So, since I was getting nowhere with that line of thought, I did the next logical thing: I took a long shower, finally brushed my teeth, and fell asleep watching reruns of Friends.
* * * * *
I dreamed of my grandmother and a group of faceless witches battling Tasraan, who was cursing her and promising revenge.
Then I was meeting Chris on a hillside at sunset, the sky a brilliant red, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. Then Tasraan's hand shot from the ground and pulled us under.
I awoke to a room not on fire–yay!–and no idea what to do. I wasn't sure how long Derek's name would assure me the free room, so, while I didn't check out, I did make sure to cram everything back into the pack and take it with me.
I decided to start another day at the Coffee Shop. I mean, why break tradition, right? I walked in and found Evan sitting at a table, staring ruefully at a cup of actual coffee. He looked up as I approached and his eyes lit.
“You drinking high-test now?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Figured it was time to give it a shot. With enough cream and about five sugars, it's almost tolerable.”
I smiled, set the pack by his table, and got myself a coffee and a brownie. I sat with him.
“I'm sorry for how I reacted yesterday,” he said before I could speak. “I freaked. If anything had happened to Eva, I would have blamed myself. So I came here hoping you'd show up.”
I said, “You don't have to explain anything. Honestly, I'm amazed you didn't run sooner.” I took a sip of my coffee. “How is Eva?”
“Better than ever,” he said surprisingly. “Once it all sank in, she decided it was pretty awesome to know magic is real, and now she wants you to teach her how to be a witch. She's moved on from the whole 'kidnapping thing’ as she put it. She keeps bugging me about when she'll get to hang out with you again. She yelled at me for leaving you.”
I chuckled. “She really is a cool kid. Will she keep it all to herself?” I knew no one would believe her if she told, but I didn't want her to deal with the stigma of people thinking she's crazy.
“That's her favorite part,” he said. “She loves that it's a secret. It makes her feel superior. As if she needs any help with that. Plus, I think she feels like she owns me now. She's gonna milk that for all it's worth.”
Yep, I liked that kid. “What about your dad? And the museum?”
“The police arrested Locke when they found him there. They seem to think it was some weird botched break-in. Dad says insurance will cover the damage to the wall. He's pissed but has no idea what really happened.”
I felt bad for Mr. Grant. He'd had no idea when he ordered a stone facade that one of the stones would be something more than just a stone.
“So, what are we doing today?” Evan asked.
I chewed my lip for a second. “Evan, you don't have to be involved in this anymore. You don't owe it to me or anything like that.”
“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “Ally, these past few days have been terrifying, but I actually feel like part of something. I'm not sure I've ever felt like that before. I've always felt like an outsider, but now that I really am an outsider in your world, you make me feel like I belong. I mean, I'm totally in over my head and have no idea what I'm doing but I know I still want in–”
I reached across the table and touched his arm. “Breathe,” I said, and he huffed out a laugh. “Let me tell you what I think is going on, and we'll see if you still want in.”
I told him all about my theory, that Chris and I might have been planning to summon Tasraan, in exchange for the power it would give us. Then I also told him everything that had happened last night.
“Remind me to thank Derek,” he said when I was finished. “He gave you a free room just because you know me. That's why I love the guy.”
I blinked. “I tell you I might have been planning to raise a crazy-powerful demon, and your first thought is how cool your best friend is?”
“That, and whether or not I've ever stayed at a vampire-owned hotel before,” he said. “Ally, even if you were planning that–and I doubt that's the whole story–I'm pretty sure you're not anymore. I can only judge you based on how you've acted the past few days, but that's been pretty freaking amazing.”
“I need to figure this out,” I said. “I need to remember.”
“I may be able to help you with that,” a crisp, English-accented voice said.
I turned to see a woman in her early thirties. She was short and slender and had fiery red hair and green eyes. She said, “Allow me to introduce myself. Anastasia Carver-Brown.” She pronounced her first name Ah-nah-stah-see-ah.
I frowned. “I know that name.”
She sat down with us. “You should. A year ago, you attempted to rob my home.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Attempted to?” Then I remembered. “Ohh, yeah,” I said.
* * * * *
I failed very few of Stephen's assignments, and one was about a year ago.
Chris and I had been sent on a commercial flight to London, rather than taking a portal. We'd had a nice, long time to just be together. We spent an unfortunately small amount of that time kissing, because we didn't want to annoy the other passengers. Instead, we used the time to plan the job.
We were to break in to a house, steal something from its vault, and bring it back. All we knew about it was that it would be an ornate box, and that it was imperative we did not open it lest bad things happen. (We spent some of the flight speculating on what might be inside. My favorite guess was evil flying death-bunny spirits.)
The house was outside the city, on a large estate that looked like it might belong to some lesser member of the royal family (or maybe J.K. Rowling). We reviewed satellite photos of the property. Stephen had told us what to expect of the house's defenses. The ground around the house had two kinds of magical protection–hellhounds and Periphery mines. Hellhounds are basically pit bulls on magical steroids. The mines would send you unprotected into the Periphery if you stepped on them, which would be very unpleasant.
