Wicked (The Drake Chronicles Book 1)

by Clover Donovan

  The man’s name was Pargo Hennessy. He had troll and vampire blood in him, which made him look like an experimented on monster, except he dressed as sophisticated as any high class business man, in a gray suit and polished black penny loafers. Warm sunlight poured through the windows, teasing his skin. If he weren’t protected by the Vander’s charm, he would be dust by now.

  He owed his life to that man.

  The door to the basement swung open and hot pink heels clacked down the stone steps, waking Emma and Logan from a long night’s sleep. Emma was surprised that she even slept with all that had happened, from their kidnapping, to the torturing.

  A tall, slender woman appeared out from the darkness. She was dressed in purple, skin tight leather pants, a black blouse, and her tar black hair was tied into a high ponytail.

  She placed her long hands on her hips and stared at the two teenagers, a severe smile growing on her bronze toned face. She had high arched eyebrows, a long beaky nose, and full lips. Her eyes were almond shaped and green, and Emma could see that she was pretty young.

  “I’m supposed to make sure you both are still alive. But if I had it my way, you’d be hanging upside down bleeding to death. But there’s something about you,” the woman walked over to Emma, who’s hands and power were still bound by the rope they had been kept in.

  Dark circles glazed Emma’s eyes and it took her a moment to look up at the woman. She was too weak to fight. “You have dark blood. I can smell it. I was like you once, until a vampire killed my favorite horse. Something went off in me, and I became a dark witch. But I can sense that you aren’t like me exactly. You’re more like my ignorant sister. She’s a goodie, like you. But being a good girl doesn’t save you in the end, Emma Drake.”

  “Oh shut up, Petra. You don’t know a thing about Emma; you’re just a sad little girl stuck in a twenty year old body. You don’t think Vander will throw off the train once he gets closer to finding Craven?” Logan snapped.

  Petra hurried over to him and swiftly kicked him across his face with her heel. He tipped his throbbing head back, his mouth full of blood. Angry, he spat in Petra’s direction and it hit her on an arm. She was about to kick him again, but she was interrupted by the echo of snapping fingers.

  “Come now, Petra. Do not batter our guests, we need them conscious.” Vander said as he turned away from the staircase and placed his hands behind his back. Petra, embarrassed, glared at Logan before leaving them and hurrying back up the stairs to the living area.

  “Why don’t you kill us already?” Emma built up the energy to ask.

  Vander arched an eyebrow in curiosity and strolled over to Emma, his eyes attached to hers. He looked deeply into her eyes and tilted his head back. His voice, as if amplified by a megaphone bolted through the house.

  “PETRA!” he growled. In a rush, the woman hurried back down the stairs and stood a few feet away from Vander.

  “They look as if they haven’t eaten. As much as I want them dead, they have to be alive in order for Craven to want them, you idiot. Bring them food now, or I’ll let Pargo skin you alive.” With a horrified squeak, Petra ascended up the stairs, her head down.

  “Ethan, have you found him?” Logan asked.

  “No. But I’ve received word that your father has told Ethan somehow that I have got you both. It is just the thing I need. We are already in Elsmere, so is Ethan. It’s only a matter of time before he figures out where we are. And I’ll be ready when he comes,” Vander explained as he walked over to a vacant kitchen chair and took a seat in it.

  In the light that shined through the frosted window, Emma could see Vander much clearer. He looked no older than seventeen now with his smooth fair features and his cleft chin. But his eyes were still black and it set Emma on edge.

  “How did you do that?” Emma croaked. Vander looked over at her.

  “What, my dear?”

  “You look my age,” Emma said.

  “Let me tell you the story, since you’ll be here for a while. I was forty-two when I began aiding Nicholas Drake. I was one of the most sought after warlocks around and when Nicholas came to me, he offered me a deal.”

  “He told me that he’d bring my family back, if I helped him get a hold of a sacred document, though he never told me what the blasted thing was. See, my parents, and sister perished when they were attacked by hellhounds. I lost everything, including myself. So of course I said yes to Nicholas and so began my new life.”

  Emma turned, electrocuting herself with every muscle moving. She stared at Vander, suddenly interested in his story.

  “It wasn’t long before I found out your father was lying to me, Emma. He wasn’t going to bring anyone back. When he was done with me, he was going to kill me, thus reuniting me with my family. So do you know what I did? I helped your mother kill your father.”

  “Oh yes, dear girl, it was all your mommy’s idea to rid the world of him. I bet you didn’t see that coming. Well, after your father was torn to shreds, he had sent Preston Corwin to fetch me. But he overheard my conversation with a friend about Nicholas’s death and burned down my house. He came inside after me and killed me right there. He disposed of me in the cemetery and left me there to rot.”

  “But you didn’t rot,” Logan said.

  “Hush boy, I am not done. No, I didn’t rot. My spirit was already forming into a Moroi and I found a demon sleeping on a headstone. I told it that it could live in my body, but I was to have all control. He agreed to my contract of a sort, and that night, I came back.”

