Drake’s flat was a ten minute walk, which I made in six, probably because I was more running than walking. Taking the steps up to his floor two at a time I hammered on his door and waited.
No answer.
Okay. Maybe he’d popped out. Dammit, why hadn’t I called him before leaving?
You weren’t thinking, that’s why.
“Shut up.”
You should call your friend now.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed.
It went straight to voicemail. Great. Call me if you need anything he’d said, and now when I needed something he had his phone switched off. Fine. I’d wait. He’d have to come home sooner or later, right?
This is pathetic.
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
I’m going to save you some trouble and tell you there is no way to undo the binding unless I willingly let you go.
“Not listening …”
You think this is fun for me?
“You seem to be doing fine.”
He snorted. Trust me, nothing about this is fine.
“Then leave.”
I’m beginning to think you’re as mentally deficient as you are emotionally.
“What?”
I told you I was being hunted. He said the words slowly and carefully, as if explaining to a moron. Someone or something is attempting to capture me, and binding with you masks my essence.
“Yeah, I got that. I just don’t give a shit.”
He was silent. And why did that make me feel guilty?
“You’re protecting yourself at my expense.”
Yes.
Fuck feeling guilty. “Real heroic.”
Heroism doesn’t come into it. This is survival.
Okay, my curiosity gene was peaked. What the heck was he and who was he hiding from?
Do you want me to tell you?
Gah! Could he read my thoughts? “Stop it. Leave my thoughts alone.”
A door opened to my left.
So you don’t want to know.
Dammit! “Fine. Tell me.”
“Sorry, were you speaking to me?” The young woman who’d emerged from the flat asked.
“Um, no. Just thinking out loud.”
She gave me a wary smile and headed past, toward the lifts.
Fabulous, now I looked like an insane person. My phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Carmella? Where are you?” Urvashi said. Her tone strained.
Shit! Quick, think of a lie. “Um … I felt crappy so I went to the hospital to get checked out.”
“Oh, hun. You should have said something. I would have driven you. You want me to come sit with you?”
“No. I’m fine. Honest.”
“Call me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I hung up.
So, now I was lying to my friend. I pinched the bridge of my nose. People did that when upset. Was it supposed to help? Bloody useless gesture.
This was ridiculous. I couldn’t spend all day just sitting here on the off chance Drake would come back. All this time I’d wanted to be treated like an equal. Like someone who could take care of herself, and look at me now—running to Drake at the first sign of something strange. Okay, so being bound to some kind of entity was more than strange, but still. When Malina had discovered she was a hellhound destined to guard the gates of the Underworld, had she crumpled? Had she run screaming in the other direction? No. She’d dealt with it. Done what needed to be done.
My stomach quivered. I could do this … deal with … whatever this was. Pulling myself off the ground I headed for the stairs. This was a magickal problem, and I knew just the place to go for a solution.
6
T his time the aerial tram wasn’t so busy, and I could actually breathe. I’d even managed to get a window seat from which to watch the city below. From this vantage point it looked beautiful—a glittering metropolis of glass and steel.
Where are you taking us? His Majesty demanded to know.
“None of your business.”
Fine. I’m happy to enjoy the ride.
Had he just shrugged? This was so strange.
Ugly.
“What?”
All the metal and glass. Where is the nature? The rivers and the fresh soil?
“Probably in the countryside where it belongs.”
The lady in front of me glanced over her shoulder. Shit. I was acting like crazy lady again. I smiled and she looked away.
No. Even your countryside is empty of the true essence of nature. Humanity kills everything it touches.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and held it to my ear. “That’s a little harsh.”
Is it? Humanity is ambition and greed and always more, more, more. Never content with what they have, always scrambling for power, always wanting to be in control.
His words were barbs teasing at my insecurities, my desires. “So? What’s wrong with wanting power? If you can use it to help others, surely that’s a good thing?”
Naive too.
“Piss off.”
Vulgar.
That’s it. I was done conversing with him. I fake hung up. It was a forty minute ride to Soho, so I had plenty of time to think.
_____
My childhood home stared at me from behind a hip-high, pretty, wrought iron gate.
What was I doing here? Why had I gotten off a stop early?
The tiny semi-detached property with the huge garden I’d loved playing in stared back at me. It’d been forever since my last visit—almost nine years—but she still lived here. My mother. The woman who’d been too ashamed of my lack of power to continue to raise me. As a witch-blood—born from the union of full witch and human—I should have had some power, enough to allow me coven protection, but I’d been a dud. Even aberrations—witches born to two humans—had more access to the skein than me. Mother hadn’t been able to deal with my deficiency. My existence put a damper on her societal position, so she’d pretended I didn’t exist. Thank goodness for Aunt Constance. If not for her I’d have starved for affection. So why was I here? Why was I standing at the gate, heart in my mouth, hoping for a glimpse of her?
The living room curtains twitched and then a few seconds later the door opened. My mother stood on the welcome mat, her short silver-blonde hair slightly mussed, her expression guarded. She looked smaller than I remembered.
