She strolled to the kitchen and took a swig of the pain potion Gibbs had left in the fridge. Instantly woozy, she grabbed the counter top and noticed that Zola had left a note.
I’ll be back with dinner. Rest and don’t leave the house.
Zola’s orders were scrawled across the paper in her flowery handwriting. Annie chuckled and dropped the note in the garbage.
But that was hours ago!
The scratching returned, Annie turned to the window, expecting it to be Zola having trouble with groceries and the snow. It was darker than it was mere minutes before, and she still couldn’t see movement. The shadows were black, empty holes.
Suddenly warm and tired, Annie inched her way to table and rested her head on the shiny table to wait for her head to stop spinning.
The windows rattled against the storm that raged outside.
I’ll just close my eyes.
Gusts battered the space between Annie’s house and Mrs. Wexler’s next door. Garbage cans stored on the side of the house blew into Annie’s yard and bounced against the siding.
As the dizziness settled, Annie opened her eyes to complete darkness. With a flick of her wrist, she threw on warm lights. The wind continued to push and pull, picking up dead leaves, twigs, and garbage in a tornado-like swirl.
She chuckled. Mrs. Welter always left the lid off.
As garbage swirled in the wind, Annie watched, unable to pull away from the window. It wasn’t because of the swirling trash or her disheveled, exhausted appearance. Something wasn’t right about the reflection. Maybe it was the scratching outside that had her feeling off, like she was being watched. She stared at the reflection of the cabinets, the entrance between the kitchen and the hallway, and the stainless steel refrigerator.
Turning quickly, straining her shoulder and neck, she glanced around the newly cleaned kitchen. Newly cleaned… but there were dark streaks of red on the blood-locked cabinet. Someone without access had tried to get inside. The door surrounding the handle was scratched and marked.
Is it the same person who left blood all over the lock?
Annie grew anxious that the protection spell around her house was waning. She knew someone who shouldn’t be here had found a way to enter.
But I was only gone this morning, I’ve been home all afternoon!
Suddenly she realized: Zola still wasn’t home.
“Zola!” Annie cried out. She and Zola were linked together, bound by magic, Annie’s voice, her calls for her should have been enough for her to appear.
The house remained silent. Even the wind settled to an uneasy quiet.
“Zola!” Annie frantically repeated.
More footsteps scraped and bumped, but not from the backyard. It could very easily be the wind swaying in the naked branches and scratching the roof top.
Maybe.
Throwing on the outside light, she had a clear view of the deck and stairs. Just beyond the light, the backyard had fallen into a desperately thick darkness where she couldn’t distinguish between the different shades of black.
The snow was thick and heavy, covering the deck. Footprints dotted the freshly fallen snow and led from the steps to the door and back again. They were too large to be Annie’s, and Zola had no need to walk through the snow. If Cham had come home early, he would have woken her.
Who’s out there?
She threw on shoes and reached for her jacket.
“Going somewhere?”
Annie turned; a man she didn’t recognize stood in her hallway.
*
Fuzzy shapes moved through the dim light.
Annie’s head rolled forward.
Footsteps clicked against the hard floor.
Where am I?
Voices argued. A chilled hand wrapped around her thick, curly hair and yanked her head backwards. The motion pulled on her shoulder, and pain radiated downward. Annie’s hands were numb and cold, immobile and bound behind her.
She opened her eyes.
Where am I?
A dim light from outside offered her the only light in the darkness. She was still unable to place her surroundings, so she closed her eyes again, took a deep breath, and felt the chair beneath her. It was hard, familiar. She squirmed; her arms were tied tightly together, causing the intense pain to return quickly.
Annie looked into the darkness. What few images she could see were dark, fuzzy. She took another breath. The stench of death and burning wood wafted to her.
Where am I?
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as the fog began to lift. A cold hand grazed her cheek. Annie shuddered, and her swollen shoulder shook.
“Is she awake yet?” The male voice seethed impatiently. His footsteps shook the floor, which creaked beneath him as he paced.
A dark shadow cut across the room.
“She’s woozy, I think,” a second voice replied.
Annie’s head spun. She turned toward the voice and could see two orange eyes gleaming. Over the strange man’s shoulder, a window let in low light and reflected on a mirror beside it.
I’m still at home.
She pulled against the smooth wood of the chair—her kitchen chair. In her bound state, it was grossly uncomfortable. Loosening the bindings was nearly impossible; they were magically joined together with her palms facing each other. The rope that held her wouldn’t budge.
A tall, thin shadow strode along the hallway to the front door.
The Fraternitatem?
Annie filled her lungs with muggy air, putting pressure on her shoulder as shooting pains coursed through her left side.
Cham where are you?
Footsteps stopped in front of her. She got a strong whiff of the market, of dung and dirt and wet animal fur.
“What do you want?” she said through gritted teeth.
“You have something of mine and I’d like it back,” the man sneered.
Annie knew she should feel fear. No one knew where she was or what was happening. She was pissed instead.
“Turn on a light so I can see you,” she countered.
The silhouette of an arm whipped around, throwing on the hallway light. A tall man towered over her. He lacked hair on the left side of his head, and his bald patch clearly featured a dark line.
