The Magic: Wilds Book Four

by Donna Augustine

  He pulled a letter out of his back pocket. “Zarrod sent instructions. He wants you there tomorrow.” He didn’t need to tell me how he felt about it, as he wasn’t holding back his facial talk.

  I’d been waiting for the notice but started to pretend that maybe it wouldn’t come.

  I hopped down and took the letter. “Do you know this place?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So we leave tomorrow at sunrise?” I asked, instead of asking if he was still on board.

  Then I waited while he didn’t answer until he finally said, “I don’t know if I can keep being this person.”

  He left the letter with me as he walked away.

  Keep being what person? Did he mean he didn’t want to be with me anymore? Did he want to be done with me and all my entanglements and headaches?

  I slumped against the fence.

  * * *

  Everyone had quit for the day, but I continued. I was glad for the alone time so I didn’t have to hide how miserable I felt.

  Even after I hammered in my last nail, I didn’t want to go back to the house, even though my stomach was growling and I’d eaten my last bit of jerky. I sat with my back against the fence rethinking Dax’s words.

  Today was turning out to be one of those days, so when a Wood Mist shimmered a few feet in front of me, I was half expecting it. They’d never come on the farm property before, and I guessed I’d felt a little safer than I should’ve.

  “I like it better when you chime. It’s rude not to knock,” I told it.

  “You need to stop helping them,” it said.

  “So I guess you’re wired for sound in here, huh? Eavesdropping is rude too.” I pulled the knife from my ankle. “Go away. I’m not in the mood for this today.”

  Damn thing took a step closer, but it was sort of fuzzy.

  “What’s wrong with you today?” I asked. “You got the mist flu or something?”

  “Don’t help him. You are giving him something that is ours.”

  These jerks never answered anything. I threw my knife, knowing the thing would go flying through him but hoping he might take the hint.

  He didn’t.

  “I have an idea. Why don’t you tell me what the beef is between you guys and the Dark Walkers and I’ll consider it.”

  “Don’t go there again.”

  “Or what? What are you going to do to me?” It probably wasn’t the wisest question, but I was pretty certain they were going to do diddly squat. I’d gotten my magic back on my own. I’d busted through the hex they’d put on me once, and it would probably be even easier to do it the second time. And I had a feeling if they could’ve done something they would’ve already done it to me.

  I got to my feet to go get my knife, thinking it might be interesting if I could walk right through it. I swerved around at the last moment because, interesting or not, it was also sort of icky.

  I grabbed my knife where it had fallen to the ground and turned back to the Wood Mist. It faded and then disappeared again, as if it couldn’t maintain its form here or something was stopping it. Maybe something like an old wizard who didn’t want to get kicked out of the basement?

  Chapter 23

  I’d been having a dream of Dax when I awoke and realized that reality had bled over into my subconscious. Hands were sliding up over my hips as I slowly came awake. There wasn’t any fear. I’d known the feel of this man’s hands even in my sleep.

  He straddled my thighs and his eyes held a hint of beast in them. The raw magic flowed from him and sank into me, even where our skin didn’t touch, setting my senses off as surely as the feel of his hands running under my shirt and following the curve of my waist to continue a slow path to my breasts and drag my shirt up with them. They closed over my softness with a firm grasp that had me catching my breath and letting it out on a soft moan.

  He leaned over me, his chest grazing mine. His lips barely touched my own, his tongue dipping inside my mouth with a teasing dance before he paused, looking into my eyes. He hovered above me, holding himself still, his lips not even an inch from mine, as if waiting for something.

  I gave in to the temptation of him, reaching up and pulling his lips back to mine, eager to taste him again.

  I wasn’t sure why he’d paused or what he’d been looking for, but any hesitation was obliterated. His tongue plunged into my mouth at the same moment he entered me in one smooth motion. I’d been ready from the first touch, and then it was as if all the longing and worry I’d been holding slipped away and was replaced by a frantic need. I arched into him, wanting more, and he gave until I was writhing in his arms.

  I collapsed onto the bed, him following and pressing me farther into the mattress.

  We didn’t speak as we lay there. I didn’t ask him what he’d meant earlier, and he didn’t bring it up.

  * * *

  We didn’t meet them at the gates of Newco this time, but it wasn’t far from the border. A clearing lined with thick forest on all sides, the center a mile wide.

  Everything else was the same. There were guards waiting for us, and shortly after we got to the arranged meeting point, Croq arrived in a black car that stopped about a hundred yards from us.

  He walked forward, as did I, both of us watching for some sort of distress on the other’s part that would send us both running back for cover.

  I got in the car, my normal driver absent. I watched this one for a sign but received nothing but a suspicious look in return.

  We didn’t drive for that long, and, as far as I could tell, hadn’t passed back into Newco territory as the car slowed its pace. My pulse ratcheted up and it felt like I’d been transported back fifteen years, about to be handed over to a life of hell.

  But it was only one day. That was all. And I wasn’t the helpless girl I’d been then. This was my choice.

