Escape from Magic

by Emily Bybee

  “Clara, this is Mr. and Mrs. Lamb,” Mom said then paused. “And their son, Levi.” A tight smile spread her lips and she said softly, “Your betrothed.”

  Chapter 8

  I blinked, then blinked again. The word betrothed fixated in my head like a flashing sign—blaring brighter and brighter. No, not yet, not until graduation.

  Levi stepped forward and held out a hand. “I’ve looked forward to meeting you, Clara. But after seeing you perform, I’m even more thrilled.”

  My gaze darted from his outstretched hand to his face then to my parents and the other couple. Boy did his mom hate me. Her glare said it all. She might as well have screamed, ‘My son is too good for you.’ For everyone to hear. Of course, she had walked in on me in another guy’s arms.

  I reached out and shook Levi’s hand. He gave mine squeeze and held on a few beats longer than necessary. I tried for a pleasant expression but probably looked more like a creepy antique doll. “I’ve looked forward to meeting you as well,” I lied.

  “Well, why don’t we give Clara some time to change and we can all go out for a bite to eat and get to know each other?” Dad interjected into the palatable tension.

  Mom turned to chat with the Lamb’s and usher them toward the door.

  Levi hung back and took a step toward me. His hand rested on the small of my back with a familiarity he hadn’t earned.

  I stiffened.

  He leaned his head close. “I’m really sorry they sprang this meeting on you,” he glanced over my shoulder. “I told them it wasn’t a good idea.”

  I followed his gaze to where Sam stood, frozen, his eyes on us—on me with another guy’s hand on my back. This was not the way I wanted to break things off with him. Anger drove out the shock and boiled my blood.

  “Some notice would have helped.”

  Levi nodded. “Hey, I understand, trust me. I’ll tell them I’m not feeling so great and I’d rather us have lunch tomorrow.” He pointed to Sam with his chin. “So, you can figure that out tonight.”

  I got the distinct feeling he’d just broken off a relationship of his own. The thought felt strange. Should I be jealous? He was hot to say the least. His dating probably made Nora look like a nun.

  His fingers were fire on my back as they slowly stroked.

  I stepped away. “Thanks. I appreciate your understanding. No offence, but this wasn’t the best timing.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “This situation sucks.” He took a step then turned to look over his shoulder. “I feel bad for him.” He motioned to Sam. “You’re a heartbreaker for sure.”

  Anger dripped from my pores as he walked away. Two months. They couldn’t give me two more months. I glared after him and spotted a woman with a man in formal uniform standing outside the doorway. The frown cemented to his face gave me the impression he hadn’t enjoyed the musical. Sam’s dad. Great, more fun.

  The cast thinned, people grabbing their stuff and heading out to celebrate with friends and family. With a gale-force sigh, I met Sam’s gaze and walked to him.

  “Who was he?” Sam asked, stepping away from my outstretched hand.

  “I need to talk to you. But not here.”

  His jaw bulged but he nodded.

  Sam walked silently to his truck. We’d slipped out the side door to avoid a run in with Sam’s unhappy father. As promised, Levi convinced our parents to change the plan to lunch tomorrow instead of dinner. Nora waved her apology. She’d texted me several times trying to warn me, but I hadn’t checked the phone.

  The doors on the truck sounded like a tomb closing. Sam sat with the keys in his hand, not bothering to put them in the ignition.

  “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’ve been keeping from me?”

  Which secret? If you only knew. Not being able to explain I was a witch made explaining arranged marriages a tad harder. Incoherent jumbled sentences bounced around my brain. I looked down at my hands. “I thought I had more time.”

  “More time to what?” Sam demanded, pain creasing his face. “Make me fall deeper in love with you when you have another boyfriend? He is your boyfriend, right?” He turned to face me. “Because that sure didn’t look like nice meet you.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Then who is he? It’s obvious something is going on.”

  I let my gaze meet his. “I’m supposed to marry him.”

