by T. L. Martin
“Sorry I haven’t been around much,” I said softly, and I meant it. “Just, with everything...well, you know. It’s a lot.”
Willow glanced up at me hesitantly. Her eyes were kind enough, but she was the one I’d conversed the least with out of the Guardians. I figured my best bet in getting her to open up to me was by just being myself.
“It’s okay,” she said, shifting in her seat. “It’s not you. Conversing with strangers isn’t exactly my strong point.”
“What is your strong point?”
“That’s an easy one.” She peered up at me over the black rim of her glasses and gave a small shrug. “Magic.”
“Yeah? Matt told me your skills are impressive,” I said between chews.
Willow reached beside her to tuck her phone into her purse, and I took the opportunity to sprinkle a small dose of Priscilla’s mix over her exposed shoulders. It felt wrong, hiding so much from all of them, and I glanced away guiltily.
“Yeah, well...” She shrugged a shoulder once more. “It’s all I know.”
I looked up at her, this kind girl who seemed so withdrawn, so self-conscious, despite being more capable than most.
“I’m envious,” I said truthfully. She had been playing with her food, mindlessly poking her fork around the plate, when she paused to meet my eyes. “I’m pretty sure I can count everything I know about magic on one hand.”
She shifted in her seat again and gave me a genuine smile. “That’s what’s so great about magic, though. You don’t need to know everything about it for it to work.”
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
Willow looked surprised. “Yeah. Sure.”
“How would someone go about...learning incantations?”
“Well, that depends.” She eyed me carefully for a moment, and this time it was me who shifted in my seat. She’d figured it out. “What is it you need to know?”
“The relocation spell incantation,” I admitted.
Willow nodded. “I’ll tell you, but I doubt you’ll need it.” I narrowed my eyes in question, but she went on to reveal it to me. “Lucem pluma est animus.”
Slowly, she let go of her fork and commanded it solely through gentle motions of her fingers. The piece of silverware continued picking at her food practically on its own.
“It’s less about procedure and more about intuition. If you can connect your mind, body, and soul to the world around you, your abilities are virtually limitless.”
I heard a scraping sound in front of us and peered curiously into the kitchen. My jaw dropped when I saw the row of top drawers pull themselves open, and all of their contents levitated half a foot into the air. I looked at Willow, and the items crashed back into the drawers as she broke her concentration away from them.
“How’d you do that?” I asked in admiration.
“I didn’t. Not by myself, anyway,” she casually replied. “You’ve been channeling yourself through me ever since the initiation, Charlie. That’s what allowed me to do a trick like that with such ease. I could have done it on my own, but not without an incantation—or, at the very least, commanding the items with my hands.” She paused, adjusting her glasses as she inspected me closely. “Don’t you see? You don’t need all that technical stuff. You already have the balance within you that most witches spend decades trying to achieve.”
Her words were still sinking in when the screen door popped open, and the others ambled inside.
“I’m starving,” Dominic loudly announced, rubbing his stomach as he strolled back into the kitchen.
“Seriously, man?” Matt asked with a snicker. “You just ate, like, half the kitchen a minute ago.”
Kinsey laughed with them as she poured herself a glass of water, and Julien slid into the empty seat across from me. I glanced over at the clock on the wall anxiously.
I didn’t know when Desmond would return, and I needed to proceed with the first step of my plan before then. I could relocate the rest of them, but no matter how far away I relocated him with this spell, he’d easily be able to follow after me. There was no way I’d be able to outrun him, either. I needed a head start.
Matt approached me quietly as the others began talking. He leaned down on one knee, so we were level. “Hey. Have you heard anything from Tempest yet?”
Redirecting my attention to the food on my plate, I shook my head. A lie was a lie, and looking away from him didn’t make it any easier.