A scar?
Annie’s eyes darted from his face to his torso and down his legs. He didn’t dress like Benaiah. He wore no cloak or identifying symbols. He reminded Annie more of Gibbs, with the tight pants, T-shirt, and a well-worn leather jacket with a rip at the hem.
“I’d like it back,” he jeered. His mouth pulled against his taut skin, revealing protruding teeth.
A vampire.
The cold hand yanked on her hair again, sending her head backwards, a jolt of pain so strong she felt nauseated.
“You have to be more specific,” she said as she held in vomit that sat in her throat. “Let go of me!” she shouted at the vampire.
The vampire laughed at her discomfort and wrapped more hair around his hand. Annie’s eyes dashed across the room as she planned an escape. Fearful either one of them would jump her teleport, she decided she needed to head outside for the alley behind the house. The shelter of a clump of trees could aid her escape.
The vampire removed the hair from her neck, exposing soft skin. His fangs extended automatically, and he looked at her like a piece of meat. Annie grimaced.
“It’s wasn’t in your blood lock. Nice touch by the way. Where is my ring?” The scarred man kept control of his voice, though Annie could detect his tension.
Is he the master of the Fraternitatem?
Mortimer’s warning rang in her ear, like a beacon.
Give them the ring and run for safety.
Panic stuck in her throat; she could barely speak. She turned her eyes toward the kitchen and saw that the cabinet was blown apart. Wood shards scattered across the floor, and her Book of Shadows lay in tattered pieces, scorched and still smoking. She drew in a sharp breath. All of her dad’s notes, burned
and gone.
“You blew apart my cabinet for nothing. I don’t have whatever ring you think I have.”
The man stepped forward. Beyond the stench of the market, Annie could smell his own body odor of sweat and garlic. She grimaced.
He’s protecting himself from the vampire.
“I know the Wizard Guard has the body, and I’m pretty sure that imbecile hid the ring on himself before he died. So give me back my ring!”
His palms went up as if to strike. It took all Annie had to keep from jumping at the sight of him preparing to hex her. She kept her gaze focused on the six-inch scar that ran across his partially bald head.
Did a human or creature do that to you, dude?
“I know you’re with the Fraternitatem. I don’t have your ring, but I know where it is and can get it for you,” she offered.
His eyes crinkled. “Fraternitatem?” he mumbled and blinked in confusion or maybe fear. He clearly worked for someone, but maybe not the Fraternitatem—maybe the djinn or even Gladden.
They’re still trying to clean up their mess.
Annie twisted her wrists; the ties dug deeply into her skin. Seeing her squirm, the vampire pulled on her hair again.
“Knock it off, jackass!” she shouted to the vampire.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to give the orders. Give us the ring, and I promise we’ll kill you quickly.” The tall man threatened her as though he was in charge, but he acted nervous as he immediately returned to pacing and wringing his hands.
He’s not really in charge.
“I don’t have your ring. Who told you I did?”
The man sneered and placed his hands on her knees and put his face inches from hers. Even in the dark, she saw every blemish, every scar. He had lived a rough life—most likely entirely at the black market, which seeped into his skin and hair and emitted his scent to her home. Annie grimaced.
“You are a wizard guard, and you’ve been poking around my market. I know you have the ring, now tell me where it is!” His hand whipped across her face.
The slap echoed and stung her face, like tiny pins pricking across her skin. He didn’t offer time for a comeback or witty retort. Immediately, she felt the cold steel of a cursed athame across her cheek, piercing her skin.
He called it his market.
“Killing me won’t get the answer you want, Gladden.” She guessed that he was very desperate to clean up his mistakes.
Annie worked her wrists, twisting them enough to expose her palms. Aiming at the vampire, she cast a jinx that sent the creature flying into the wall, landing against the very heavy and extremely expensive mirror on the wall. It crashed to the floor and shattered into thousands of little shards that sparkled in the light.
Gladden stopped as his plan unfolded. With her untied legs, Annie kicked him in the crotch; he doubled over, incapacitated, and fell to his knees. Now able to move her wrists, she magically released the binding spell so the rope slid to the floor. Lunging from her seat, she ran through the house, yanked open the heavy back door, and sprung through the thin screen door. It bounced several times as she ran through the snow-covered yard, out past the fence and alley, hiding herself in a clump of trees across the street.
Years ago, a narrow trail had wound through these trees. Annie and Janie Parker, her best friend, would follow the path to a secret hiding place only the two of them knew existed. Annie ducked inside the trees and felt her way for that thin path.
I know it’s here somewhere.
The opening was now overgrown with branches and bushes and was covered in snow. Annie slid inside the narrow path and followed the uneven ground, her thin shoes covered in snow and ice.
Gladden and the vampire left her house. She could hear their angry banter through the trees. They followed her footsteps in the snow; she pushed forward, pulling a low branch from her face, and headed deeper into the trees.
Their arguing echoed in the forest; she picked up her pace. Branches rustled, snow fell. She could hear them gaining on her.
The trees, even without leaves, were so thick and dense, that they darkened the forest floor. Annie couldn’t find the landmarks she had used as a kid. Ignoring her growing panic, she moved quickly and stretched her hands out in front of her, searching for overflow gate that she should have reached by now.