  Still, he was going to cut me again. It wasn’t the pain that bothered me, as I’d rather take ten kicks to the gut. It was the feeling that came with it. How it felt like I was coated in filth afterward, and then the drain that followed. It hadn’t lasted long, though, and I needed time. Had to have more time.

  We parked and I saw Zarrod waiting there with Brod. The driver got out of the car and then the door swung open, but my back stayed glued to the cushion. Get out of the car. Move, damn you, before he knows how much you dread this.

  Locked knees unbent and I stepped into the sunshine on a beautiful field. How could the sky be so perfect or the wildflowers smell so good on such an ugly day? It should’ve been storming, the way I felt inside.

  I walked toward Zarrod, my eyes meeting his, no fear. I wouldn’t give him that. He wanted it too much. He was that type. I moved toward him as his equal.

  “You know the drill,” Zarrod said. I reached to my hip, withdrew my knife, and handed it to him without any hesitation. I yanked up my sleeve before he could ask and then held out my arm for his convenience. See? This is nothing. You are nothing. You can’t beat me and you never will.

  He raised the knife, a smile on his face, as if he didn’t know what I was thinking or didn’t care.

  I held firm, not shrinking away, and I wouldn’t, no matter how deep he cut or how the feeling of that dark grime felt as it settled over me.

  He paused for a moment, the knife dropping to his side. “You don’t realize it, but I’m not your enemy. Before the Wood Mist, as you call them, started screwing things up, I was the one that protected humans from them.”

  I didn’t call him a liar, but I did grab my knife back from him before either he or Brod moved. I held it out again, hilt toward him while it rested on the flat of my palm. I could see the unease settle into his features and it felt good. That’s right, I’m not as helpless as you think. I’m allowing you to do this.

  “Get on with it.”

  He took the knife back, his lips pressed firmly together.

  Brod’s chanting started before the cut and the dirtiness, the bleakness—the drain—settled over me like a d
ark curtain on my beautiful day.

  * * *

  “What is this?” Ms. Edith asked before she balled up the pictures I’d drawn and threw them at me.

  “The pictures you wanted.”

  “You know what I want and you give me these?”

  “I’ll draw more. I’ll draw whatever you want.” I huddled farther into the corner, knowing something bad was coming. It always did when she got like this.

  She reached forward, her hand circling around my upper arm, her fingers digging in when they didn’t need to as she dragged me from my cell.

  “Please, I’ll draw whatever you want,” I cried as I tried to cling to the doorframe. She didn’t respond, just used her other hand to rip my fingers free of their grip. Her guards, who were waiting in the hall, fell in step behind us.

  I knew I shouldn’t fight, it always made it worse, but I couldn’t stop myself. Sometimes instinct overruled logic. I bit her forearm and she yelped, letting me go. It didn’t matter. One of the guards wrapped an arm around my waist and was oblivious to how hard I kicked or how loud I screamed.

  “Bring her to the room and start. I’ll be there soon.”

  As much as I hated her, I didn’t want her to leave. With every step she took away from me, the more my fate was sealed. There would be no stopping them. Her guards didn’t want anything from me, and I sometimes feared they secretly wanted to kill me. I was a reminder of the disease that had robbed them of their loved ones, except I’d survived. They wouldn’t stop until she returned.

  Ms. Edith looked back just before she turned the corner. “Next time you’ll try harder.”

  She was gone. My fate was sealed.

  * * *

  My cheek was pressed against the leather of the seat I was lying on. The car was moving. I was on my way back. I was going home. I pressed my palms to the seat and pushed myself up. A wave of nausea like I hadn’t felt the first time passed through me.

  “Stop the car,” I said, to the driver, not caring about the few minutes I wasted.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I’m going to be sick. Stop it!”

  I jerked forward as he slammed on his brakes, and got out and fell to my knees, emptying my stomach by the back tires. I heaved until there was nothing left, and then I heaved again.

  When the spasms finally stopped, I stood and climbed back into the car. It moved forward, and I looked for the canteen but found nothing. I swiped an arm across my face instead.

  I didn’t know where I dug up the energy or the reserve to walk across to Dax as if I were fine, but I did. I climbed on the back of his bike and told him to ride straight back, without stopping.

  When he asked why, I told him I just wanted to get home.

  It was true. I also needed him distracted by driving before he realized how bad a shape I was in.

  * * *

  “What happened?” It was Dax’s voice the next afternoon when I was finally waking. I looked at the clock and saw eleven in the morning. I barely remembered anything after getting back except hitting the bed.

  I sat up, acting like I didn’t feel like I’d been dragged behind a truck for hours. “Same as last time.”

  “I smelled the sickness.”

  “I threw up on the way back. I must’ve eaten something that didn’t agree with me. Even now my stomach feels off.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. They take blood, do a little chant, and have me wait in the car.” It was a cleaned-up version of the truth.

  “And that’s it?”

  “I don’t see anything,” I said, trying to avoid lying. It was ridiculous at how well he could read me. He stood there silently, staring as if he was trying to sniff out a lie.

  He didn’t say anything else, and I had no idea if he believed me as he walked from the room, but I was fairly certain he wasn’t happy either way.