“Huh. Wonder what she’s up to,” he mumbled with bemusement. Pulling himself back up, he let out a sigh. “Well, when she does reach out—and she will—just let me know right away. Okay? Priscilla can’t start the ritual until the full moon this evening, so we still have some time.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, standing and picking up my dish. I wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for much longer. “Okay.”
As I set my dishes in the sink, the sound of a car pulling up hit my ears. I quickly made my way to the front door and stepped outside, relieved to see Pixie and Quinn approaching.
Pixie grinned warmly and gave me a quick hug before stepping inside.
“Yum. Who’s been cooking?” she called, and Matt proudly took credit.
“Hey,” Quinn mumbled. She stepped inside with barely a glance in my direction and made her way to the living room.
Pixie was filling up a plate. I leaned in over her shoulder and poured a glass of water. “Hey.” I lowered my voice slightly. “Is Quinn all right?”
“She’s a little under the weather,” Pixie whispered, her eyes sympathetic. “I told her to get some rest, but she’s too on edge. You know...about tonight and everything. She’s really worried about you.”
Quinn was slumped up against the corner of the sofa when I approached her. The living room was quiet while the others remained in the kitchen—with the exception of Dominic and Julien, who’d already positioned themselves back on the front porch for their watch.
“Here,” I said, offering her the water.
She retrieved it and took a small sip. “Thanks.”
“Pixie told me you’re not feeling so well,” I said gently. “You can rest in my room if you want. It might help, getting away from all the noise.”
She smiled faintly, pulling her black hair away from her face.
“Look at you,” she said with a soft chortle. “You’re about to face a deranged psychopath, and you’re worried about me.” She paused, tracing her fingers lightly against the rim of her glass. “How do you do it? Stay so calm?”
“Trust me,” I said, glancing down with chagrin once more. “I’m anything but calm. Actually...I’m kind of a wreck.”
Like the others, Quinn was still assuming I was following Priscilla’s plan. She didn’t even know just how close I was about to get to Tempest. If there was any consolation to be had over the terrifying prospect of what I was about to do, facing the witch alone, it was in knowing that she, and the rest of them, would no longer have to fear for themselves.
Quinn looked up at me, her hazel eyes twinkling with a curious fascination.
“But I do think it helps. Having all of you around,” I offered. “You know, to distract me from everything for a little bit.”
She stayed quiet, and I realized it probably didn’t help to have to keep up with conversation while she was sick. Not to mention whatever had been going on with her these past couple of weeks was clearly still bothering her. Talking was likely the last thing she wanted to do right now.
I rose to my feet. Pulling one of the folded guest blankets from beneath the coffee table, I carefully laid it over her. “Try to get some rest while you can.”
I walked away, peeking nervously through the window curtain for Desmond. Where was he, anyway? What was so important that he needed to do it right now? The clock ticked forward loudly, only intensifying my anxiety. I needed to do the spell now.
An anguished cry erupted from behind me, and I raced back to the sofa to find Quinn keeled over in pain, her hands covering her
face.
“Quinn.” I kneeled down beside her, attempting to peel her resisting hands away for a glimpse. “What is it?”
Finally giving in, she let her hands fall and peered dreadfully up at me. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The ghastly blisters appearing on her face were blotchy and bubbling as they rapidly spread to her lips, with her tongue swelling.
Where in the world had that come from?
“Tempest,” Matt growled from beside me with tightening fists.
Her cries grew more tormented by the second, and I knew it was time. I glanced over at Pixie, who had rushed to Quinn’s other side, taking her hand comfortingly in her own.
“Do you think you can heal her?” I asked urgently.
When Pixie looked up at me, fear was etched onto her face. “If it’s superficial, I think so. But if we really are dealing with one of Tempest’s spells...I can’t know for sure.”
The others had all gathered closely, and Willow carefully pushed her way to the front. “I can help,” she announced. “I think I know what to do, and if you’re a strong enough healer...”
Pixie and I glanced at each other, and I was more grateful than ever for our bond.
“Trust me,” she said with determination. “My strength won’t be an issue.”