We landed in London at about five p.m. local time. We checked into our hotel, which Stephen had booked for us, and went out for dinner. For a few glorious hours, we got to feel like normal teenagers.
At one o'clock in the morning, though, we arrived at the estate, via a car one of Stephen's allies provided us. We parked alongside a six-foot-tall stone wall that surrounded the property.
We were wearing tight black jumpsuits straight out of a spy movie, with black backpacks. From the packs we each pulled out a pair of aviator goggles and put them on, then scaled the wall and perched on top of it. The goggles were spelled to give us night vision, but also highlighted the position of the Periphery mines. It was like looking through a heads-up display in a video game.
We were facing the back of the house, which was about three hundred yards away. As we dropped to the ground, Chris effortlessly threw up a grade-A veil over us. We moved together, avoiding the mines and watching for hellhounds.
We saw one, then another, almost immediately. Did I say they were like pit bulls? Because they were, except they were as big as Great Danes. Flecks of blue foam dripped from their mouths, glittering in the moonlight. Their nostrils flared as they scented us, and their eyes darted around, looking for the source of the scent.
As silently as possible, I reached into Chris's pack and withdrew a paintball gun. I aimed at the closest hound and squeezed the trigger. I hit it square in the face, and it let out a quick yelp before its body melted into the ground.
The paintballs were filled with holy water. Holy water kills hellhounds. Its yelp drew several more hounds to the scene, all of them snarling and chomping at the air, trying to pinpoint us. I counted ten of them now. I took out two more with the gun, and Chris and I continued to ease our way forward.
At one point, he pulled a throwing knife and sent it right into a hound's heart. The next moment, just as we'd stepped away, another hound charged into the spot we'd just occupi
ed. They were getting closer.
I took two more shots, killing one but only grazing the other. It was splashed with only a little of the holy water, and it burned the hound's skin like acid. Now it was angry.
More hounds came, and we continued to dispatch them. One got close enough that Chris pulled it into our veil and slit its throat. We were close to the house now, and all that remained was the one burned hound. I took a shot, and it dodged. It had learned to recognize the light snick of the gun.
It focused its gaze on a spot a few feet to our left and growled–a noise I felt as much as heard. It stalked toward the spot to our left, moving back on its haunches as it pounced–suddenly changing direction and lunging right for us. I aimed hastily and pulled the trigger.
I was out of ammo.
Chris reached up and caught the hound by its front legs. Its jaws snapped at his neck as they struggled. I came at it from behind to help, but it was so strong and it managed to kick back at me and knock me to the side. Chris was on the ground now, underneath the beast. I realized what he was going to do as he brought his feet to the hound's belly. He kicked out hard and the hound was thrown backward.
Right into a Periphery mine. It seemed to fold in on itself and vanished.
Chris maintained the veil around us the whole time. Man, he was good. I helped him to his feet and he flashed me a smile.
We went to the French doors that looked into the kitchen. Chris picked the lock and we entered. He dropped the veil. The kitchen was dark, but our goggles made it easy to see. We found the secret door in the wall, just where Stephen said it would be, that led to the basement. We went down the stairs.
The basement was a large open room. There was a big furnace off to one side and various items strewn about. Through our goggles, we could see a grid of magical beams close to the floor, like a laser net. Carefully, we wound our way through them to the other side. The vault door was set into the wall. It had a regular combination lock. We'd been told the door was immune to magic, so Chris pulled out a small device and stuck it next to the dial. Then he attached earbuds to the device and stuck them in his ears. Slowly, he began turning the dial, listening to the tumblers inside.
I watched the staircase for anyone (or anything) that might come down and cause trouble. It took at least twenty minutes before Chris got the right combination and pulled the door open, revealing a big vault filled with all kinds of stuff. Paintings hung on the walls; there were cases holding jewelry; there were statues, including one in the corner of a beautiful angel.
And there was a box sitting on top of a table. It was wooden, with ornate runes carved all over it. It was four feet long, eight inches wide, and six inches tall. It was definitely what we were sent for.
Chris tested its weight. He could lift it, but it would be awkward for one person to carry. “You take one end,” he said. Then, before we could lift it, something grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him out of the vault door.
Right into the magic grid. Immediately, a shrill screech began to sound from seemingly everywhere. I spun and saw the angel statue had come to life. It grabbed me and sent me flying out of the vault as well.
Chris pulled me to my feet, already preparing a magical attack against the stone angel. It cocked its head and regarded Chris like a misbehaving child.
When he sent his attack flying, the statue's shoulder exploded in a shower of stone. The cloud froze in midair and returned to the statue, the damage healing itself.
Chris and I gave each other a look and ran for the stairs. The angel followed, moving swiftly considering it was a giant rock. Upstairs, we found the kitchen doors sealed with a barricade, so we bolted up to the second floor. We came into a hallway, at the end of which was a large window that was not barricaded.