  Chapter 24

  I was leaning over a plant when I had to put my hand down before I planted my face in the soil instead. I’d made an excuse this morning to avoid working on the fence, saying that we were going to lose food soon if I didn’t do a day in the garden. Truth was, I couldn’t deal with the eyes on me today, and I wasn’t sure I could do the work. Not that gardening was much easier, but no one would be watching my progress here.

  I should’ve been better by now. Yeah, Zarrod had cut the hell out of me from the looks of it, but I’d taken a shot to the heart and had been fine after an afternoon nap. I pushed to my feet, more positive than ever that there was something very wrong.

  I wiped the sweat from my forehead and headed in the house. There was only one person I could think of that might have an answer for what was going on, who wouldn’t care enough to try and stop me from going back. I rapped on the basement door and Tank answered.

  “Where’s Bitters?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  I didn’t feel good enough to deal with their budding bro-mance and Tank’s sudden overprotectiveness today. “The person standing here asking.” Or the obvious obtuseness of what he was asking.

  “He’s downstairs.”

  I moved to the left, trying to get past him, and he moved with me. “I need a minute with him—alone.”

  “Let her down!” I heard Bitters yelling from below.

  Tank stepped out of the way, but not before he thought about it for a couple of seconds.

  I’d smelled the weird fumes before I entered, but they hit me hard as I walked in and Tank shut the door on his way out. I put my arm over my mouth, hoping to block some of the smoke heading up the stairwell and still breathe. My eyes watered and I used my free hand to grip the banister as my vision blurred. It got a little better as I made it all the way down and realized a pocket of fog was hovering at the top of the stairs.

  I never went down to the basement, ever. Hated the place. All the cement reminded me of another time that wasn’t so pleasant. Even standing down here now, with the small windows, made me wonder if the fumes were even what was causing me breathing problems, or was it my need to get the hell out of here for my mental wellbeing?

  “What are you—” A violent coughing spasm racked me, and it took a second to get under control before I could speak again. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Nothing much,” Bitters replied while he stood in front of a pot that was giving off neon-green steam.

  If he didn’t want to share, I’d rather not know. No knowledge was sometimes best. I didn’t want to be the reason someone who could put a nasty spell on me got evicted. I had my plate full of problems without stirring up trouble elsewhere.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  I leaned back to get a better view of the door and to make sure it was still shut.

  “Spit it out,” he said.

  “Can I trust you?”

  “Maybe? Maybe not. Doesn’t matter, though, does it? If you need a wizard’s advice, you’re sort of stuck anyway, now aren’t you?”

  “I need to know how good that grounding spell you did is. Like, how foolproof?” I asked. Didn’t matter what I said to Dax about surviving. I wasn’t underestimating what might happen with this next trip.

  “My spells always work,” Bitters said, throwing some more green herbs in the pot, which set off another plume.

  “It couldn’t work in reverse, could it?” I didn’t want to die, but there were worse things that could happen. Like accidentally killing the ones you were trying to protect.

  He squinted.

  “As in, if somehow I did die, I wouldn’t kill Dax too.”

  “You can’t die if he doesn’t, but you couldn’t kill him anyway. I got a taste of his magic. That man isn’t going anywhere, and for a long time.”

  I chewed at my lip, not so sure he was right about that. I’d seen his brother die. His twin brother.

  “Bitters, if I had a sister—”

  “Do you?” he asked, a little too interested, which creeped me out a bit.

  “No, but if I
did, would she have the same magic I do? Is it a family thing?”

  “No. No one has the same, not family member, not siblings, no one.”

  “But what if she were my twin?”

  “But you don’t even have a sister. I have things to work on. Why are you bothering me with these silly questions?” He huffed, so much more like the Bitters I’d met in the beginning than the one who’d strolled across the lawn and greeted me like long-lost family.

  “If I did?”

  “No. It wouldn’t matter. And it’s nearly impossible for you to die if he’s alive. Don’t know how many times I have to tell you.” He tapped his mixing spoon on the side of the pot and laid it down on what looked like a pile of Tank’s jerky. Ugh.

  “Wait, nearly impossible or impossible?” I asked.

  “It’s so unlikely as to render it impossible.”

  “So you’re saying there might be a way I could die?”

  “Nothing is absolute.”

  Bitters poured some of his brew into a cup and then found a stool to sit on that had been covered with papers. He took a sip and made a face like he’d just swallowed poison. Then he held out his mug to me. I shook my hand and muttered a no thanks.

  “Think of it like this. The grounding spell is like an imaginary rope, running from Dax to you. If your life force falters, that tether keeps you anchored here. If that tether was severed somehow, then there’s nothing to stop you from dying.”

  “What would sever it?”

  He took another sip and made another face. “It would have to be such a convergence of events that it would be nearly impossible.”

  “Just tell me how it could happen.”

  “I guess if there was a constant drain upon you and then a different type of spell that cut you off from your magic in some way, it could possibly happen. It would have to be some dirty stuff, though.” He took another sip and then made a horrible snorting noise. “But so unlikely.”