She sighs, leans her hip against the desk, and shakes her head. “This is what you call a conundrum, Walter.”
He falters again. “What? Why?”
She shrugs. “Because I need something from you.”
Walter’s face reddens, and he walks up on her. “You think you can threaten me?”
Gemma yawns in his face. “Of course I can threaten you.” She reaches out and strokes his cheek. He slaps her hand away. “You have something to lose.”
“It’s not happening, Gemma.”
The lightness leaves her face. This face is carved from stone. This face is ice cold.
“I’m afraid you don’t have any leverage here.” Her expression relaxes back into a smile. “I, however, have your wife. Your daughter. Both of whom I’m sure you don’t want seeing these tapes.”
“You bitch!” He jerks the computer off the table and smashes it against the wall.
Gemma only laughs. “Yes, darling. As if that was my only copy. Have you forgotten how long this affair has been going on?”
Walter stares like a fish caught in a net.
She nods. “So, you’ll call off Reyna’s engagement to young Jacob and announce her new engagement to Mac.” She smiles sweetly. “Understood?”
“There is no way I can wound the Milles family.”
“Better to wound your own then?”
“But how will I explain—”
She waves him off before he can finish. “I’m sure you will think of something.” She pats his left cheek. “Clever boy that you are and all.”
“I’ll have a locator find all the tapes… I’m one of the most powerful witches in the world. You won’t threaten me.” His voice doesn’t come out nearly as confident as his words.
Gemma clucks her tongue. “In name, perhaps. In actual power…we both know the truth of that.”
They stare at each other for minutes that stretch the hour hand on the clock.
Finally, Walter looks down.
Gemma’s smile says everything. She’s won.
“Call me before you announce. Our families should make a public display of unity.”
Then she flips her hair—not streaked with gray yet—over her shoulder and walks away.
My vision flashes.
Off. I let out a gasp.
On. I’m buried back inside myself.
Colors float in front of my eyelids like clouds stained in pastels. Then they disperse, and another memory rolls into focus. There is a sturdy tree glowing in the light of the sinking sun. Its leaves wave in the wind, and strong branches extend in all directions like arms from Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. Settled near the top is a large treehouse.
My mind’s eye drifts inside to Reyna, and a lean, brown-haired boy who has the flicker of flame in his gray eyes. The two of them sit, holding hands over a circle of candles.
“This isn’t going to work,” the boy mumbles, his young, yet handsome face twisting with nerves.
“We have to try.” A tear rolls down Reyna’s cheek. She doesn’t try to wipe it away.
“We can run away together.”
Reyna shakes her head. “From our families?”
“I can’t believe he’d do this to us!” The candle flames spark up a few inches in response to the anger in his voice.
With a gasp, Reyna backs away. Then with a soft smile, she takes his hands back into her own.
Together they start to chant in low tones.
Flashing again.
Off.
On.
Reyna is chasing the same boy through a field of tall grass. On the horizon, a blood moon looms large.
“Jacob! Jacob, wait!”
More flashing. My vision switches from white to black so fast, it blurs together into a murky gray color.
The scene behind my eyelids finally settles on black. The kind of darkness that the boogeyman creeps out of. The kind that chases you under your bed. A shiver races through me. Reyna uses my body to grip the sheets. She pulls them up under my chin.
There is a slow creaking sound. Like something swinging at a snail’s pace. I can’t see anything, and for a minute, I wonder why Reyna would want to show me nothing. Then sobbing reaches my ears. No, not sobbing.
Wailing.
The kind of wailing only achieved by those deeply in pain. And sometimes they’re right.
Slowly, a soft light fills the room. A full sized bed comes into focus. In the middle of the room is a dark figure.
It’s hanging from the rafters of the room.
Despair grows tangible arms and grips itself around my heart.
I can’t breathe.
My vision tunnels, and I get a close-up of the figure’s face.
Jacob. Ashen and still.
Jacob, dead at his own hands.
I thrash my way to the forefront of my mind. My mind starts flashing.
Off.
“Stop it. I don’t want to see anymore!”
On.
I don’t want this, Reyna sobs. Will you help me?
Off.
My mouth gapes. I can’t think of anything to say. Her anguish washes over me like sleet. I shiver as it jabs at my skin. My body may not ever be able to warm up again.
Even if she ever leaves me, the memories will still be there, ready to leap out and drench me all over again.
“There isn’t anything I can do,” I say in a broken, tired voice.
Silence creeps into my body. For one hopeful second, I convince myself that she’s gone. But the itch crawls back along my skin. The shiver back into my bones.
You can. You can give me control.
I ROLL OVER out of bed and crash to the floor. Turning out of a painful heap, I land on my back and groan.
Silly girl! Someone will have heard that.
Ignoring her, I shake my head. “No way. No way am I letting a ghost control me again. Not after last year.”
It won’t be like that, Kinsley, Reyna hisses. I promise you. But you must hurry. Relax. Give me the control. I assure you…on my love for Jacob, I don’t want to keep your body. I’d rather waste away in purgatory than marry into this family.
I bite down on my lower lip. Everything inside screams at me not to trust this girl.
