Of Blood & Magic: Blood Descent Book 1

by T. L. McDonald

  8

  I run up the stairs to my room and slam the door behind me, completely ignoring the concerned—or maybe it’s guilty—faces of my family on the way. I just want to crawl into bed and pretend vampires and witches aren’t real and I’m blissfully oblivious like I was before. I don’t want to hear their excuses or reasons for basically lying to me about who I am for most of my life, nor do I want to be the version they were keeping me from. I just want to make it go away and be who I’ve always been—a big nobody who’s content to blend into the background.

  I like it in the background.

  It’s safe in the background.

  I should stay in the background.

  But at the same time, I can’t absolutely deny there’s not a part of me that wants to know. That wants to confront my aunt and uncle and demand for them to explain why they kept this from me. Liv said they wanted to be the ones to tell me everything, but if Liv and I hadn’t been attacked last night would they still want to tell me? Or would they have kept it a secret for the rest of their lives—for the rest of mine? Truthfully, that’s what angers me the most. It’s not the fact that they suppressed my powers, it’s that they lied to me. I thought they were my family, but this whole time they’ve been keeping me apart while they sat around and cast spells on me.

  A dull ache sets up shop within my chest. I do my best to ignore it as I grab a handful of my comforter and roll onto my side, taking it with me. I tuck it around myself, snuggling in so my head is buried beneath it too. Unwelcomed tears seep from the corner of my eyes, leaving little wet splotches on the bed. I don’t even bother to wipe them away because what would be the point? They’re going to come whether or not I want them to.

  Eventually my tears come to a stop and my breathing slows, my mind giving into sleep.

  “Indi, stay where I can see you,” Mama says from the park bench.

  “Okay,” I yell from just outside the tree line. Mama never lets me do anything fun. I’m going to be six tomorrow. I’m big enough to play in the trees with the other kids at the park. I stomp my foot and cross my arms.

  I look back at Mama. She’s reading her book again. I take a step forward. She doesn’t see me, so I take another step. My heart beats a little faster, but not because I’m scared. Okay, maybe a little scared because when Mama catches me I will be in big trouble. But mostly, I’m excited. I take one more look back and then I run over to the big maple tree where the other kids are.

  “I dare you to climb it,” a boy with blonde hair dares another with black hair. “Or are you a scaredy cat?”

  “I’m not a scaredy cat. You’re a scaredy cat,” the black-haired boy yells back.

  “Maybe you should both climb it,” says a girl with long brown pigtails. She sways back and forth from heel to toe as she plays with the edge of her yellow dress.

  The boys look at each other and then at the tree. The blonde one swallows hard, his eyes growing bigger as he looks up into the branches. The black-haired one smiles, determination lighting up his eyes.

  The black-haired boy walks toward the tree. His eyes roam all over it before he sticks his foot onto a small knot on the trunk. He pulls himself up and reaches for one of the low-hanging branches. The blonde-haired boy stands at the base of the tree, watching the black-haired boy climb higher and higher.

  “Who’s the scaredy cat now!” the boy in the tree yells down at the other boy. With a grin he reaches up to climb higher when his foot slips. His arms fly out in front of him, his fingers grabbing at all the branches clawing and beating at his body on the way down. Bouncing off the last branch, he falls backward, his arms and legs kicking at the air. His back hits the ground first, followed by his head. A sickening crunch fills the air. Blood spills over the protruding rock beneath his head. He doesn’t move and the girl with pigtails screams and screams.

  The blonde-haired boy stares at the boy on the ground in stunned silence before he takes off running. He plows right into the girl with pigtails, knocking her down into the mud. Eventually the other kids run away too, leaving the girl with pigtails and me alone with a dying boy.

  There’s so much blood spilling out around his head, and unlike the other kids who ran away, all I want to do is go to him. No words move past his lips, and no movements stir his body, but somehow, I feel him calling out for help somewhere deep inside. I take a tender step toward him, ignoring the wailing cries of the girl with pigtails.

