Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  Bartlef snarled and muttered something to Biet. She moved swiftly off stage. I heard something behind me, and turned just in time to see her dragging a young boy onto the stage behind her. He was naked, dirty, thin to the point of emaciation—his ribs and hip bones stuck out in sharp relief against his skin.

  And Sarah was handcuffed to him. She looked like she’d been backhanded, too;. her lip was split and still bleeding. She also had several bruises along her cheek and around her neck.

  I didn’t feel as sorry for her as I would have even two hours earlier.

  Sims followed her, leading a second group of prisoners chained to one another: Ally, Natalie, Scott, Andrew, and Kayla. All my friends, plus my stepsister. They all looked like they were in shock, but Kayla was thrashing and spitting, fighting to get away from Sims. He turned around and punched her in the stomach. She doubled over and stumbled when he pulled the chain linking them all onto center stage.

  I started fighting in earnest then, too. I had been waiting for a chance to escape, for a rescue, but I was beginning to think rescue wasn’t coming.

  Natalie huddled next to Scott and started crying.

  I pulled away harder.

  Bartlef tightened his grip on my upper arm, his fingers digging into my skin so hard I thought he might draw blood with his nails. “Be still,” he hissed.

  I fought harder, pulling away from him until my shoulder popped.

  Bartlef flashed a look at Biet, and she pulled a long, wicked-looking knife out from behind her. I couldn’t tell where she’d been hiding it. She strode over behind Ally and grabbed her by the hair, jerking Ally’s head back so that her neck was exposed. The edge of the knife cut Ally just slightly and she whimpered.

  “Don’t hurt her!” I cried out. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave her alone.”

  Bartlef’s nasty breath blew by my face as he told Biet, “The arm, Hazel.”

  Biet sighed, but moved the knife away from Ally’s throat. The other demons on the stage circled around me. Sims jogged backstage again and came out with a bright silver cup of some sort—the kind that I’d seen described as a “chalice.” His eyes shined as he joined Biet next to Ally. Biet pulled Ally’s arm out from her side.

  I forced myself to stand completely still.

  Biet slashed at Ally’s upper arm so quickly that I could barely follow her movements. A dark red line of blood appeared at the same moment Ally yelped in pain. Biet held her still and motioned to Sims, who handed Biet the chalice. She tightened her grip on Ally’s arm to force the blood to flow a bit more freely. Biet caught the droplets as they headed toward the floor. I heard a faint splash as they landed; apparently the cup already contained some kind of liquid. Ally’s face went white and she slumped, but Sims caught her before she could fall to the floor in a faint.

  Natalie, next in line, started screaming. Her voice echoed through the auditorium, then cut off sharply when Biet held a knife to her throat, too.

  “Be quiet,” Biet said, “and I’ll make sure this hurts as little as possible. But,” she continued, flexing her hand slightly so that the knife dug just a little deeper into Natalie’s neck without breaking the skin, “if you insist on screaming, I will silence you.”

  Natalie whimpered; I could see her biting the insides of her lips to keep from opening her mouth. Biet then repeated the process she’d used on Ally, gathering several drops of Natalie’s blood in the chalice. Natalie didn’t faint, though she looked like she wished she could. Tears leaked out of her eyes.

  I heard a swishing, scraping noise from the audience, and squinted past the lights. The audience members were still silent, but many of them had manifested their wings—the noise I heard was the sound of every demon’s wings brushing up against the wings of the demon in the next seat.

  Dear God. They were enjoying this.

  When I looked back at the chained teenagers, Biet had moved to the boys. Everyone else was watching her, but Kayla, at the end of the chained group, glared at me. She never took her eyes off me, even when she flinched as Biet drew her blood and dripped it into the cup.

  “This is your fault,” she said through gritted teeth, as Biet dropped her arm and moved back to the circle of demons surrounding me. “None of this would have ever happened if you hadn’t come here. It was better before you came.”