  “You’ve been cheating on your fiancé all this time?” He shook his head, his nose wrinkled. “You said you’d never dated before.”

  “It’s complicated.” I sighed and rubbed my eyes, not caring if I smeared the stage make-up. “I’ve never actually met him until tonight.”

  He blinked.

  I reached out my hand, but he pulled away. “Sam, I love you. But I can’t be with you. This isn’t a decision I get to make.”

  “What are you saying?” he asked, turning his body to fully face me. “This is some arranged marriage?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” Oh, and I’m a witch.

  “Clara, this is the twenty-first century. They can’t force you to do anything.” The hope in his voice ate away at my heart like acid.

  Shouldn’t have let the I love you slip out. “Look, it isn’t my choice. Can we just leave it alone?”

  “Leave it alone?” He threw his arms to the side, his voice loud in the confines of the truck. “You were just telling me my father can’t force me go to West Point but you’re letting your parents pick a husband for you before you even graduate high school?”

  I didn’t want to use magic on him, but I wasn’t sure my heart could take anymore. “Sam, please.” Tears spilled out of my eyes. “Please, can you take me home?”

  He stopped and considered me. Frustration rolling off him like a fog. If I looked half as awful as I felt, it was bad. He pressed his lips together and jammed the key in the ignition—his grip strangling the steering wheel.

  As we turned onto University Blvd and headed south, he muttered to himself. “I should have known before. It’s probably my fault.” He shook his head. “I knew this wasn’t normal that day in the hallway with the fucking blue light. But no, I couldn’t stop myself.”

  My eyes widened at the words blue light. He’d seen me. “Sam, wait. You saw?”

  He took his eyes off the road and looked over at me. “I wasn’t sure what I saw. But it didn’t matter because I couldn’t stop myself from caring about you.”

  Neither of us noticed the stoplight turn red. Neither of us spotted the other truck coming. We only saw each other.

  Chapter 9

  The vehicle T-boned Sam’s truck. I watched, seemingly in slow motion, as glass shattered and rained down on us. The earth spun upside-down in a one-eighty. Breath exploded from my lungs as the seatbelt crushed my torso. Airbags blasted from compartments and impacted my face.

  When I opened my eyes, Sam was gone. The front seat sat empty except for broken glass. Blinking to try and clear my pounding head my bleary gaze searched the cab of the truck. Then the realization hit me. He’d never put his seatbelt on. He always buckled up. But he’d been so upset, he’d just drove out of the parking lot.

  “Sam,” I rasped. My lungs still struggling to breathe. Agony erupted from my ribs the moment I moved. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I forced myself to ignore the pain. When I could actually open the door and stand, pain shot up my leg from my ankle.

  I wiped the blood dripping down my brow and scanned the area for Sam. Nothing. Wounds more painful than the physical shredded me. I couldn’t lose him.

  “Are you okay,” a man took my arm and supported me, sending fresh waves of torture through my body.

  I pushed him away and gasped, “I have to find Sam.”

  “The driver?” the man asked. “Oh, my God. He must have been thrown. Stay here.” He turned and yelled, “Someone call nine-one-one.” He disappeared into the smoke and debris.

  I glanced at the truck that hit us. A figure battled an airbag in the driver
’s seat. At least they were alive. Stumbling forward with one arm cradling my ribs, I called out, “Sam. Sam, can you hear me?”

  Glass and shards of car parts covered the street and an unnerving silence settled over the intersection. A third vehicle sat, front end smashed, in the side of the tangled mass of the two trucks. I covered my nose against the smell of gasoline and oil as I staggered away, searching for Sam.

  A muted groan turned my head to the left. Trees lined the street. With a glance over my shoulder I closed my eyes and pulled my magic to enhance my vision in the darkened street. When I reopened them, they glowed a faint blue, not something ungifted should see but at this point I didn’t care.

  With my heightened vision I made out a figure at the base of a tree, barely moving. “Sam.”