Quinn’s cries had quieted to tormented whimpers as the blisters continued to spread. I stepped back from my spot, allowing Willow to take my place. Everyone apprehensively watched, and Willow began to instruct Pixie on what to do.
It was now or never.
Closing my eyes, I tried desperately to remove myself from what was happening around me and focus only on Desmond’s house. Quinn’s soft cries gradually distanced themselves from me, and I envisioned standing on Desmond’s front porch. Putting myself there, I listened to the soothing ocean and waved a hand through the everlasting Oregonian fog. I turned the knob and stepped inside, tracing my hands along the cold marble countertops as I made my way to the deserted living room. The Home Living magazines sat untouched on the coffee table, and the hard floor was solid beneath my feet.
Slowly opening my eyes again, I imitated Priscilla’s movements, pressing my right thumb to my forehead, then straight down to my chest.
“Lucem plum–” I stopped, and I could feel the panic rise in my chest as I struggled to recall the incantation. “Lucem pluma est...”
Matt—the only one in the room who seemed to have taken notice of me—narrowed his eyes in confusion. Vague recognition flickered upon his face as he slowly realized what I was trying to do. Just as he took his first alarmed step toward me, I closed my eyes again, placing myself back at Desmond’s house.
Envisioning every detail, every color to perfection, I added each person to the vision, one by one—starting with Matt. After adding Quinn, Pixie, and Willow, I concluded with Julien, Kinsey, and Dominic. Anxiously, I let my eyes open, fully prepared to see a furious Matt in my face. But he wasn’t there. None of them were.
The living room was dead quiet. There was no one lying beneath the guest blanket, which sat crumpled on the couch, and no one to eat the unfinished food strewn about the kitchen counters and table.
I couldn’t deny the feeling of uneasiness overwhelming me in the eerie silence as I stood utterly exposed, with no one to depend on but myself for protection. Inhaling a sharp breath of air, I shook it off. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? For them to be safe, far enough away from me that they couldn’t come along?
There was only one thing that needed to be on my mind, and that was confronting—and defeating—Tempest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: WE MEET AT LAST
A storm was brewing in the heavy skies, teasing Bandon with threatening rumbles and striking swirls of darkness. The town was deserted, with closed doors and drawn curtains greeting me at every house I passed. Quinn would heal soon, and it wouldn’t take long before word reached Priscilla. But the spell had bought me enough time to get to Tempest without them on my trail. They would be enraged, I knew. But they would be safe.
The door to the shop was unlocked, yet the space felt as empty as my house. Closing the door securely behind me, I inched forward.
“Hello?” I called.
There was only silence in return. A shimmer glinted from one of the wooden coffee tables, and I made my way toward it. There, in the center of the table, sat a tiny, clear bottle wrapped delicately in twine with a golden tag reading drink me. I picked up the bottle, inspecting its grey contents. Everything inside of me screamed to run, but I forced myself to remove the corked lid regardless.
I needed to get to Tempest, and this was going to get me there. If there was any silver lining to be found, it was in knowing she needed me alive.
My hands shook as I brought the bottle to my lips, and I swallowed it whole before I could change my mind. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Everything from my fingers to my toes was in order, and I scanned the shop skeptically. It was then that I felt the subtle burning in my stomach. It branched out into my arms and legs, taking its time to consume every inch of me. The burning intensified when it hit my throat, and I threw a hand to my neck in trepidation. I took a step toward the sink for some water, but my vision blurred, and I stumbled clumsily over myself.
Within seconds, everything had gone black.
***
Dammit, Charlie. Quinn was grateful the searing blisters on her face had finally healed, but too much time had passed for her to get any sort of trail on Charlie from the shop. She should have foreseen something like this. She had to admit, the girl had balls. But Charlie also had no idea what she was getting into. She was naive and driven by emotions—a potentially fatal combination.