  I stared at Kayla helplessly. What could I possibly say to that? It was true. She opened her mouth to say more, but Sims let Natalie drop to the floor and moved quickly to Kayla. He backhanded her across the mouth. I was beginning to think it was the only move he had. Her head snapped back, but she didn’t make a sound. And she went right back to glaring at me, this time without a word.

  I dragged my eyes away from my stepsister and back to Biet, who was swirling the liquid in the cup. She gave it to Bartlef, handling it reverently. He took it in both hands and held it out to Oma Raina, who pulled out a paper packet—like a brown paper lunch bag, folded flat. I blinked, trying to remember where I had seen it before.

  Mason.

  It was the package Mason had delivered to Oma Raina the first day we went to sell ads together.

  Oma Raina opened it and poured a green powder into the chalice. Bartlef nodded once, then began walking around the circle chanting words I didn’t understand and waving his hand over the cup. The rest of the demons drew closer, hemming me in on all sides. I glared at Oma Raina, who stared back at me impassively.

  The swish and scrape of the audience’s wings grew louder.

  When Bartlef had completed three circuits of the demon circle, the Gray Man and the woman who had touched my stomach parted to let him enter the circle.

  I could tell I wasn’t going to like this.

  Bartlef pushed me to my knees and held the chalice over my head. When I fought to stand again, the Gray Man held me down while his partner tipped my chin back. I clenched my teeth, but the third member of their group pried my mouth open.

  Bartlef tipped the cup so that the thick sludge inside slid past my lips.

  I gagged on the taste, metallic and dark, but the demon holding my mouth open clamped it shut quickly.

  Bartlef covered my nose and hissed, “Swallow it or die. Your choice.” His eyes shone with a horrifying lust. I gagged again and reflexively tried to gasp for air. Bartlef squeezed down tighter on my face.

  My eyes streaming, I finally choked down the viscous mass, but Bartlef and the other demon held on to my face. Darkness clouded the edges of my vision and bright sparkles danced in front of me. I could feel myself starting to lose consciousness. When they finally let go of me, I fell forward, catching myself with my hands, and stayed on all fours heaving air in and out of my lungs.

  The blood sludge had left a foul taste in my mouth, too much like the smell of Bartlef’s breath for comfort, and I gagged again and heaved. Nothing came up, though it should have. I glared at Bartlef through the tears in my eyes and he smiled down at me. Without looking away from my eyes, he gestured at Biet.

  She grabbed my hair and used it to pull me back up to my knees. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the knife flash through the air. The slice through my arm felt like a cold wind brushing my skin. I bit my lip, knowing that pain would quickly follow.

  Biet drained more of my blood than she had from the others. I felt faint, and didn’t know if it was from blood loss or shock—or a reaction to the vile potion I’d just ingested.

  Bartlef’s eyes met mine unwaveringly as he put the cup to his lip and swallowed.

  I fought back another gag and tried to think of something to say.

  But before I could force any words out, the central doors leading into the auditorium flew open with a crash.

  Three figures came striding down the aisle, their wings stretched out behind them in full view.

  Everyone craned their heads to see what was going on.

  I recognized them a second before Bartlef did; it was Mason, Josh, and Josh’s father.

  “What are you doing here?” Bartlef
demanded. “This meeting is closed.”

  “This meeting is a farce, Roger,” Mr. Bevington said, his voice ringing clearly through the theater. “You’re trying to use a young girl to gain power.”

  “And to be honest, Abba,” Mason added, “it’s making you look like an old pervert.”

  Despite my continuing nausea, I couldn’t help but grin. Leave it to Mason to go straight to the sex comment.

  “There’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop this,” Bartlef said.

  At that, Josh stopped dead in his tracks, threw his head back, and laughed out loud. “You stupid old man,” he finally said when he caught his breath. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

  Given the fact that Bartlef was the one who had just forced me to drink icky blood gunk, I was a little less optimistic than Josh. But I have to admit, it made me feel a little better knowing that Bartlef’s threats just made him laugh.

