by Gina LaManna
“No, Bartholomew, I mean it. I need your help. Something bad has happened to Belinda.”
His flawless face turned downward in a frown. “But I just saw her.”
“Last night. She’s being controlled by the leader of The Faction.”
“Oh, dear.” Bartholomew took out a perfume bottle. “I was hoping you’d stop talking about this, but since I can’t seem to keep you quiet…I’m sorry, Lily.”
“Sorry for what?”
Raising a hand, he extended a pink colored bottle and spritzed once in my face. By the time he spritzed a second time, the room swirled, and I spiraled into the darkness.
“YOU’VE GOT TWELVE MINUTES.” A voice hissed in my ear. “Move. Quickly.”
Groggily, I rolled over and pulled myself to my feet. “What? Where am I?”
Belinda’s face hovered above mine. Behind her, an odd-looking man stood near her shoulder.
“We’ve got you twelve minutes,” Belinda said, eyeing me with urgency. “Bartholomew had to spritz you to keep you from talking. We both need to get out of here. There’s no time to explain further—we need to move.”
“Hurry where?” I couldn’t get my brain to process correctly. My head slumped into my hands. “I’m so foggy.”
“I shouldn’t have spritzed a second time,” Bartholomew said. “Sorry about that.”
“Wait a minute…” I looked at him. “You lied to me?”
“Through my teeth,” he said, eyes flashing as he glanced behind him. “I’ve been captured, too. I need to get away; my human clients need me. I have a wedding to get to for crying out loud.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“They were listening!” Bartholomew waved his hands. “I’ve been working with Belinda this whole time. We’ll answer the rest of your questions later.”
“I’m not leaving without my cousin and the others.”
“Where do you think we brought you?” Bartholomew asked, gesturing toward an empty food trolley. “Sorry we had to knock you out, but you didn’t seem to want to stop talking, and we couldn’t wander openly with you through the halls.”
“So, you stashed me in a food tray?”
“We couldn’t take any risks,” Belinda said. “We know where he’s keeping your cousin. If you follow this passageway, you’ll find the prison cells.”
“You have ten minutes before the guards will begin their next rounds,” Bartholomew added. “You must hurry.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“I’m sorry.” Belinda pursed her lips. “We can’t. We’re risking detection already by coming to this part of the castle. We need to go, Lily. Will you be okay?”
“Yes,” I gargled, but they were already rushing away.
Still foggy from Bartholomew’s spritz, I stumbled through the door they’d indicated and down a dim hallway, the walls damp with moisture, the floor covered in a thin layer of grime and dirt.
I located a torch on the wall and brought it with me, pressing onward despite my confusion.
As the fog evaporated and my task solidified in my head, I quickened my pace, rounding one corner after another, the quiet drip, drip of condensation on the walls leaving me with eerie tingles shimmering down my spine.
I rounded a curve, then came face to face with a stone wall. The material was a grimy yellow, almost golden brown, and had no keyhole. There was, however, an outline in the shape of a door and magic shimmering along the outside. I leaned in, feeling for any hint of spell, any familiarity that might help me to crack it.
The spell itself felt harmless, not a touch of dark magic inside of it. Frowning, I rested my hands against the door, waiting for any sort of pushback. Nothing.
In fact, the slight crunch of stone against stone sounded, and the door gradually slid open to reveal another passage. Stepping through, I glanced behind me as the door began to close. That’s when I understood—the spell wasn’t dangerous…unless I was on the inside. It was a one-way portal, and I’d just entered a passage with no return.
It hadn’t locked yet, and as it began to swing closed, I pulled my sweater off and shoved it between the door and its frame. I could feel the spell sizzling with heat. Hopefully, it’d give me enough of an opening to latch onto during my return journey.
Then, because I had no other choice, I marched onward.
The hallway grew narrower, darker, smaller. By the time light shone in the distance, I could barely squeeze through the passageway. Claustrophobia set in, and it took every piece of willpower to control my breathing.
The light in the distance grew nearer—three feet away, and then two. One foot from the light. Suddenly, I reached it. The bright little halo danced at my feet, the result of an opening in the stone above my head just barely as wide as my shoulders.
I had two choices. I was either going up and toward the light, or back the way I’d come. There was no other way forward. The thought of going up had my chest constricting in fear. If I got stuck, nobody would find me. Yet, if I wanted to locate Poppy, there was no other choice.
Holding my breath, I reached one arm up through the hole toward the light, and then the other. My hands grasped for traction on a sandy surface.
I pulled up to my elbows, then backed down. I wouldn’t be able to fit through there. Not unless I turned into a gymnast and lost half of my body weight.