  I rushed over, removing the spell with a blink. He lay on his side, curled in on himself. His legs bent at awkward angles. One bone protruded from his thigh—the end jagged. But the grisly sight wasn’t what took my breath. When he moved, a gash across his abdomen shown in the faint light.

  Falling to my knees, I reached out, afraid to touch him yet wanting to pull him into my arms. “Sam. I’m here.” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Clara,” he groaned.

  Blood poured from a wound on his head. Too fast. He blinked but his eyes didn’t focus on me. He reached for me, but his hand fell short. I gripped it and moved so he could rest the side of his head in my lap.

  “I’m…sorry,” he managed.

  His warm blood soaked into my pants. I tried not to look at the back of his head where the skull had a concave shape. A coil in my chest wound tighter and tighter by the second. It was a miracle he was even conscious.

  My gaze tore over the scene, hoping for help to come rushing from the smoke. But no one came. No ambulance would get here fast enough to save him with wounds this severe.

  His unfocused gaze met mine. “Love you,” he said, his words slurred, almost sounding drunk. His eyes fell shut.

  “Sam, Sam,” I sobbed and pressed my hand to his throat. A faint throb pushed against my finger, not strong but a pulse.

  Witches weren’t supposed to use magic out in the open, exposing us to ungifted eyes. But I couldn’t have cared less. I held my hand over Sam’s head and forced the healing process to accelerate with my energy. Using the spell, the damage to his skull and his brain tissue shown bright as a neon light. My energy sealed the broken blood vessels, healed the brain cells, and fused the bone in its proper position. I left a small gash and bruise to explain the blood caking his hair.

  That wound done, I moved down to gashes way too close to his carotid artery, healing them without even a scar, then kept going. When I got to his abdomen my own heart struggled to pump. I didn’t know a ton about anatomy but let’s just say I knew enough to know the organs were supposed to be on the inside.

  These injuries took way more of my energy. My hands shook and light emanated from my palms at the enormous use. A rib slowly pulled out of his right lung and into its natural position while his digestive track sucked inside his abdominal cavity and my magic closed the blood vessels and skin. I couldn’t look at his broken body. What I saw through the energy was enough to feed my nightmares for years.

  Gasping out a stale breath, I slumped, exhausted. I leaned as close to his face as my broken rib would allow and ran my hand over his chilled cheek. “Sam, can you hear me?”

  His eyelids fought open, and he focused on me.

  The coil in my chest relaxed a bit. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “An accident.” His hand moved to his stomach and felt over the smooth, unscarred skin. “It was ripped open.” His brow furrowed. He tried to sit up but gasped and slumped back to my lap, pain from his broken legs too much.

  “Careful,” I exclaimed. “Your legs are broken.”

  “I feel lightheaded.”

  “Not surprising, you lost a lot of blood,” I said then glanced at the compound fracture in his leg. The wound that was seeping when I found Sam was now more of a gush. My mouth hung open. With the rest of his wounds closed, what was left of his blood flooded from his leg.

  Too much of his blood already soaked the ground around us.

  I snapped my mouth shut. “Sam, just relax. I have to stop the bleeding until the ambulance can get here.”

  He twisted his neck to look and gasped at the naked bone protruding from his muscle.

  Trying to block his view as much as I could with my back, I held my trembling hand over the wound. With my free hand I wiped my own blood from my eyes. “Get ready, this will hurt.” A lot.

  I gathered the little energy left in my body, swallowing at the realization only a few feeble scraps remained. It had to be enough. His warm blood washed over my skin. One of the major blood vessels was practically ripped in half. Sam would bleed out in less than a minute at this rate.

  My magic wove the shredded strands of tissue together, not unlike knitting. Behind me Sam’s breath hissed between his teeth. Too bad he wasn’t still unconscious. The next part would be much more painful.

  The protruding bone lay in the path the artery should run. To fix it I needed to get the bone back in place.

  “What are you doing?” Sam gasped. “What’s that light?”

  “Hold on to something. And please don’t scream.” I didn’t need more eyes watching me break every council rule. Right now, my only savior was the distance and darkness between us and the accident.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Trust me?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  Sucking in a breath, I pushed on the bone with my mind.

