Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2)

by Michael Weekly

  Dawn leans over, looking at my forehead. She moves the hoodie from my head, her eyes wide in shock. I sigh as she steps back.

  “Or that,” she says.

  Something is moving upstairs. The windows vibrate, the glass rattling. My emotions overwhelm me once more, and the tips of my fingers are cold.

  “Donovan,” I say, “I sense a presence here…I can’t explain it.”

  He takes out his broomstick; I pull out mine from my pocket as well. We press our red buttons. Donovan’s broomstick’s metal scrapes, morphing into a longer bar with two daggers on the end. I grasp my weapon’s handle, seeing its light purple blade slide out of the opening.

  The house is silent except for an eerie tick. The tick that ticks in the back of your head. You start to think everything is a monster. The shadows on the wall, the dark figures of chairs, the hairs on your arm prick up, and the air thickens. Every sound is something out to get you, to kill you…to drive you crazy.

  Dawn walks over to the stairs and turns to look at us. “Seriously not a single light works in here, guys. What happened here?” Dawn flicks the light switch on and off.

  Dark rugged claws appear and snatch Dawn’s neck. Blood sprays from her neck onto the floor as yellow eyes stare at us in the darkness from the stairs. Red eyes then appear next to the yellow ones. Dawn drops to the foot of the stairs, screaming in pain. She is then dragged up the steps into the darkness.

  Chapter 23

  Donovan’s broomstick clicks on. I grip on the leather of his jacket, staring up at the shadows in front of us. He leaps for the stairway.

  “Donovan, don’t!”

  I race after him. Dawn is screaming, her legs still kicking the wooden stairs. Donovan raises his broomstick and presses the button, forming a long dagger.

  He is pushed back by a force, his body flying through the air. I raise up my hands and try to block his fall, he crashes against me, and we both are shoved against the wall.

  “Donovan, watch out!” I scream.

  The monster’s brown skin glimmers in the darkness. His red eyes drip blood, fangs protruding over his bottom lip. His thick red hair is tangled, and his nails are coated black. Red markings trace his skin. His body is covered in leather material. He runs toward us, his black boots thudding against the hardwood floor. Donovan and I tumble to the side. I grab his broomstick but my hand stings and I immediately drop it. Donovan takes the broomstick and turns it into a sword, watching the monster approach us.

  “Donovan, what do we do?” I huff and puff, focusing on keeping my breathing under control.

  “Nothing. Vamps can’t be killed.”

  “That can’t be true,” I argue.

  The vampire scratches his claws in the air, aiming for Donovan’s face. He is blocked by a long silver sword that Donovan lays across his face. His crystal blue eyes reflect light from the sword’s blade, and thick saliva falls onto his jacket. I brace myself for the next attack, but Donavan knees the vampire’s stomach. He manages to wrap his hands around Donovan’s neck. His skin sizzling from the mystic’s touch, he kicks frantically. The vamp lifts him up and throws him against the bookshelf in the living room.

  The mystic stares, his red glare flashing at me. I can’t move. I feel paralyzed and I’m becoming jittery. I scan the vampire’s body. There’s a glowing object around his middle finger. A mood ring.

  I wonder if that’s what Jared was talking about.

  My mother always kept the mood ring hidden for some reason back at home. I wasn’t interested in the ring to begin with, so it didn’t mean much to me.

  Dawn is screaming upstairs; I know she’s afraid. I pick up a pot, and before the mystic can do anything I bash his face with the metal pan. His neck snaps to the left, then a silver whip slithers around him, pulling him away from me.

  Donovan yells, “Get out of here, Rose. Now!”

  “I need to get Dawn!”

  The vampire struggles to free himself, grunting while the whip shocks him. He brings his hands over his back and pulls Donovan out of position, throwing him up to the ceiling. I step forward, but the vampire’s eyes lock onto me. I immediately step back in fear.

  There has to be a way to kill him.

  He slashes his claws, aiming for my face. I duck, dodging his blows. I manage to kick him and he falls on his face. I leap over and stand still, looking at Donovan now on the floor, and then to the stairs.