Great, I’m thinking of her as a girl. A person. She isn’t. She’s a dead, long rotted thing that is wearing me like a condom.
Footsteps stomping up the steps echo from the other side of the wall.
Kinsley. You must decide…now!
I bite down harder, drawing blood. I really, really, really, wish I had my drugs right now. Then I could get high and let this thing ride me around for a few hours, and if she backed out of the deal, well, I’d be high.
Stupid Charming.
My breath hitches in my chest. “Charming!”
The footsteps draw closer.
What?
I shake my head. “If I help you…you’ll help me find Charming?”
I can feel her confusion, literally, as if I’m riding the wheels of thought turning in her head. Then understanding warms me like a fire she lit within, giving me a reprieve from the damning cold.
He’s here in your memory. The street witch?
“Yes.”
My head turns in time to see the doorknob slowly turn.
Yes!
The door creaks open, and light from the hallway spills into the room. Mac makes a pretty picture in the doorframe. I nod my head, giving my consent.
It happens instantly.
I melt away, to the farthest recesses of my mind, and Reyna blows herself up, stretches toward every corner of my skin, as if she was always me. As if this body was meant for her. For this moment.
“Kinsley?”
For some reason, a tiny portion of me is still aware. I’m still here, although not in any significant way. A pinpoint that is Kinsley Lane.
My head shakes, and a slow smile spreads my lips.
“Macburger.”
His eyes shoot open. “R—Reyna?”
/>
I lift to my feet without any effort. One moment, I’m lying on my back, and in the next, I’m standing before him. A different energy rushes through my body. Something that pumps power toward my limbs like a geyser. Even that small part of me that’s still aware feels bigger than I’ve ever felt.
More vital.
This, I understand, is magic, pumping through my blood and changing the way my surroundings appear. Everything seems so bendable. The buzz of power vibrates the strongest on my lips, ready to turn words into will.
Reyna nods my head, and then reaches my arms out toward Mac. She cups his face in my hands.
“How is this possible?” her asks.
“I’m stronger than you thought.” Her fingers tighten around Mac’s face.
Doubt flows into me. I can actually feel Mac going through possibilities in his head. His feelings are like malleable clay. They can twist, bend, be pounded down. Even changed into something else.
Is this what witches feel on a daily basis?
It’s almost overwhelming, and this is just a small part of me experiencing the strange magic. Goddess knows what a full dose of it would be like. I’d probably be floating toward the ceiling.
“Is this a trick?” Mac asks Reyna.
She smiles, already knowing the question before it was asked.
“Of course not.” She bats my eyelashes up at him. If I had use of my mouth, I would laugh. No way anyone is falling for that. “And I want you to know…I forgive you.”
He gasps and steps back. “For what?”
She tilts my head. “Why, for drowning me, of course.” She runs her hands up and down my body. “This present more than makes up for it.”
Mac is almost back out the door. “If you’re really Reyna and you’ve taken over Kinsley…why do you still…look like her?”
Reyna shrugs my shoulders. “I like her hair. It’s warm inside this body. The girl–I’m sorry, Kinsley—doesn’t know she’s beautiful.” Reyna laughs. It sounds nothing like my own laugh. I can feel Mac starting to believe. Starting to actually trust her. “I bet that quality drives you crazy.”
Mac’s cheeks redden.
Reyna smiles with satisfaction. “It must have been hard to offer up a body that you’re so fond of.”
“I only just met the girl. It was nothing.”
“Liar.” Reyna removes his top hat and plants it on top of my head. Then she reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck. I feel Mac’s heart thunder. A warm rush enters my lips, and they pulse like two heartbeats. She stands on my toes and kisses him.
His body responds with waves of desire. It isn’t a long kiss, nor a deep one, but it makes Mac’s head swim. Softens his resolve.
When Reyna pulls away from him, he groans. She steps back, and he crashes to the floor.
REYNA FLICKS OUT her hand, and Mac floats up off the floor, across the room, and is lowered onto the bed. I want to ask what the hell she did to him, but the dot of me already knows.
She charged her lips with slumber magic. He’ll be knocked out for hours.
Pretty frickin’ cool. I mean, surely an awful thing to do, but still cool. Not that I should feel bad about a guy who’s trying to give my life to someone else.
The little dot that is me starts to spread out like water being poured onto a smudge of ink. I fan out. Reyna still has the control, but I’m in the passenger seat. I flex my mental muscles.
What are you going to do?
Reyna steps out into the hallway and darts my head left, and then right. The boom of laughter from downstairs is louder. Upon seeing that the hall is clear, Reyna darts up the stairs to the third floor and ducks into Mac’s room.
“I’m going to make things right.” The voice that buzzes past my lips is hers, husky in that way that comes after a few years of smoking. Or perhaps her voice simply vibrates with the power of her magic.
How are you going to do that?
Reyna flicks her hand upward, and Mac’s bed folds up like a Murphy bed. She rushes toward a black carpet with a golden pentagram sparkling in the middle. Kneeling down, she waves her hands over the symbol, and it sparks to life. I’m able to look down with her, and it’s like staring at something through a haze of gasoline. The pentagram waves, and then caves in, revealing a trapdoor.