They had wound up in that Godforsaken vampire’s house, hours away from Bandon, with no vehicles of their own to get them back. Luckily, Priscilla had connections in the area, and it didn’t take long for a couple of them to volunteer their cars. But it still lost them precious time. Matt drove her and Pixie, while the others followed closely behind.
Quinn’s fingers fidgeted. She didn’t have much time before Tempest would pull the next stunt or summon her directly. A deal was a deal, after all, and this wicked Primary had ensured theirs was bound by blood.
She wasn’t a fool. She knew Charlie would never forgive her. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if the girl targeted her next after discovering all she had done. One thing Quinn was certain of was that hurting—or killing—the people in Charlie’s life was never supposed to be part of the arrangement.
This was the first time she hadn’t been able to go through with one of Tempest’s assignments since striking the deal, and she was punished almost instantly for it. She touched a hand to her cheek at the thought, hating that Tempest had such control over her. She realized the scope of what she was jeopardizing by aiding Tempest with her quest for the Opal, and the guilt had been killing her these past few weeks.
But how exactly was one supposed to turn down an offer to save the woman who gave her life?
“Quinn,” Pixie’s voice called from the front passenger seat. “Did you hear me?”
“What? No.”
“I was suggesting we head back to Charlie’s house first. See if we can find any trace of where she might have gone, so Priscilla has something to go off of.”
Quinn shook her head, keeping her eyes focused outside in the distance. “She went to the shop.”
“The shop?” Matt repeated doubtfully. “Why would she go there?”
Screw it. Enough was enough. She was done with Tempest’s deadly games. Besides, they were going to find out soon enough anyway, and she needed to put her knowledge to use if they were going to discover where Charlie had ended up. Tempest had three locations she shuffled between, each of them connected through underground tunnels and each of them enchanted. Now they just had to get to Priscilla and narrow down which of the three she was holding Charlie in.
“Because that’s where Tempest summoned her to.”
“What?” Pixi
e’s head snapped over her shoulder as she looked at Quinn incredulously. “When did Charlie tell you this? What exactly did she say?”
Reluctantly shifting her attention back to them, Quinn kept her voice strong and braced herself for the aftermath. “She didn’t tell me anything. Tempest did.”
***
My senses gradually returned to my body. I was relieved to find that the painful burning had subsided. My eyes struggled to focus on my surroundings when I forced them open. Candles hung unevenly along the jagged walls, providing the only light in what would otherwise be an utterly dark space. The room itself was large, uncommonly so, with a ceiling that sat much too low for comfort. Rusted metallic bars lined the wall behind me to form prison-like cages.
I thought I glimpsed someone in one of them and tried to pull myself up, when I realized to my dismay that my wrists and ankles were chained down to an old, wooden chair. Tugging firmly against the heavy chains, I winced at the raw, reddened skin beneath them.
Exactly how long had I been out?
The gentle clicking of high heels echoed through the room as a slender, middle-aged woman stepped through the doorless entryway. She was not alone, but I didn’t recognize the faces of those who trailed in behind her. The woman’s mousy brown hair was straight as a pin and cut evenly above her shoulders. She had a striking heart-shaped face, with wide, honey-colored eyes that lit up at the sight of me.
“Charlotte, darling!” she sang, grinning with delight. She leaned forward, ignoring my stiffening body as she gave me two air kisses, one beside each cheek. “I am beyond thrilled you decided to join me.” Pausing to point at the chains, she wrinkled her nose in disgust and lowered her voice. “I have to apologize for the whole ‘dungeon and chains’ thing—so barbaric and outdated. Just a precaution. I’m sure you can understand,” she said, waving a dismissive hand through the air.
My eyes were cold as I watched her scrupulously, and my voice was riddled with disdain. “Don’t mistake my presence for joining you.”
“Now, now,” she chided. “Let’s not be hasty. We hardly know each other, after all.” Pulling up a chair identical to mine, she took a seat several feet across from me.