  ♪Message. Message. You’ve got a message.♪

  I sit up fast, my heart slamming around relentlessly against my ribs. I crawl over my bed, frantically looking around my room for the boy as though I’ll find him lying somewhere on my floor. But of course he’s not there, because it was just a dream—albeit a crazy messed up dream—but still a dream. And even though I know this, I can’t seem to shake this gnawing feeling in the very center of my being. It felt so real. It still feels real.

  I sit on my knees with my eyes closed, forcing myself to take a few deep breaths before I flop back down on the mattress. My eyes split open a moment later, catching the last rays of the sun as it descends within the coming shadows of night. Soft pinkish, orange light seeps through the blinds, slicing trails over the dark grey carpet of my room. I stare at it without really seeing it as my mind drifts back to my dream. It felt so real, more like a memory than a dream, yet I don’t remember ever being in a park like that.

  And why am I dreaming about five-year-old me, anyway? It’s strange.

  Maybe it’s just my mind trying to work through stuff in some weird way.

  Or maybe it’s something else, a small voice whispers in the back of my mind.

  My gaze shifts, my eyes narrowing in on a picture of Uncle Caleb, Aunt Claudia, Liv, Jack, and myself at the amusement park. We’re lined up side by side with our arms draped over each other’s shoulders. We had just ridden the tallest water ride there and were soaked to the bone, still giddy from the thrill.

  Happy times.

  Now I wonder if it was all lies. Liv said the tea Aunt Claudia’s been giving me suppresses my powers. What if it suppressed other things too? Things like childhood memories from before I came to live with her and Uncle Caleb. What if the day at the park I dreamed about really did happened and for whatever reason they don’t want me to remember it? But why would they do that? Does it have something to do with them wanting to protect me because Liv said that too? But what is it they’re trying to protect me from exactly? The life I had before Mom died in the fire? If she even died in a fire. For all I know they lied about the cause of her death too.

  A hollow ache rips a hole in my chest as my thoughts drift into darker territory. I don’t remember much about the night my mom died. The only things I have to go on are the little flashes of memory I get sometimes, the overwhelming feeling of guilt at having lived, and the story my aunt and uncle gave me. But how much is story and how much is truth? Would they be so cruel as to lie about how she died too in the name of protecting me?

  The hole expands, so that every breath I take is like a knife to the chest, or back, as it were. I’ve already lost my mom, I almost lost my life last night, and then this morning I lost the rest of my family too through betrayal. How am I ever supposed to look at them the same? How am I ever supposed to trust them again when all they’ve ever done is lie to me?

  I wipe the tears from my face and let out a long breath. Eventually, I’m going to have to talk to them. Eventually, I’m going to have to hear what they have to say. They have answers to the questions piling up in my head, but not right now. I’m not in a place where I’m ready to hear them. It’s too soon, things are too raw, and I… I am way too angry to even try to listen. I’d rather just drink more tea and forget any of this ever happened. Forget learning about witches and vampires and chalk it up to a night of bad experience shoved into a box in my mind marked Do Not Open Ever.

  At least for a little while.

  Until whoever else out there watching me makes their move. Or Sebastian deems
I’m a threat after all since he claims I’m something different. Or Seth comes back to drain me dry for real this time. Or a hundred other things that could happen now that my eyes have been opened to the dangers of a world I never knew about.

  My hands clench into fists, my nails digging into flesh. The hole in my chest festers around the edges, the black mass of pain and anger eating further and further into the recesses of my soul.

  Out of nowhere, the bottom portion of my robe hanging on the back of my door catches fire. I freeze in place, too stunned to do anything but stare.

  Holy crap. Did I….

  The flames lick across the fabric, climbing higher and higher. Still, I don’t move.

  ♪Message. Message. You have a message♪.