“Carmella, what are you doing here?”
“I have no idea.”
Her brow furrowed. “Well, are you going to stand there gawping or do you intend to come in?”
I was already walking down the path, so the answer was a yes.
Everything looked the same, from the coat rack in the hallway, to the tiny china houses decorating the mantelpiece in the living room. The doorway to the kitchen still contained the notches mum had made when she’d measured me growing up—until I’d reached puberty and she’d lost interest in me due to my lack of power.
A photograph of Mum and Dad on their wedding day sat on the sill above the sink—probably so mum could look at it when she washed up. He’d been gone for almost ten years now, a heart attack in the prime of his life. I missed him terribly. Mum had been inconsolable when he’d passed. I’d caught her watching his memories for hours using some kind of spell she’d crafted with a lock of his hair. She’d shut me out of those memories—closing the door on me as if my grief didn’t matter. It was something I’d never forgive. Dad hadn’t cared for magick, only me, his little girl. He’d never made me feel inadequate for not being able to light a candle with a flick of my wrist.
Mother switched on the kettle and brought down two cups from the china cupboard.
“How have you been?” she asked.
“Do you really care?”
She sighed and braced herself on the kitchen counter, back to me. “If you’re going to be contrary then maybe we should cut this visit short.”
Man, if only my feet would obey my brain, turn and walk out of her
e. But no. My body rebelled, standing stoic and stubborn.
After a couple of long seconds of tense silence, my mother’s shoulders relaxed. The kettle whistled and she busied herself making the tea,
Was it my imagination or were her hands shaking as she poured? Nope, not a single tremor as she handed me the delicate cup. One sip, and I was transported to a time before, when I’d felt loved and safe and home. My eyes stung. Dammit, I would not cry.
She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and indicated I sit. “So, you work in a bakery?”
Did she have to say it with such distain? “Yes. I’m actually pretty good at baking.”
“Hmmm.”
What the heck did that mean? “What about you? How have you been keeping busy?”
She pushed back her hair and sniffed. “Oh, a little charity work for the covens. Nothing too taxing. My back’s been playing up.”
Why not use magick to fix it then? Isn’t that what full-blooded witches did? Biting my tongue was hard, but the scalding tea helped me keep my mouth shut.
“So this bakery … are you serious?” She arched a brow.
Oh, man. “What do you mean?”
She set her teacup on the table. “I mean, what is it you intend to do with the rest of your life?”
“Well, baking for now. And then … we’ll see.”
She pursed her lips, and something dark flitted across her face. “Constance said you were training for the IEPEU?”
“Yeah, I did.”
She raised her brows.
Make me say it why don’t you. “I failed the exam.”
“But you passed the physical.”
“Yes.”
“Then can you retake the papers?”
That had been the plan, but then Melody Parker, the head of the Alpha Patrol and a good friend, had taken me to one side.
“This isn’t the place for you,” she’d said. “To do what we do you have to shut it all out. Turn off the humanity for a while. It takes its toll, and for someone like you …”
“Like me how?”
She’d sighed, looking torn. “There are killers, there are saviors, and then there are saviors willing to kill. You’re a savior Carmella. You’ll always look for ways to save lives, good or bad, and in the heat of battle, when on mission, hesitation will get you killed.”
Her words had resonated with something inside me. Six months of hard graft but I’d walked away.
I cleared my throat and met my mother’s gaze levelly. “I decided not to retake the paper.”
“Well.” she sipped her tea.
How did she do that? Inject a whole sentence into just one word? It had to be a combination of expression and tone. I’m very disappointed in you, it said. Failure, failure, failure, nah-na-na-na-nah. And in a blink of an eye I was thirteen again, sitting at the table, face wet with tears as I tried and tried over and over to light a single wax candle with my mind.
Why had I come here? Why the sudden urge to see her? Momentary fucking insanity was the only explanation.
A shiver skittered up my spine. An awareness of something other was followed closely by a shift in the back of my mind.
“Carmella?” Mother was watching me carefully, intently. “Is everything okay? Has anything … strange happened?”
Why was she asking me this? What did she even care? Wait. Could she sense what was inside me? Maybe she could help me. Maybe my subconscious had brought me here for this very reason.
I opened my mouth to tell her, to spill it all, but the words refused to come. My tongue was unable to form the sounds needed to articulate them.
“Carmella?”
Fuck. It was him—the damn voice. He was controlling me. Panic fluttered in my veins thrumming at the base of my throat. If he could do this what else could he do? What else?
Don’t.
And then I was free. “I have to go. I’ll speak to you soon,” I lied.
“Carmella?”
But I was bolting down the hallway and out the door. So this is what he’d meant when he’d said no one could help me. How could they, if I couldn’t tell them what was wrong?
He could control me. Like really control me.
The full implications hit me in the chest, stealing my breath and weakening my knees.
It wasn’t him who was trapped. It was me.