  Josh continued to stride toward the stage. The other demons in the audience watched with interest, and I wondered how many of them might be on our side if it came down to a fight. Not many, I suspected. The tension in the room was still fairly high, but most of them had just avid curiosity on their faces; they didn’t look ready to jump in and join either one side or the other.

  Josh’s little group had reached the bottom of the stage. They stopped and stared up.

  “Quentin?” Josh said, his voice full of horror.

  The thin boy raised dull eyes toward Josh at the sound of his name.

  Sarah was crying, tears running down her face and dripping off her chin. “I’m so sorry,” she kept repeating over and over again.

  Mason’s eyes were glued to the other group. A deep flush started on his neck and moved up toward his face.

  “Kayla?” His voice sounded strangled. “Are you okay?”

  Kayla started to answer, but clamped her mouth shut at a glare from Sims.

  “You see,” Bartlef said, “this is what happens when children misbehave. Our People must be protected at all costs. You don’t know what you’re doing here, boy,” he said to Josh. “And you,” he said disdainfully, turning to Josh’s dad. “You don’t even belong here. This is a Kinsha of the true People, not meant for some Powerless half-breed.”

  Mr. Bevington laughed, too, and he and Josh looked at each other, their eyes gleaming.

  “And that’s where you’re wrong, Roger Bartlef,” Mr. Bevington said. Then he and Josh joined hands. Mason came up on the other side of Josh and took his hand as well.

  All three of them began to glow with a bright silver light. And then, without moving their wings, all three of them floated up into the air above the stage.

  * * *

  That’s when the rest of the demons in the auditorium decided to get involved. It started as a mutter rising up from the audience, but soon it turned into a full roar as fairies from both towns leapt out of their seats and tried to rush the stage. They were more effective at it than humans would have been, too, what with their ability to fly. But each side was also trying to keep the other from reaching us. What began as a rush quickly became a brawl.

  Onstage, Bartlef shoved me behind him and turned to face the trio of glowing figures landing lightly a few feet away. Bartlef raised his hand and began chanting. I felt my stomach clench as the ether rushed in and coagulated around his upraised palm.

  I didn’t think, just acted on instinct. “No!” I shouted, and reached around him to grab his hand and pull it down.

  Biet slammed her body into mine, pushing me away from the old man, but not before I’d broken his concentration and caused him to falter.

  I stumbled back and lurched into Sarah. She and Quentin fell into a heap with me on top. I frantically yanked away, desperate to untangle myself to see where Josh and Mason were. When I finally stood up, Oma Raina was standing in front of me, tugging at my arm. “Come with me, child,” she hissed.

  I jerked my arm out of her grasp. “Back off, witch!” I yelled. She tottered for a moment, then used her cane to steady herself. I could see a bright silver glow past her, but I couldn’t see what was happening. All around me, wings flapped and voices screeched. The auditorium amplified the sound, turning the entire room into a hell of horrific demonic shrieks.

  I shoved the old woman out of my way just in time to see Josh reach for me. And then he was borne down under a pile of writhing, fighting bodies. I dove for his hand, trying to grab him, but an arm caught me around the waist.

  “You’re not going anywhere, cutie,” Sims said, his foul breath skittering along my cheek. “Except with me.”

  I struggled against his hold on me. Demons dragged Josh backwards, spread-eagling him on the floor. His wings were stretched out above and behind him and I was reminded for one crazy moment of a snow angel, an impression made by a child, silver in the moonlight.

  I shook off the image. Several of the demons pinned his arms down while two others moved around and grabbed his wings.

  I stood frozen.

  “Oh,” said Sims, as transfixed by the image as I was, but for different reasons, “This is going to be good.”

  The two groups of demons pulled Josh in opposite directions. He fought against them desperately. I struggled in Sims’s grip, frantically searching the mob for Mason or Mr. Bevington. Sims tightened his arms around me.

  And then I heard the ripping sound, like silk shredding. Josh began screaming as his wings tore away from his back, rupturing his skin.