  I jump at the melody of an incoming text, finally coming to my senses. I jump off the bed, dump out the trashcan by my desk onto the floor, and then throw the robe into it. Flames dance around inside the can, eating away at everything it touches. My breaths come fast, my eyes darting rapidly all over the room in search of something to put it out.

  Water!

  I trip over my feet and knock right into the nightstand. My lamp tips over, the base bumping into the glass, which slides to the edge. I pull myself up just in time to grab it before it falls off. On my knees, I speed over to the can and pour the water in. The fire hisses in protest but thankfully goes out. A trail of smoke wisps into the air as I fall onto my butt.

  Thud-thud! Thud-thud! Thud-thud! My heart pounds and pounds and pounds, the rush of blood, all I can hear. I lean forward, trying to catch my breath, or at least regain the ability to see straight. I almost set the house on fire. Again. If what Liv said about my pyrokinetic nightmares are true, that is.

  ♪Message. Message. You have a message.♪

  A scream slips its way up my throat and I slam a hand over my mouth to catch it. Stupid phone. I snatch it off the table, half tempted to toss it across the room until I see Evan’s name displayed on the screen with two waiting messages.

  I read the first one.

  ~ Hey babe. Missed you in school today.

  A slow smile creeps over my face. Evan’s text couldn’t have come at a better time. I totally need a distraction right now to get out of my head for a while. I glance at the lightly smoking trashcan before climbing back into bed. Thoughts of Evan are definitely way better and much more welcome than thoughts of other things. Like setting my robe on fire with magic I apparently possess and obviously have no control over.

  Evan, think of Evan, I remind myself before I start to spiral.

  I close my eyes and picture him and the way he makes me feel. He’s familiar and safe and I need that. I smile as I conjure up his baby blue eyes, sun-kissed blonde hair, and tanned skin glistening in the hot rays of the summer sun out at Black Rock Beach on the day our relationship began to evolve into something more. Sometimes it’s still a little strange to think of Evan and I as a couple because we’ve been friends for so long and are basically opposites of each other. He’s outgoing, plays sports, and is friends with practically everyone, while I’m a shy loner with a close circle of friends who prefers to hang out on the sidelines. Despite our differences in personality, it seemed natural to explore our emerging feelings to see where they’d lead so long as it never affects our friendship, which is why we’re taking things slowly. He really is a sweet guy. There’s never any pressure with him and it’s nice. It’s comforting.

  I read the next text and just like that my temporary bubble of happiness evaporates.

  ~How was the concert?

  Never in my life has four simple words had the power to take me down. But that’s exactly what they do. All the bad memories and pain attached to them rush at me full force, bringing up images of Seth’s monstrous face and gnashing teeth, sending me right back to the moment he sank his fangs into my vein. The fear. The hurt. The bliss. The wanting. The dying.

  I can’t tell Evan any of that. Ever.

  ~The concert was great. Imagine Dragons are so awesome live. Technically, it’s not a lie. The band really was amazing. It’s what happened after that wasn’t.

  ~Will I see you at the game tonight? He texts.

  Crap. I completely spaced on the fact it’s game night. Of course, I’ve had some pretty major things to think about, so I can’t really be blamed for forgetting. But Evan doesn’t know that, and I can’t tell him that. Gah, what do I do? Just the thought of walking through the house past my family sends my stomach plunging down to my toes. I’m not ready to face them yet. Maybe I can just tell Evan I’m sick?

  I hold my thumbs over the keypad intending to do just that when another text comes in.

  ~ I got us tixs to see the midnight showing of The Crow at The Revival to make up for not going to the concert with you.

  Now I can’t say no. The Crow is one of my most favorite movies of all time and he knows I’ve been waiting for The Revival Theater to eventually show it.

  ~ I’ll see you there. I text

  I run down the stairs at full speed toward the front door, sticky note in hand. If I’m lucky, I’ll be long gone before anyone has a chance to stop me. I slap the note on the middle inlaid window in the door, letting everyone know where I’m going and when I’ll be back. Technically, I should ask for permission since I won’t be back until way after curfew, but oh well. They shouldn’t have lied to me my whole life. I shrug my shoulders and reach for the doorknob.