7
T he Magick District, bathed in red as the sun dipped below the horizon, still teemed with life—people doing late business and those headed home after a long day’s graft. What to do now? Who to turn to for help when it was impossible to actually ask for it? So I walked, no direction, no plan, as if by walking I could shake off the entity that had its claws in me.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Why didn’t you just tell me you could do that? Why let me run off half-cocked thinking I could tell people about this?”
Much more effective to show, rather than tell. That helplessness you felt? That complete loss of control? That is what I can do to you at any given moment.
Oh, god. I was his pawn. “What happened to symbiosis, huh? So now I’m your puppet.”
His tone softened, taking on the persuasive seductive edge he’d used to manipulate me in my sleep. You don’t have to be. Work with me. Help me, and I give you my word I will not encroach on your will.
“And if I don’t?”
My feet came to standstill in the middle of the street. People passed by, throwing me odd looks. But I couldn’t for the life of me move. A black cat dashed by, rubbing up against my legs as it went, and my body didn’t even flinch.
“Stop it. Okay, I get your point.”
I was suddenly free, and stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding knocking into an elderly woman. She gave me the stink eye and continued on her way. The fairy lights which hung from the posts and rode the sky came to life, and the world was bathed in multiple hues. It was a beauty unappreciated, because my heart was in my throat, beating helplessly. How was he doing this? I wasn’t possessed, that much was certain. Witches couldn’t be possessed due to our connection to the skein, but this binding, or whatever it was, seemed awfully like possession. But he wasn’t in my body … he was connected to it. So where was he? Where was his body?
I cannot let you reveal my existence to anyone. Not until we know who we can trust.
We, as if we were in this together. Bah. I was just a vessel, his little marionette.
Help me and we can both be set free.
What the fuck could I do? “I need a moment.”
There was silence. Was he giving me time to consider his offer? I’d take it. The smell of freshly cooked donuts and coffee pulled me into a street corner cafe. Slipping into a window booth I ordered a large mocha and a couple of glazed donuts.
The hum of conversation and the competing aromas soothed my frazzled nerves. Just think this through. What are the options? I either did what he wanted me to or he’d make me do it. Not a lot of options then. That single moment of being trapped in my body, unable to speak or move … oh, god. I couldn’t let him do that to me. There had to be something positive about this. I’d managed to get this far on the slivers of positives, the tiny shards of hope. It’s what kept me ticking. Find the positive Carmella.
He wanted help …
It’s what I’d always wanted to do. Help people. Except he wasn’t people. I had no idea what he was.
Damn I needed a pee.
I was locked in the public loo, about to pull my pants down when it hit me. My hand stilled at the waistband to my jeans.
“Hello, voice?”
I thought you required some alone time.
“Yeah. I do. Can you like … go away for a bit?”
A chuckle. We’re bound human. I’m not going anywhere.
Oh man, I really, really needed a pee.
What’s wrong with you? Why are you so … tense?
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
He was silent.
“Hello?”
You wi
sh to relieve your human body of waste?
Did he have to put it like that? “A pee. I need a pee.” My bladder was bursting.
I will look away. His tone was curt.
“Seriously?”
Yes.
“And how does that work? How do I know you’re looking away?” Was he in here with me, standing in this enclosed space with an invisible body?
You think I wish to watch you relieve yourself? His tone was laced with disgust.
Point. “But how do I know for sure?”
You don’t. You’ll need to trust me.
It was either trust him or wet myself. “Fine. Look away or whatever you do.”
I felt him retreat, like a door shutting in my mind, and I had my pants down and my butt hovering over the bowl in no time.
My phone rang just as I finished up washing my hands. Withheld flashed on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Carmella honey, it’s me, Constance.”
“Aunt? Where are you? The number’s withheld.”
“Airport, Sweetheart. My plane leaves in an hour, I just wanted to let you know I’ll be back in fourteen days. Will you be all right? Oh, dear. No point asking now. I should never have booked this trip.”
“Whoa, back up. You definitely should have booked it and you’re going to have a wonderful time. Promise me.”
She sighed. “I promise. Ooo, my money’s about to—”
The line beeped and went dead.
It was her first vacation in years, and I’d been firm about her going. After taking care of me for the last eight years she so deserved it. It would be strange without her just a phone call away, but it was just a couple of weeks. Hopefully I’d have this whole being bound situation in control by then. She’d be so proud of me for dealing with it solo.
Back at my table, the coffee and donut had arrived. The caffeine did its thing, and the donuts provided the sugar hit my body needed, and suddenly this wasn’t so bad. He’d offered power in exchange for figuring out who was hunting him? A little investigation in exchange for power … Not idea what I’d use the power for, but it would be nice to have some, to taste it, even if it was borrowed. I could pretend it was mine, for a little while. See, it didn’t have to be all bad. A thud against the glass had me sloshing my coffee all over my hand.
Binding Magick: an Urban Fantasy Novel (The Witch Blood Chronicles Book 1) Page 4