  A string of hissed swear words flowed from Sam’s mouth. I pushed harder until the bone snapped back in place with a meaty thwack. The swear words stopped with a huff of breath. But I wasn’t done. Taking the last of the energy in my body I healed the tissues around the bone and the fracture in his other leg. The bone knit together at a thousand times the normal slow rate.

  “How?” Sam asked weakly.

  My magic sputtered like a flame without oxygen, nothing left to feed its power. Sam was still bruised and battered. I couldn’t fully heal the wounds he had, but he’d live. My vision blurred, and I fell against the tree trunk, gasping for breath.

  “Clara? What’s wrong?” Sam managed to prop himself up to support me with his torso.

  I leaned against his shoulder—my neck not strong enough to hold up my head. “You’ll be okay now.”

  “How?”

  A sloppy grin turned my lips up. “Magic,” I whispered. I lost the battle to keep my eyes open. In the distance the sound of sirens reached my ears as darkness claimed me.

  Chapter 10

  The swish and beep of machines invaded my mind, as well as hushed voices. I recognized my mom’s voice but the other female voice—which sounded way more bitchy—I couldn’t place.

  “You should never have let her date in the first place,” the bitchy voice said.

  “I suppose you kept your son from dating?” my mom shot back. Boy did she sound mad.

  “Of course not. It’s different for girls,” the bitch huffed. “They get more attached.”

  “There is no law forbidding dating before the introduction. And their relationship had nothing to do with the accident.” An image of my mom with her arms crossed entered my mind.

  I struggled to open my eyes, but the lids were so heavy.

  “I’m not talking about the accident. Her use of magic was irresponsible.”

  “You’re saying she should have let the boy die?”

  Sam, the accident. Visions of him, broken and battered flashed in my mind. That got my eyes open. “Is Sam…” was all I could gasp out.

  Mom rushed to my side. “Clara, you had us worried.” She leaned in closer to whisper. “You can’t drain yourself so much. We could have lost you.”

  Levi’s mom stood back from my bed, the perpetual glare on her face. Yep, she fit the bitchy voice.


  “Your boyfriend is fine, thanks to your blatant disregard of our rules.” Mrs. Lamb’s face puckered until her face matched the sour tone of her voice. “We need to be sure he didn’t see anything.”

  I kept my features calm while chaos erupted in my mind. “He was unconscious.” I chose my next words carefully. “I would never endanger him by letting him find out I’m a witch.”

  The insinuation of my feelings for Sam worked. She rolled her eyes. “Well, if Levi hadn’t gotten to you in the ambulance and infused you with his own energy, you’d be dead.”

  I blinked. “Levi saved me?”

  “Yes, unlike you, he’s a caring soul. Too much sometimes,” she spat.

  Mom straightened and faced Mrs. Lamb. “Leave this room now before I blast you with lightning.”

  Mrs. Lamb’s face scrunched. “You wouldn’t. The council would be furious at such a display.”

  Mom shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time some idiot got electrocuted by an outlet.”

  “Well, now I see where she gets her disregard for law,” Mrs. Lamb huffed and stomped out of the room.

  “Mom, you didn’t have to.” I sighed. Strength was returning with each passing second. Levi’s strength. “She was right. This is my fault.”

  She gripped my hand. “No, you did the right thing. You couldn’t let Sam die.”

  “Is he okay?”

  Her face softened. “Would you like to see for yourself?”

  My eyes widened. “How?”

  “Give me a second. They’re lined up out there.”

  She opened the door and waved to someone.

  Sam, on crutches and bruised but looking a million times better than the last time I’d seen him, came into the room. Mom patted his shoulder and closed the door behind her as she left us alone.

  Sam set his crutches aside and perched on the edge of my bed. “How are you feeling?”

  I took his hand, the coil in my chest finally releasing so I could breathe. He was alive. Safe. “I’m fine. I was worried about you.”