  “I went to your mother’s house, Emma. See, me and your mother, we were seeing each other and I thought she’d know what to do about my issue. But when I got there, she was dead, along with her parents and her sister. They were tied to blood trees in the back lawn. I saw someone leave, but I couldn’t catch up to them. She was six months pregnant, Emma. She was carrying my unborn son, inside of her. No one knew she was with child.

  “She had done a spell and anyone who looked at her wouldn’t see her as pregnant. She didn’t want anyone to know just yet. My baby boy was gone, along with the one I cared for.” Emma could see pain in his eyes, even though they were as black as ink, she could tell he was still hurting.

  All of this truth was weighing heavy on her shoulders. She decided that after they defeated Craven, in hopes that they did, she’d ask to be stripped of her powers and become mortal. She no longer wanted anything to do with Elsmere or magic. But for now, it was all she had and it was best for her to use it while she still could.

  “You might be asking yourself why I have you here, why I’m torturing you when it was looking like I was going to be your step-father. I don’t want to hurt you, Emma. But see, I need to die now, and the only one who can kill me is Craven.

  “He’s the only one who knows the spell and has enough power to do it. I want to be with my son… I want to be with your mother. So I’m not going to kill you, dear girl. But Craven will, and in order to get what I want—”

  “You have to hand me over,” Emma finished for him. He looked at her, frowning. He looked as if he were about to cry.

  “I’m sorry.” He stood up from the chair and walked over to the staircase, his back facing Emma and Logan. “Petra will bring you food. But I expect to hand you over to Craven by Thursday this week. So let’s hope your brother doesn’t take too long figuring out where you are. I hate to have to kill Logan to make everything run a little faster.”

  11

  Ethan sat still, twisting his fingers and staring into the fireplace. He was still reeling from hearing that Vander had Emma and Logan. Was Emma hurt? Where they torturing her? The rage he was feeling was unbearable.

  He’d always promised her he’d take care of her, that he’d always make sure she was safe. Now as he sat, feeling the heat from the fire on his face, he realized he had failed.

  They needed to hurry. They needed to get the hell out of Preston’s house and to Oleandra’s before anything else happened. Whoever this Vander
Hilt was, Ethan thought, would be in for a tremendous rude awakening when Ethan found him.

  “Shouldn’t we be looking for Oleandra?” Ethan finally spoke, turning away from the fire. His eyes were soggy and his nose was stuffed.

  Preston walked into the living room and sat a mug of hot coffee down on the tea table for Ethan. Adam and Sage were looking over a tattered map, attempting to figure out which side of the woods they should enter through to find Oleandra’s house. They needed to plan it carefully.

  “We need to figure out how to get there without getting seen or getting ambushed by hellhounds,” Sage said.

  “You can stop worrying about it now. I called a friend who owed me a favor. He’s bringing Oleandra here,” Preston explained as he sat back in a chair.

  “Who exactly did you call?” Adam arose from the ground and stared at his father. Preston hung his head and closed his eyes.

  “Cass.”

  “Why would you do that?” Adam barked.

  “He’s the only one who could get to her faster. Things have changed, Adam. We don’t have time on our side. We can’t just go looking for her. We need to get this done.”

  Adam kicked the tea table over, the mug of coffee shattering on the ground. Sage stood up and moved out of the way, her eyes wide. Without a word, Adam rushed out of the living room and slammed his bedroom door behind him.

  “I don’t understand, what’s going on?” Ethan asked.

  “It’s not a big deal, son.” Preston lifted himself out of the chair and headed into the kitchen to make more coffee.

  “Are you going to talk to Adam?” Ethan turned to Sage. She was folding the map that was now split in two and semi soaked in coffee.

  “He won’t talk to me,” she said. “When he’s pissed, he won’t talk to anyone.”

  “I’ll go talk to him then,” Ethan pulled himself up from the couch.

  Sage didn’t say a thing as Ethan made his way down the dim hallway. He stopped at Adam’s bedroom, gave it a knock and waited. He hoped that Adam would open it.

  “Who is it?” Adam asked from behind the door.

  “Ethan.”

  A moment later, the door creaked open and Adam moved aside, letting Ethan in. He closed the door behind him and walked over to Adam’s bed, sitting down on the edge. He looked up but the stars weren’t there.

  “What happened out there?” Ethan asked. Adam looked at Ethan, his fists clenched and his face red.

  “Cass was my step-brother. My father married his mother when we were younger. She’d already had him. He was terrible. He tortured animals and made my life a living hell. Finally, my father broke it off with his mother and they left.”

  “But my father loved Cass. So he still included him in things we did. He almost killed me once but my father didn’t believe me. But he’s a fugitive now. The council wants him dead and if they find out that my father’s been aiding him, they’ll kill him too. I don’t want that bastard in my house.”