But one more try wouldn’t hurt before giving up, I figured, so I reached my hands up again. This time, my head made it through, then my shoulders. Pulling myself up, I inched my body into the opening, struggling to keep my breath from spiraling out of control and my heart from racing.
Another inch up. Then another.
Then, a touch froze me in place.
A hand on my ankle, cold and firm. The fingers were rough, and the strength with which the figure pulled had me thinking it was a man.
“Don’t scream,” he warned, confirming my theory. “Don’t you dare make a sound, Lily.”
He yanked harder as I struggled against him, but my balance was completely off, and in two tugs, my body fell through to the grimy floor of the cave.
I collapsed as a hand clasped over my mouth, silencing my screams.
The figure—most definitely a man—dragged me out of the sunlight and knelt next to me in the darkness of the cave. To my surprise, he murmured an apology in my ear.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, running a hand along my shoulders as if checking for injuries.
I sat up, taking in the scratches along my arms and legs from the rough rock edges. My body stung, my heart pulsed, and yet, a sense of calm fell over me. I blinked as a shadow of his face came into view. Then I squinted, realizing I recognized the man. “Peter?”
I leaned closer, repeating his name quietly as I studied his face in the dim light. Familiar features came slowly into focus, and sure enough, he nodded.
“I’m sorry to be so rough on you, but I couldn’t have you yelling. He might hear you.”
“Peter, I’m so sorry!” My breath came in ragged gulps, my fear, my hate of this dark and grimy cave coming out in a hiss. “I should’ve believed you. I should’ve listened, and now…you’re here.”
“You came for me, for us.”
“Is everyone else here, too?” A niggling sensation in the back of my head pestered until Zin’s theory came rushing to me, and I briefly wondered if I’d misinterpreted Peter; if he could be involved in this whole thing. “You’re not part of this, are you?”
“Of The Faction? No, of course not,” he said, quickly. The excitement in his eyes was too true to fake. “But can you imagine the story I’ll have when I return to The Isle? A first-person account! I couldn’t have asked for a better end to this story. I predicted my own kidnapping, and I was right. Nobody can ever doubt me again.”
“Let’s focus on getting everyone home. Where’s Poppy? Manuel? Jonathon—”
“We’re all kept in the cells,” he said. “Mine has a loose bar, so I can slip in and out.
We heard you creeping by. The cells are right here.”
Peter raised a hand and knocked on the rock wall.
“Cells? As in, jail cells?”
“Most of us are unharmed—”
“All of you should be unharmed,” I corrected. “I discovered that the curse protects us from any of them. The Faction, the people who secured the curse over Wishery.”
“Unharmed physically, maybe.”
“Physically? What is that supposed to mean?”
“Come with me. Quietly. I’ll bring you to Manuel. He’s been here longer than me. Jonathon will want to talk to you, too, and Drew. Jon’s been working on a plan.”
“And Poppy?”
He hesitated. “She’s…”
“Where’s Poppy?” My hands linked onto his shoulders as I shook him hard. “Where is she?”
“She’s here, too. Come and see for yourself.”
Dread filled me, my stomach, every inch of my limbs as we crawled and hobbled our way through a different side path. I had missed the pitch-black opening on my first pass through the tunnel, and only now with the help of the guide, could I make out the edges of the entrance.
“Are any of them around?” I asked. “Guards on duty, or anything?”
“They’re all getting ready for the gala. We have at least ten minutes. I don’t know how much longer they’ll give us before they retrieve us. We’re required to attend the gala.”
“Aren’t you prisoners?”
“Of course, but we have to honor him…and you.” He glanced over at me. “Speaking of which, I’d really love an exclusive interview after this is all over.”
“First, let’s get out of here. Alive.”
“Here we are,” he said, rounding a corner. “Poppy’s in a different wing with Magdalena—men and women separated. Jonathon, Drew, Manuel? Lily’s here.”
“The Mixologist?” Manuel asked. “Lily Locke?”
“I told you she’d come,” Peter said sounding cross. “Why does nobody ever believe me?”
“Because you report on UFOs,” Jonathon said with a wry smile. “Hi, I’m Jon. Pleasure to meet you.”
Jon reached a hand through the bars of his cell. The entire hallway had been carved from stone, the individual alcoves chiseled out with blunt force. It’d take powerful magic to break out of here.
I clasped Jon’s hand and shook it. I sized him up, pairing him with the image of his mother, who’d very clearly seen Jon as the ugly duckling of the family. From my assessment, they couldn’t be more different from one another.
He’d been locked up the longest, and it showed. He had an unkempt beard, straggly hair, and a ruddy complexion despite his wiry frame. Underneath the grime, however, his smile shone bright.