  “Don’t,” Donovan coughs.

  I dart for the shadowed stairs to save my friend. The vampire claws my leg, pulling me back, tripping me. I land hard on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. I’m in his burning grip, being pulled along the wood floor. Donovan jumps in and punches the vampire in the face. I know that I have to get the mood ring from his finger. If Jared had anything to say about it, then I know it must be important to get. I have to save Dawn before it’s too late. The vampire stumbles into the kitchen, and Donovan gets ready to go after him.

  “Donovan! I need to get the ring that’s on his finger!”

  “What ring?” Donovan walks in front of me.

  “Don’t get in my way.” I step aside.

  The house is quiet until we hear glass shattering upstairs. Worst part is, I don’t hear Dawn anymore. I know I’m going to lose it. My heart races in fear that she may not be alive. I don’t know why, but I need the ring. It isn’t a want; I need it.

  The vampire leaps from behind cover, but Donovan manages to get him on the floor, shoving his knee against his throat.

  The vampire’s laugh is villainous. “Stupid witch…” he gurgles

  He needs to die. Only thing is, we don’t know how to kill a vampire, or at least I don’t.

  “Do you have any idea how to kill it?” I ask.

  Donovan’s jaws are clenched, and he’s trying to hold the mystic in place. He clicks his broomstick and it turns into a dagger. He then shifts his knee and brings his weapon down, aiming for the vampire’s heart.

  The dagger cuts deeply, penetrating the mystic’s chest. I hear the bones crack. The mystic stops moving, then laughs again. He kicks Donovan in the stomach, the ring from his finger falling onto the floor. The vampire gets up. He cracks his knuckles and glares at me.

  I dart for the ring.

  The vampire leaps into the air, so high he hovers above me. He grabs me by the hair, but I am aware that he was going to do this. I hold onto his wrist and snap it, cracking his bone. We fall onto the floor together. I roll to my left and kick his face so hard he won’t get back up. The mystic groans in pain, shocked that I did this.

  I pick up the ring, feeling a freezing sensation flow throughout my entire body. The sensation feels overwhelmingly good, and energy flows within me.

  I place the ring on my finger before anyone can stop me.

  My hair feels like it’s burning; goose bumps travel along my skin. My witch arm is heated, its silver markings glowing in the darkness.

  I know what to do from here.

  I pull out my broomstick, and it doesn’t burn me. I click it. The bristles fly outward, forming into a light purple dagger. Donovan and the vampire are wrestling. They’re ripping my house apart. They smash into my bookcase, cracking the wood. Donovan ends up on top of the vampire, the mystic’s red eyes glaring up at him. Donovan keeps pushing his face, but it is no use; the vampire continues to laugh.

  Donovan takes his dagger and stabs it into the mystic once more. I walk over to him and push Donovan against the scattered books.

  “I told you to get out of my way.”

  Donovan tries to get up and take control of the vampire. I take his wrist and force him to the floor.

  “Don’t get in my way,” I snap.

  I know the vampire is planning to get back up, so I place my boot on his chest to shove him back down. The vampire grunts, and for the first time he looks afraid. His laughter and amusement stops. He starts to tremble.

  I tilt my head to the side. “What’s wrong? You aren’t laughing.”

  The vampir
e’s hellish eyes stare up at me.

  “I want you to laugh.”

  I bare my teeth.

  “I said laugh!”

  I grip my dagger’s handle and glance down at the glowing green markings on my forearm. I slice the mystic’s throat. Blood trickles down and drips on his chest. The vampire releases a screech, causing me to flinch.

  Donovan touches my shoulder, and I push him away from me. He flies across the room and collides with a wall. I turn back to the frightened mystic.

  “You know what happens to stubborn mystical creatures like yourself?” I glance down at the puddle of blood on his muscled chest. I take the tip of my dagger, smearing his blood across his chest until I make a perfect circle.

  “You’re doing great. Now make the X, my love.” Christian’s voice rings in my thoughts.

  The vampire starts to shake uncontrollably; he’s nervous. I take the tip of my dagger, and with the leftover blood on his chest I draw an oversized ‘X’ in the circle I made.

