.

  “Mel?” Natasha yelled, her voice frantic. I turned my head to face her, suddenly afraid that she may also be under attack.

  Thankfully, the creature had left her alone, and she was currently kneeling so far out on the edge of her rock that I half expected her to fall any second.

  She glared at the undulating sand below me, and as I turned my attention to the movement, the golden grains revealed a momentary glimpse of a great glossy eyeball, then hid the creature from view.

  Glancing back at Natasha, and at the look of determination twisting her features, I got a very, very bad feeling.

  When she scrambled to her feet I yelled, “No. Don’t. I’ll be fine.”

  Natasha paused, staring from me to the thing wrapped around my leg, and then to Saito. “What the hell is this for?” she screamed at him. “Why are you doing this?”

  Why, indeed?

  The man was a few cards short of a full deck to behave so randomly when he’d agreed to the meet in the first place. He hadn’t even heard me out properly.

  Asshole.

  My fingers slipped and I screamed as I slid down the rock face, certain I was going to fall into the sand and be consumed by the unseen monster. My fingers struck stone and I grabbed on for dear life, glancing up to find out what had stopped my fall.

  An uneven ledge that rimmed the stone almost halfway down.

  Halfway down?

  Not good.

  That meant I was far too close to the monster for my liking.

  I glanced back down and this time, when I studied the thing gripping my leg, my eyes widened. The limb looked like an octopus tentacle, yet was covered in glistening obsidian skin and spiky black hair that glinted as if eager to plunge into my skin.

  A scraping sound drew my attention from m
y predator and I snapped my gaze at Natasha.

  My jaw dropped.

  Natasha was using her magic to pull the stone off the ground, even after she’d said not to use any magical abilities.

  But given that she was only using a minor levitational power, which the sorcerer no doubt already possessed, she wouldn't attract his attention.

  Smart witch.

  Unfortunately, the sorcerer turned out to be much stronger. A gust of wind slammed into Natasha, sending her and her rock hurtling into the air. The rock smashed into a nearby formation, with a hollow explosion, chunks of stone cascading to the ground from the impact.

  Natasha, at the very edge of the formation, narrowly escaped being flattened like a pancake between the two rocks.

  The sand below me boiled and something dark and immensely large surged upward toward me. It flew into the air, taking me with it, and as it leaped over the stones it swung me by the leg like a rag doll.

  Natasha screamed out my name, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Calling me won’t help. Get him to stop this shit!”

  I’d had enough.

  From twenty feet away I screamed out at the top of my lungs. “Darius sent me.”

  I’d been reluctant to reveal any details to the sorcerer, especially since I hadn’t told Natasha about the ancient, but injuring my friend was enough reason to spill the secret.

  And it worked.

  My multi-limbed ride turned in a wide circle and used the tops of the rock formations to return me to Natasha. It dropped me beside the witch, who was standing hunched over vibrating with fury, blood streaming from a gash in her head, and cradling her left arm, which hung limply at her side.

  Saito floated across to us, his expression dark. “What did you say?”

  I huffed, eyeing the octopus-creature as it made its way down from the rocks and landed beside its master. All those glistening legs made me shudder.

  “I said . . . Darius said you would help me. Now please, help already so we can all go home with our bodies still intact.” I glared at him, my intent clear enough, although I suspected that though impressed with my mention of the ancient, he was convinced I’d never be able to take him.