She sticks my fingers in the creases between floorboards and pries the door up. Peering down, her eyes—my eyes—light up at the sight. There are clear, thin, glass vials lined up in neat rows. The contents of them shine like stars in the night sky.
She starts picking them up and examining the labels. I don’t recognize most of the words, but some are names. Excitement rushes through us when she fetches up a vial filled with a sparkling, black substance.
Gemma Harker.
Reyna picks it up, along with a few choice vials, and stuffs them in the pockets of my jeans.
Something in me blares like a smoke alarm. I tighten up and expand. Reyna tries to stand and finds that my body won’t move.
“Kinsley,” she hisses. “We don’t have time for this.”
You didn’t answer my question. I buckle down and picture weights on top of my legs. They stick my body to the floor. What are you going to do?
“I did answer.”
A non-answer.
Reyna doesn’t say anything for several moments. I grit my mental teeth.
I’m not going to let you hurt her.
Reyna laughs. “This woman wanted to essentially wipe you from existence…and now you’re what, defending her?”
The girl makes a good point. Still, I may be a lot of things. A drug addict, a coward, a girl bogged down with her insecurities, but I’m not a murderer. At least, not when I can help it.
“I’m not going to kill her.”
Then what is that vial for?
“It’s to bind her to the Affliction Tree.”
Again, if I had more control of my body, I would frown. Something just south of dread invades my body.
I don’t think I can let you do that.
Reyna smiles, and the weights are thrown off my legs. I sink back to that little dot of myself.
She floats to her feet. “At this point, I don’t think you have a choice.”
REYNA IS BACK out in the hallway. Inside of myself, I struggle to fan out again. To become bigger. To get control of this situation. What the hell was I thinking letting a witch hell-bent on revenge take control of my body?
My mother was right about one thing. I’ve never had particularly good judgement. I know what she’d say if she could see me now.
Honestly, Kinsley, you let a dead girl take over your body? And please help me understand why they make a skinny jean for big girls and why you insist on wearing them.
The urge to roll my eyes is quelled by the fact that I can’t roll my eyes. I’ve lost the momentary control I had over my body. Flushed away with the wave of Reyna’s determination. The only upside is no withdrawal symptoms because Reyna isn’t a drug addict. Of course, she’s off to use my body to kill a woman—or possibly worse.
I have no idea what the Affliction Tree is, but it doesn’t sound good. I suppose if it were, it’d be called the Puppies and Rainbows Tree.
Reyna darts down the empty hallway, away from the steps that lead downstairs. We come to a door at the back of the hallway. The doorknob is hot to the touch. Not in a burn way but in a relaxing way, like slipping your hand into a hot tub. She pushes the door silently open, steps inside, and carefully closes it behind her.
It’s all darkness.
Reyna lifts my hand and produces a bright orange orb in the middle of my palm. It dances above my fingers, and every inch of my body feels tingly. I almost want to drink in the feeling. Magic is better than even drugs. I wish I could hold on to this forever.
Reyna lifts my hand and reveals a long, winding staircase. She rushes down it, taking the stairs two at a time. For a moment, I worry that she might slam into a wall, the staircase is so narrow, but the fear quickly fades. It’
s obvious she’s been down them several times before. She could probably navigate these stairs in the dark.
My feet hit hard ground. We’re standing in a barren room with a big, black door directly in front of us. There are silver etchings all over it. For once, I recognize the markings. Symbols of the zodiac. Reyna marches my legs forward.
She raises a hand, and a silver light emanates from my index finger. She inches closer and presses the light onto the symbol for Cancer. The door comes to life.
It rattles, and the symbol grows impossibly bright. The symbol becomes three dimensional and peels off the door all on its own. In the place where the symbol used to be is a compartment that’s barely visible. Reyna places my hand in the air, and unfamiliar words buzz from my lips. After a few minutes, a long, cream-colored rod falls down into the drawer. It’s wrapped in silver like twine.
When Reyna wraps my fingers around it, the wood heats up and vibrates in her hand. I don’t know how I know, but I know it’s a magic wand crafted from quaking aspen. Well, I suppose I know because Reyna knows.
“Let me pass,” Reyna says in English.
The door quakes so loudly that I’m sure she’s going to bring everyone from the upstairs party down on us. Their laughter interlaced with instrumental music still reaches me from upstairs. Soon the door crawls open, like an elderly person getting out of bed in the morning. Tired and slow.
Behind it is a part of the Harker backyard I haven’t seen yet. My heart pounds wildly as Reyna sets my gaze on what must surely be the Affliction Tree.
17
REYNA STEPS US out into the backyard and gazes up. The tree, with its unnatural black trunk lined with shiny veins that look like snake diamonds, produces so many branches that I lose count. It’s like several black octopi got tangled up, and their arms shot out so far and so high that they block out even the light of a full moon.
The branches don’t have leaves, but several black icicles dangle from them and drip a red substance to the ground. The red slime seeps into the ground at the roots of the tree then are sucked back into the tree through crystalized veins.
If I were alone out here, I might have passed out. But Reyna has seen this tree before. I get the feeling she knows its story, what it can do, and she’s excited about it.
Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection Page 184