Magically Bonded
Page 16
“You need to go with dad. Weaken Vernon. I’ll do the rest.”
Her nod made me straighten my spine. She didn’t question whether I could do it. In fact, she took my word for it. That was crazy. She shouldn’t trust me, I wouldn’t.
Planting my feet firmly on the ground, I held the handle of my dagger with both hands. The blade pointed downwards as I tried something new. The air around me intensified as Vernon’s crazy assault started to expand. He stood, his head thrown back and his arms spread wide. He had completely lost it.
“Okay,” I whispered, suddenly wishing Kingsley and Gerard were there to support me. “Come on mother earth.”
Closing my eyes, I shut out the chanting of my mum. Her Essex powers would probably lend us a lot more magic than I’d realised.
Concentrating on the earth beneath my feet, I bent down and placed the tip of the dagger against the hard ground. A zap of energy flung into the silver, making me gasp. Yes, I could do it.
Instead of drawing the magic up through my body, I would bring my warlock power straight into the blade. That way, it couldn’t strip me of my witch magic.
Opening my eyes when my hands jerked, I bit back a smile. I’d done it. The whole dagger was covered in yellow flames. I was ready.
“Let’s do this.”
Standing stock still, I held up the dagger and got ready to throw. My mother was on Vernon’s left, and my father on his right. A stream of white magic spurted from my dad’s hand. What the…? It went straight into Vernon’s chest, sinking into his skin.
My mother then flicked her wrist, sending the funnel of magic flying into its owner. Vernon crashed against the wall, the force of his own magic pinning him. Now, it was my turn.
My arm muscles tensed as I flung the dagger towards my target. Vernon laughed as he brought his head forward and stared at me. The dagger stopped just before it hit his face. No!
“Kevin Jinx, your daughter is someone to be reckoned with. But, I’ll still kill her.”
My boots thumped against the floor as I ran straight for the warlock. The shock on my mother’s face made me grin. She looked impressed. And, so she should be. I was Devon Jinx. Half witch, half warlock.
“Careful!” My father shouted as the dagger flipped.
The wind was strong, my body slow. It felt like I was moving through mud, and yet, I pushed through. He would not win. I still had too much to do.
Dodging to the side, I watched as my dagger flew into the stone wall. And dug itself deep. Hum. Maybe I should’ve listened to Gerard when he suggested I lift weights.
“Devon, go!” My mother shouted.
They were still using Vernon’s magic against him. His whole body was shuddering against the wall on the opposite side of the room, but his fingers were working loose. Once he was free, we were all dead.
“Thanks, Mum!”
It took me three leaps as I almost ran straight into the wall. My fingers wrapped around the handle of the dagger, the magic in it almost burning my palm. Oh, my power was good. Almost too good.
“Duck!” I shouted as I wrenched the loosened blade from the wall.
Spinning, I launched the dagger to my left, hoping the momentum would bring it round full circle. My father dropped to the floor as the funnel of wind snatched the blade, sending it slicing straight through Vernon’s neck, the flames exploding in his face.
My mother ducked as it carried on, smacking straight into the stone beside my head. Shit, that was close.
As the magic in the room dropped, so did I. My knees couldn’t hold me any longer. I had used all of my magic and borrowed some too.
“Devon,” my mother called, coming straight over. “You did it!”
They were by my side, holding me, crying against me. I let the tears stream from my face as the two people who had brought me into the world held me against them. My heart exploded in my chest as my world crumpled around me.
“Is everyone okay?” Kurt’s bellow made us pull apart.
He thundered into the room, followed by Justina. I gripped my father as he lugged me to my feet. Gerard…
“Is she okay?” His deep voice was weak, but it was there.
He came into the room, supported by Maxwell. The others were checking that Vernon was dead. Which he was. Thanks to me.
The corner of Gerard’s lip lifted into his cheek when he spotted me. He heaved a sigh of relief and then promptly sat on the bottom step of the stairs he’d just negotiated. He had literally come to check on me.
“Well done,” Kurt said coming over. “Who are you?”
Laughter bubbled in my chest as my parents frowned, obviously affronted by Kurt’s blunt manner.
“These are my parents,” I introduced them, grinning like an idiot.
My chest swelled as I looked around at my team. They were covered in blood as they surveyed the area, making sure we were safe. Gerard watched me, pain etched into his features. A small smile danced on his lips. He was happy. Which made me happy.
Justina came over, her hands planted firmly on her hips. Okay, her composure wasn’t as welcoming as I’d expected. In fact, Kurt’s gaze also narrowed on the people I had lost.
“What’s going on?”
Reaching unconsciously for my mum when Justina bit the inside of her cheek, I almost blocked my ears. For some reason, I knew that whatever she was about to say wasn’t going to make me jump for joy. Or, even for shit. Nope, it was going to be much, much worse.
“Devon, I think your parents forgot to mention one very important detail.” Justina’s glare was lethal. Shit, it was bad.
“What’s that?” My question was tentative, almost inaudible.
Releasing her breath, Justina crossed her arms over her waist, her ire aimed directly at my parents. “They failed to tell you that your grandmother is the one who’s kidnapping the witches. She’s the leader of the witch slave trade.”
Want to know what happens next?
Book 3 – Magically Betrayed
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Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Rachel Medhurst
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Published in 2017
Author
Rachel Medhurst grew up in Surrey, England. She writes to prove that no matter where you come from, you can be anything you want to be. Your past may shape you but it doesn't define you. When Rachel isn't writing, she can be found reading and walking in nature.
www.rachelmedhurst.com