  “They die like every other pathetic creature that walks this Earth.” I hold my dagger in the air and force it down, piercing the middle of the x. The sound of ice crackling inside him shifts my blade. Orange burn marks form around the shape I drew on his chest and start to glow. Vibrations rumble up to the tips of my fingers. My jaw clenches, and the ends of my hair are sizzling. The ring lights up my house.

  The vampire looks up at me. “You passed the test, my queen.”

  “You passed the test, my love,” Christian’s voice rings.

  His bones crack, his skin moistens, and he is then liquefied into a puddle of red blood. I glance at the hair over my shoulder. It fades from blonde back to its normal auburn shade.

  Chapter 24

  My knees are in the middle of the puddled blood. Thick liquid soaks through my pants. The blade in my hand retracts into its broomstick and the ring around my finger stops glowing.

  I hear footsteps. The place I’ve once called home is now haunted. I vanquished a vampire, without knowing how to do it. It felt like second nature to me. Someone other than who I am was controlling my actions, how I felt, and how I thought.

  Telepathic thoughts raced through my mind; I felt Christian’s presence.

  I close my eyes to try and channel the energy back, my efforts only resulting in a headache. I clench my broomstick. The metal makes its scraping sound and my weapon warms up, forming back into its bar shape. I take off my father’s mood ring, holding it in my hand. The ends of my hair freeze. I lift up a strand in front of my eyes, seeing it fading back into blonde. I pull more hair from around my shoulders, seeing my hair dye itself. I feel like a tiny bug flew inside my eye. I rub my face and feel my left arm freezing from the markings on it.

  My hand which holds my broomstick is burnt.

  “Shit.” I drop my weapon to the floor.

  The boot steps thud against the floor as they walk toward me.

  “Stay away from me.” It was hard to get these words out, like something was forcing me not to talk. I become irritated. I know Donovan is behind me.

  “Rose…?”

  “My name is Eliza.” I get up from the puddle of blood and turn around. Donovan’s gaze is weary; he holds his broomstick close to his thigh. We break eye contact and I place the ring back on my ring finger, feeling my hair burn into its auburn color. I pick up my broomstick and return it to my belt, grab my bag, and run upstairs.

  “Your hair turns colors now? Some sort of myth thing?”

  I ignore him.

  Donovan is cussing, following me up the stairs.

  “You’re going to kill a vampire, a rare mystic that no one knows how to vanquish?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Who the hell are you? You’re not Rose.”

  “That’s right—I’m Eliza. The Killer Elf.”

  I walk into my room to see glass shattered across my floor. My door creaks; I twirl around and aim my broomstick’s pointed bristles at Donovan’s neck.

  “You seriously want to be the next one vanquished here, huh?” I snap.

  He glances at my ring and then at me. “Your tone is different. Everything about you is different. What have you become?”

  “I didn’t become anything. I was always an elf.”

  “I was always a Verel. I can say the same.”

  “No you can’t.” We look at each other for a minute or two, then I lower my broomstick.

  “Why can’t I?” He crosses his arms.

  “Because, you lied to me the entire time like your brother did. I also find out that you’re working with him, and that makes me even angrier.” I advance on him, crooking my neck to the right. “I was trying to trust you, trying to trust someone. My mother lies to me my entire life; my brother is a cat. Seriously, who else wants to lie to me? I’m the main target here.”

  Donovan doesn’t say anything. I hold back my tears and search for the grimoire my mother gave me. The book is the only thing that can possibly give me the answers I need, something I can read through for the truth. I walk toward my bed. Even after learning I possess some weird myth skill now, ‘astral projection’ Mellissa calls it, that doesn’t help with finding the answers I need if I’m going to randomly go into trances.

  “Donovan, when we first met, we tried to kill each other. I can only imagine what will happen—” I find my grimoire under my bed; there’s dust all over it. I hold it against my chest, sensing Donovan extremely close to me now.

  “You have so many thorns about you, so many things you want to hide from me.”