  “Mom and Dad aren’t here if that’s who you’re trying to avoid,” Jack says, from somewhere behind me. “They left about five minutes ago to pick up dinner from the Chinese restaurant on Sycamore you love so much. They were hoping you’d come down for dinner so they could talk to you.”

  I keep my hand on the knob and my eyes trained on the floor. “I’m not hungry,” I say a little harsher than necessary. “And I don’t want to talk to them right now. Or you. I just need a little time to process things first, okay?”

  “Okay.” He takes a deep breath and I imagine him picking at his fingernails like he always does when he’s nervous, or upset about something. “I know finding out you’re a witch is a lot to handle, especially after having been attacked by vampires, but you’re not alone. So don’t shut us out, okay? Don’t shut me out.” The tone of his voice sends a twinge of pain through my chest.

  Jack, Liv, and I have always been close and I know the cold shoulder I’m giving them right now is hurting him, but at the same time what does he expect? He’s been lying to me too, and it hurts. I don’t care that we’re magically inclined. I’m still wrapping my head around it, but it’s not what’s really bothering me. In fact, under different circumstances, I might think it was kind of cool being magical. But what’s not cool, and the main reason for the distance between us now is that they all lied to me about it. He lied to me about it.

  “I don’t know the details for why Mom and Dad wanted you kept in the dark,” he continues, pulling me out of my thoughts, “but I do know they love you, and they’ve only ever wanted to keep you safe.”

  “Safe from what?” I whisper, unsure if I really want to hear the answer or not.

  “I wish I knew. All I know for sure is that whatever it is they’re trying to protect you from scares them. I remember when you first came here; it was months before they felt safe enough to not stand guard outside your room at night while you slept.”

  I turn my gaze to him. He’s standing in the entryway to the family room with his hands buried deep within his pockets. His eyes are sunken and haunted and it’s not just because I found out about the family secret, it’s something more than that. A watery sheen covers his hazel eyes, making them sparkle in the foyer light. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words breaking my heart.

  “It wasn’t your fault Jack,” I say softly, knowing exactly what it is he’s blaming himself for.

  “If I hadn’t given you the tickets, if I’d just respected your no gift rule, you and Liv wouldn’t have been there, and—”

  “Just bec
ause you gave me tickets doesn’t mean you could have known we’d be attacked by…” I pause and whisper out, “… vampires.” He wipes under his lashes with the side of his finger, and I take a tiny step closer to him. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

  “But you blame Liv?” His voice is soft, but his tone holds a touch of disappointment. He’s just looking out for his sister—which is admirable—but we both know the stupid things she does when it comes to guys. Maybe he should be looking out for me instead this time around. If it wasn’t for her running off with Ben things may not have turned out the way they did. But at the same time it’s not really fair to put all the blame on her either because I did agree to go to the club. I could have stood my ground and made us go home, but I didn’t.

  “I blame us both.” As I say it, I know I mean it. “I was mad at Liv at first, but now that I’ve had time to cool down a little, I know what happened can’t all be blamed on her. My bad decisions played a part last night too. Feel free to tell her that. I’m sure she wanted you to find out if I’m still mad at her.”

  He cracks a small smile. “What makes you think that?” He’s trying to pretend ignorance, but his face gives him away. It always does. The boy couldn’t bluff if his life depended on it, which is why I always beat him at poker.

  I tilt my head, giving him a knowing look. “Because you’re always the emissary whenever Liv and I have a fight.”

  “I suppose you got me there.” He takes a few apprehensive steps forward until he’s standing in front of me. “I really am sorry Indi, and I hope you’ll stay for dinner.” His eyes plead with me, but I’m not ready to hear all the life altering details yet. The memories I have of my mom are all I have left of her. I’m not ready for those to change, because once I know the truth, they inevitably will.