Apparently the security system assumed no one would attempt anything into or out of the upstairs windows, or that the angel would catch the intruders before they got too far. We bolted for it, passing an open door that looked into a bedroom in which an elderly woman lay in a hospital bed, attached to monitors and an IV. A young redheaded woman watched over her.
I saw all of that in the few seconds it took us to traverse the hallway and reach the window. Chris got there first and smashed through it. I followed him out onto the roof. The angel was gaining on us. Chris and I jumped into the yard, narrowly avoiding a Periphery mine, and kept running for the back wall.
The angel landed behind us and followed. We reached the wall and Chris bounded to the top. I leapt and started to pull myself over as well, Chris taking my arm to help, but the angel caught my leg. I screamed as it pulled, twisting my ankle and wrenching me back to the ground.
Chris sent another volley of magic at the statue and its arm exploded at the elbow, freeing me. Before it could fix itself, Chris pulled me up and over the wall. He took one of my arms over his shoulder and helped me to the car.
The angel didn't seem to be following us. Apparently its protection ended at the property line.
Chris got behind the steering wheel and reached to feel my ankle. It was throbbing. “It's broken,” he informed me, then reached into the glove compartment and handed me a clean cloth. I twisted it up and bit down on it, then Chris reset my ankle. I let out a quick scream, muffled by the cloth. He wrapped it with a bandage, inside of which he placed several healing charms. By the time we got back to the hotel, it was already mending, but it would be a few days before it completely stopped hurting.
We called Stephen. He was angry, but he kept his temper in check, like he always did. He knew it wasn't our fault, that his intel had been incomplete.
And he also knew our chances at stealing the box were shot for now. He directed us to fly back later that day, as we'd planned.
Exhausted and upset with our failure, Chris and I didn't get to enjoy being alone in the room like we'd expected. The entire assignment had been nothing but a disappointment.
SEVENTEEN
“I seem to recall,” I said to Anastasia Carver-Brown, “that you are an elderly lady on life support.”
She smirked. “Indeed I am.”
“I also seem to recall a red-headed nurse sitting with you.”
She brushed her fingers through her hair. “Eloise will be well compensated, as always, for allowing me to borrow her body.”
“You're a mind mage,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Obviously, child. But we have more important things to worry about right now. Like Tasraan's sword.”
I was no longer surprised when the demon's name came up. “What about it?” I asked.
She reached into her purse, pulled out a file folder, and handed it to me. I opened it and saw a photo of Chris in her vault, holding the same ornate box we'd failed to steal a year ago.
“My security cameras mostly failed, but I did manage to get the one photo. This was three days ago,” she said.
I shook my head. “Are you telling me that box holds Tasraan's sword?”
Anastasia scoffed. “Leave it to Stephen St. James to send children to 'save the world' and not even tell them what they're stealing.”
“What were you doing with it?” I asked.
“The same thing Stephen planned to do with it–keep it out of the wrong hands. Apparently he doubted my ability to do that, so he sent you. I think my security system was well demonstrated that night.”
I remembered. “But Chris managed to steal it successfully three days ago?”
She nodded. “Indeed,” she said ruefully. “And as I understand it, yesterday he also managed to procure the keystone.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “But why?”
Anastasia said, “At first I assumed Stephen had sent him again, and I was furious. I contacted him immediately. But he informed me that two members of his crew had gone rogue, and that he wasn't involved this time.”
I groaned. “I can't remember any of this.”
She said, “Yes, well, given the block I can see on your mind, I'm not surprised. And based
on what I know of your associates, I can guess which one is responsible for it.”
I shuddered. “Bradley.”
“That boy is very gifted. But I do have a few more years of experience with mind magic,” she said. Then she reached out and touched the back of my hand, and I felt a surge of magic move from her into me.
I was suddenly standing in white fog. The Coffee Shop was gone. Vague voices and figures drifted by me, but every time I tried to focus on one, a ghost-like shape flew past me and knocked me away. I felt Anastasia's magic fighting the shape, and I watched as it transformed from a fast blur into a solid form. It was Bradley.
He looked at me. He was sixteen now, still completely hairless. His pale gray eyes were sad. “You don't want to do this, Ally.”
“What?” I asked. “Remember things? Pretty sure I do.”
He shook his head. “Stephen worried that you were going crazy, planning what you were. He asked me to make you forget. And now I think, if you see it, it will break your heart.”
“I need to know, Bradley.”
He sighed. “And I can't stop you.” He was fading now, as Anastasia's magic eroded his own. “I know you're a good person, Ally. Do the right thing.” Then he disappeared.
And I started to remember.
* * * * *
“You saw the same thing I saw,” Chris said. “Whoever releases Tasraan will live like kings, Ally.”
We were in the woods. A pentagram was etched into the ground in front of us. “What if we don't know everything?” I asked. “If we got something wrong... “
Chris put his hand on my shoulder. “We didn't. You know that. We have to do this.”
Runaway Witch Page 12