  “I love you too, little brother.”

  Ethan’s heart shot into his throat as he turned to the bedroom door. A dark skinned man was leaning on the door panel, a devilish smirk on his face. Adam raced toward the door but Ethan caught him by his shirt and pulled him back.

  “Adam, calm down.”

  “Yes, brother, listen to your little boyfriend.” The man’s voice had a honeyed tone and he had a faint British accent.

  “Shut the hell up,” Adam sneered.

  “He’s gorgeous, brother. You’ve done a splendid job this time around. The others were horrid,” the man explained as he walked deeper into Adam’s room. He had on a long black coat that stopped sat his knees and he was around the same height as Adam.

  “Get out of my room,” Adam commanded. Ethan’s fingers had turned white from holding onto Adam’s shirt.

  “Ethan Drake, is it? My name is Cass Waverly,” the man said as he advanced toward Ethan.

  “Stay away from him,” Adam released himself from Ethan’s grip and pushed Cass back. “I don’t like you. You know I don’t. So don’t test me right now, Cassius.”

  “Boys, shut it down.” Preston stood in the doorway. “Ethan, there’s someone in the living room who wants to talk to you.”

  12

  “Emma?” a voice teased her ears. It sounded far away, echoing. She had heard it before. The voice repeated itself and Emma tried to place it.

  Slowly, Emma opened her eyes and immediately noticed they weren’t in the basement anymore. They were somewhere else, somewhere cold but colorful. She pushed herself up but was hit with a shock of pain.

  She quickly remembered the magic rope she was bound with. The blurriness of her vision began to subside and she could taste blood in her mouth.

  “Emma? Are you okay?” it was the familiar voice again.

  She turned her head and saw Logan leaning to the side, blood and dirt smeared across his angelic face. His eyes were closed but he was still breathing. So where was the voice coming from? It hurt to look around, but Emma forced herself to take in her surroundings.

  The colorfulness was coming from the enormous stained glass windows that nearly took over the walls, sunlight spilling through. Broken pews garnished the building and the woodwork was incredible.

  Large crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, covered in cobwebs and black birds cawing at each other. It was some sort of cathedral.

  Something caught Emma’s attention out of the corner of her eye. Slowly, she turned. A giant silver pentagram hung on the wall just above the podium and a dangerous looking candle altar sat just below it. Emma’s heart fell into her stomach and she began to scream.

  In the middle of the pentagram, Mason King was suspended by rope from limb to limb. His clothes had been torn and his hair was in a ravished mess.

  “It is okay, Emma.” Mason’s voice was hoarse and he was almost unrecognizable, covered in blood.

  “It’s not okay. I’m going to get you down from there, I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you cannot keep, Emma Drake.” Emma turned. Petra was sitting at the end of a pew, reading a small orange book.

  “Get him down from there, you bitch.”

  “That’s not a polite way to speak to someone,” Petra snapped her fingers and Mason began convulsing, his body rattling against the pentagram.

  “Stop it. Please, stop!” Emma cried out frantically.

  “That’s not the magic word,” Petra said as Mason began yelling out in agony. His toes curled and his ears began to bleed.

  “I’m sorry!” Emma screamed.

  Mason instantly stopped moving and began breathing hard.

  “Good girl,” Petra said as she picked up a wooden bucket near her heels and made her way over to Logan. “Wakey, wakey!”

  Petra tipped the bucket over Logan’s head.

  Freezing water rushed over both Logan and Emma. His eyes snapped open and he began breathing out hard and ragged. Emma got a hold of his hand and squeezed it tight.

  “Where the hell are we?” Logan snapped at Petra.

  "We're at church, silly. We’re here to cleanse you of your sins.” Petra let out a ring of husky laughs and threw the empty bucket over her shoulder.

  The doors to the cathedral swung open, warm sunlight struck Emma’s face as a two figures stepped through the illuminated doorway. Petra turned as Vander and Hoke strode through the pews.

  “Are our guests still breathing Petra?” Vander placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and she suddenly grew tense.

  “Yes. They- they’re fine.”

  “How about Mr. King over here?”

  Emma turned to Mason and saw him staring down at Vander with disgust.

  “Eat shit, you scum,” Mason spat in Vander’s direction and before Vander could react, a mass of blue smoke appeared in the middle of the cathedral.

  Everyone’s eyes were on the smoke as it slithered through the pews and rushed into the air, vanishing almost instantly.

  As it cleared,
Emma could see someone standing where the smoke had materialized. It was a man and for some reason, she felt as if he were familiar to her. She’d seen him somewhere before, she could feel it.

  Vander, Hoke, and Petra dropped to their knees as the man strode forward, his long hands in the pockets of his coat.

  His light blond hair was slicked back with foul smelling gunk, showcasing his extremely pale face. His eyes were as dark as Vander’s and his smile was sadistic.

  “Craven,” Vander said, his voice rattled.