  Sims laughed as I fought against his hold and shrieked at him to let me go. He was too busy enjoying the spectacle and trying to hold me still at the same time to see Sarah come up behind him. She was still handcuffed to Quentin, but she was no longer crying. The look on her face was determined. She reached around Sims and let the chain of the handcuffs drag around his neck. Then she clasped her hands together and pulled backwards sharply.

  It was enough to make him stumble for just a moment. I was out of his arms and across the stage in an instant, kicking and punching my way through creatures as I tried to get to Josh. They kicked me back and I landed on my knees.

  His wings came away in a final hiss of torn satin. Josh screamed again, an agonizing shriek, and the two demons holding his glorious silver wings popped away into the ethereal.

  The rest of the demons dropped him on the stage and moved on in search of another target. Josh’s still form lay silent as a pool of blood formed around him. I crawled to him and took his hand.

  “Oh, God,” I sobbed, “I’m so sorry, Josh. So sorry, so sorry, so sorry.” I repeated myself over and over as tears ran down my face. Josh’s silver eyes slitted open. His other hand scrabbled around on the floor next to him. He brought it up, covered with blood. When he motioned, I leaned in, and he swiped his bloodied thumb across my lower lip.

  “Give me your other hand, too,” he whispered, his voice raw with screaming.

  “We have to get you some help,” I said, frantically looking around the room for aid that wasn’t coming.

  “Your hand,” he croaked.

  I rested my other hand on top of the one already holding his. He covered them both with his bloodied hand.

  “Lick your lips,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “Do it,” he said, his silver eyes intent. “You need the blood.”

  I shuddered, but I managed to drag my tongue across the lip he’d just touched. To my surprise, the taste of it didn’t make me gag. Unlike the blood in the cup, it tasted clean somehow, cool like silver, with just a touch of salt.

  And it wiped the foul taste of Bartlef’s concoction out of my mouth.

  “Now concentrate,” Josh said.

  I looked down at him, uncertain of what to do. “On what?” I asked miserably.

  As I watched, he began to glow more brightly and I realized that, even as the demons had pulled off his wings, his silver light had never entirely extinguished.

  He pulled his other arm around so that his hands were now encompass
ing mine.

  “Like this,” he said, and pulled me down toward him. I leaned in and our lips met.

  Mason’s kisses had made me breathless. And kissing Josh had made me glow.

  But nothing had prepared me for what was happening now.

  His mouth was hot, feverish against mine, and as we kissed, the heat slipped down into the spaces in my body that Biet had frozen. The rest of the world, the dangers surrounding us—it all slipped away. In the moment of that kiss, we were perfect. Complete.

  And then it was over. His lips cooled and slipped away from mine. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and laid his head back down on the ground.

  I wasn’t sure he was breathing, but I didn’t have time right now to check.

  I stood up and stretched my arms out to my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that I was glowing brighter than I ever had before—brighter even than Josh had when he burst into the room with his father and Mason.

  I knew what I needed to do, and I knew how to do it.

  I didn’t even have to try—my voice boomed out across the auditorium as I spoke.

  “Roger Bartlef,” I said. “Pailis. Sangara.” I spoke the words as if I had known them all my life. Deceiver. Unholy. “You bring darkness to your people.” The sounds around me died down and I realized that I was hovering above the stage. I could see Bartlef and Biet, holding down a young demon from Fairy as he tried to fight his way to Mason, who was backed into a corner with Mr. Bevington.

  “Turn and face the light,” I commanded. Echoes bounced back to me from all sides of the room.

  Bartlef stood up straight, his eyes meeting mine across the stage.

  Then he unfurled his giant bat-wings and lifted into the air.

  “Oh, child,” he said, his evil smile making his eyes look even colder. “You think you can best me?” His resounding laugh followed the echoes of my voice around the hall.

  “Well,” I muttered under my breath. “I guess I’m going to try.”

  Chapter 20

  Bartlef swooped toward me, then pulled up so that he hovered above me, just out of reach.