  “You need to calm down and take the time to hear me out for once, Rose. I’m not trying to be the jackass you claim I am.” He reaches for my hand, but I avoid his. “Every rose needs the rain sometimes.”

  I look up at his defined jaw and his piercing glare.

  “You’re a Verel, one who teams up with female witches and pure mystics to corrupt the world. A member who belongs in Ravamere. A member—”

  “A member who doesn’t want to walk down his father’s path.” Donovan takes my hand and places it against his warm chest. “A Verel who has to choose between death or family tradition, who has to mask who he truly is for his gang. You don’t know who I am, Rose, but you’re judging me by my last name and family.” He glances down at my hand on his chest. “Feel that? It’s my heart…hey, look at me.” His thumb grazes underneath my chin, guiding me to look up. He leans in closer. “Do you think I’m going to corrupt you?”

  “My grimoire says the Verel use witches…” I search his face for the truth, because I’ve seen it myself when I projected back in time, to when the Verel took my brother. There are so many questions still unanswered. I want to believe Donovan so badly. “Why should I trust you when everyone who’s been around me does nothing but lie?”

  He isn’t coming off as the uptight Donovan I’m usually around. When he saw me walk into the holding cell back in Ellevil he looked so relieved that I was alive. He may not have shown it completely, but being half elf now, I can feel it. I’ve changed since then.

  “You’re right, I can’t make you trust me; I can’t make you believe that I’m not out to hurt you.” His words are so warm. The sound of his deep velvety voice and the way he’s looking at me now…it’s pulling me in to him. I remember him holding onto my hands from his prison cell, and when I came back after the storm, showing him who I really was. He didn’t judge me. At first I’m sure it freaked him out, but he didn’t act any differently.

  “I do know I can show you more than I can tell you, Rose.” I let Donovan hold my hand, his cold skin brushing against mine. Then my witch arm lights up, its silver colors burning me.

  I let go of his hand. “I need to protect myself.”

  I walk toward my window, where Jare usually sits on the shelf. My grin fades away when I realize my brother was fighting a mystic. I look out the window’s broken frame. Footsteps from the mud are printed along the road. I don’t only see glass in my room, but on the tips of the broke
n shards are blood.

  Dawn.

  Scattered shards are still stuck in the cracks of the frame. Taking off my mood ring, I place my grimoire in my bag. Donovan’s hand is on my shoulder. I snap my neck back, my eyes freeze and their green glare reflects in his eyes. The roots of my hair begin to freeze, fading back into blonde. I’m guessing this mood ring really does alter the myth within. When I don’t have it on my hair is blonde. When I do it’s auburn, but I feel the same. At any time anything can trigger me, and I’ll snap like I did with that vampire on the stairs. I’ll lose focus and believe I’m hearing voices. Donovan’s hand burns against my shoulder and I flinch.

  “Please don’t…I don’t have time for this.” I hold back my growl and say, “I need to find Dawn.”

  I punch the remaining shards of glass from the window with my bare hands. The cuts on my hand crystalize, healing themselves.

  “Well that’s definitely not witch-like,” Donovan says.

  I stick my head out, looking down at the ground. I step away from my window and then run back toward it, leaping out of my room. I land on the ground on one knee and one palm. I place my ring back on and my eyes defrost.

  I glance up at Donovan. I know he finds this strange. He turns away from the window and comes out of the door in five seconds.

  “You couldn’t use the door?” he asks.

  “Mystics make dramatic exits.” The muddy footsteps lead down a sidewalk. Donovan and I cross the street and walk down the sidewalk, following the steps.

  “Why did Eric and Tori break into Ellevil?” I ask.

  Donovan hesitates to answer, but he holds on to my hand. “You always flinch when I touch you, but now you aren’t. Why is that?”

  “Are we trying to be honest with each other?”

  “You can say that.”

  “Well, for some reason, when my elf side takes over, your touch burns me.”

  We pass a couple holding each other’s waists, and there’s music coming from a classy black and white lounge. Tall, skinny people are holding martinis and chatting about art.

  “You flinched before you found out you were half elf, Rose.” We stopped walking for a moment. “Maybe we should kiss to see what happens again.”