Maybe I’m way off trail and several feet from where I should be.
“She ran in here; I know she’s here!” the vampire argued from behind Annie.
“I don’t see her anymore,” Gladden grunted.
Annie’s heart pounded. She slipped and slid, attempting to gain distance until she crashed into the gate and bent forward.
“I smell her, you dumbass!” the vampire screamed.
Annie’s shoulder twinged as she teleported over the metal gate, slipped in the mud, and landed on her knees.
Crouching just below the height of the shortest bushes or fallen tree branches, Annie scooted along the trail. When Gladden’s flashlight scanned the area, she crawled behind a dead tree stump three feet high and listened as their footsteps crunched along the path.
The flashlight illuminated the tree just above her. She ducked farther in the mud.
“She’s not here! Damn it!” screamed Gladden.
Annie felt a small sting on her cheek where the knife had dug a little too deep. She touched it with frozen fingers.
“The girl came here. She’s in here, and I smell her,” argued the vampire.
“She teleported, you nimrod,” Gladden said, easily giving up the search.
Beams of light illuminated the trees to the north. Annie ran south in the direction of her secret hiding spot, the one that even Samantha had never known about.
The earth sloped downwards. She slid across the snow and mud, stumbling in the underbrush. As she slid, her outstretched arm wrapped around a thin tree and yanked on her shoulder. She bit the side of her mouth to prevent a scream from escaping.
With a deep breath, she let go of the tree and jumped into her spot where she remembered it would be, though now it was covered in thick foliage. She turned sideways and sucked in her stomach, fitting herself inside a hole between the root systems of two trees. When she was nine, the spot fit two children easily, though Janie had never liked it underground. Now, as an adult, Annie found herself squeezed in tightly. She rested against the dirt as the voices faded away. Either the men were lost in the trees or they had given up. Regardless, Annie hunkered down and planned her escape.
Chapter 16
Scrying for magic wasn’t a difficult skill, though not every witch or wizard had the ability, desire, or need to do it. To be safe, Annie assumed Gladden had this knowledge. Most likely, he and the vampire had stolen something of hers with which to find her.
No matter where she went, they would be able to track her—and if they found her, Bitherby was next.
With that realization, Annie believed her safest option was Tartarus Prison.
Who would break into there?
Regardless of that, she needed to get the elf first.
In the quiet darkness, she left her hiding spot. Snow fell through the naked branches and landed on her head. She ignored her cold, wet feet and hair as she closed her eyes and teleported back to school.
Windmere School of Witchcraft was built along the northern border between Canada and Minnesota. From the classrooms or dorm rooms on the northern side of the building, on a clear day you could see into Canada. Today she couldn’t see three feet in front of herself; the storm was thick and blew wildly. She attempted to land near the stables on the south side of the school grounds, but when she landed she slid across the frozen snow, landing on her ass.
Gingerly, she rose and stared at the stables, which were made up of three large, weather-beaten barns. They were covered in a thick layer of snow and rumbled under the weight of it. She traipsed across open flat land and followed the sound of arguing, which was so loud that she could hear voices above the blustery wind.<
br />
Annie stumbled against a chunk of wood.
What the hell?
At her feet were shattered pieces of roof. She looked up and saw that a chunk of roof had been blown off. Suddenly her heart sank. She feared they were arguing about something Bitherby had done.
She hesitated to open the doors, but the squeal of the elf forced her to. The heavy wood doors hung from tracks and whined when she slid them open.
This barn was a storage building, housing food and other items that allowed Windmere employees to care for the many magical creatures that lived in or around the school. Bales of hay were stacked against the far wall, though one was knocked over with the hay scattered all over the ground. Snow blew into the building where the roof was torn off, and the pile of snow quickly grew larger.
“Bitherby?” she asked the men standing in the darkness.
“Yes,” the headmaster said quietly.
Beside him the stable master stood with his arms crossed, his jaw tight and angry. Annie had never met him; he was hired after she graduated. With a scowl he pointed a thick finger in her direction. “This is your fault.”
“I apologize Annie. This is Mr. Jacobi our stable master. Jacobi, this is Annie Pearce, a former student of Windmere.” The headmaster offered a wane, tired smile.
“No, he’s right, this is my fault. I’m sorry. I promise I will fix this mess. Unfortunately, I don’t have time. I need to get Bitherby out of here. He’s not safe.”
“Annie, what happened?” Headmaster Turtledove’s soft kind voice was filled with worry.
She explained her visitors and what they had done to her and her house. The headmaster contemplated her situation.
“Bitherby. Come out. Miss Annie is here to see you.” His voice remained calm and gentle, even as the stable master glared at the both of them.
Hay rustled along the back wall, and the pile shook and shuddered with the fearful elf who was hiding inside.
“Bitherby, please come out. I need to talk to you.” Annie turned to the headmaster. “I’m really sorry about him.”
Headmaster Turtledove smirked. “I’m not crazy about the damage but we’ll manage. Bitherby come out now,” he commanded.
Black Market (The Wizard Hall Chronicles Book 2) Page 16