“I would’ve cleaned up had I known you were coming,” he said, teasing with another grin. “By the way, Peter has been talking about you nonstop. We thought for a minute that he had a thing for you.”
“I told you she was the only one with any hope of finding us!” Peter growled, his face turning red. He whirled to face me. “You got the map from Sophie?”
“You could’ve hidden the key in an easier spot,” I said, with a grudging smile. “But we figured it out, and now we need to break you out of here.”
“We have the start of a plan,” Jon said, after Manuel and the others had introduced themselves. “But we’re missing a few things.”
“What sort of things?”
“A map,” Jon said. “The route out of this place. We were all brought here with no memory of how we arrived. Then, if we make it out of this place, we’ll need a way to get home.”
“When we make it out of this place,” I said. “What about the rest of the plan?”
“That’s all we’ve got.” Manuel shook his head. “They’ve taken everything from us. And we’re the best-off out of everyone.”
“The best-off? Where is Poppy? What’s wrong with her?!”
“Lily,” Peter said. “Focus on our plan. Do you have any thoughts on how to get us out of here?”
I hesitated, took a breath. “I do have one idea that could work, but we would have to act now. Today. At the gala. If we can cause a distraction, I will provide a way out of this city when its time. It’s risky, but it’s the only chance we’ve got.”
“It’s not enough time,” Manuel said. “We don’t have—”
“I agree with Lily,” Peter said. “We’re moving today with one caveat.”
I turned to face him. “What?”
“I won’t be leaving.”
The rest of the men studied him with disbelief. Someone murmured, “Excuse me?”
“There are more people here than we can rescue in one day,” Peter explained. “The Isle disappearances are just a fraction of the folks they have captured. We can’t rescue everyone today. I’m going to stay behind with the others. Just promise you’ll come back for us.”
“No.” I gave a hard shake of my head. “I’m not leaving anyone behind.”
“You must,” Peter said. “But you’ll come back for us. Spread the word. Bring the Rangers, MAGIC, Inc. Everyone. Whatever you do, don’t stay back, Lily. The Isle needs you there more than we do here.”
“But—”
“There’s no hope for the rest of us if you stay,” he said firmly. “I’m volunteering to stay behind. Look at it this way—there is no way you can wipe out The Faction alone. So, let me stay, and you’ll have an inside source. Work with the rest of the teams once you return, and formulate a plan to end everything—for good.”
I swallowed, struggling to find a way to convince Peter his plan couldn’t work.
“About that distraction,” Peter said. “I have an idea.”
Peter waited until the rest of us studied one another, silently taking a poll on his plan. One by one, we grudgingly turned our attention back to Peter. Jonathon was last.
“Well?” Jon said finally. “Let’s hear it.”
Chapter 30
PETER LAID OUT HIS surprisingly well-developed plan. As I thought about it, I found myself nodding along with him. Manuel agreed, too, then Jonathon and Drew.
“This might work,” Jonathon said, tapping his fingers against the bars of his cell. “I think we have what we need. I’m looking forward to seeing you on the outside, Lily.”
“Thank you,” Manuel said, while Drew nodded in agreement. “We owe you, Peter.”
I cleared my throat, still struggling with the idea of willingly leaving Peter behind in enemy territory. “Where is Poppy?”
“There’s no time. The guards will be returning,” Peter said. “We’ll get her to you outside, I promise.”
“Now,” I said. “Or this plan isn’t happening.”
Jonathon nodded at Peter, who bowed his head in agreement. After a round of goodbyes with the men, I followed Peter to another wing of the underground tunnels.
We continued forward, rounding a bend, keeping quiet and low to the ground. When I finally stood and faced the next hallway, I exhaled, tears pricking my eyes.
“Poppy,” I whispered, relieved to see her unharmed. “It’s me. We’re going to get you out of there. I’m so sorry about everything. I just—”
Poppy turned to me, her eyes wide, a curious smile on her lips. “Hello,” she said, a lyrical lilt to her voice. “Who are you?”
I turned to Peter. My blood boiled. Lava coursed in my veins as my eyes narrowed on him. “What has happened to her?”
“Go!” Peter hissed urgently. “They’re coming. They can’t find you here. You have to leave.”
“But Poppy!”
“You have to go. We’ll get Poppy home.”
The cat and mouse chase had begun. With a gut-wrenching ache, I let Peter pull me away from Poppy, my fingers lingering behind on the bars of her cage. Her disposition was polite and bubbly as usual, but the love in her eyes was gone. She hadn’t recognized me.
Peter led me through a series of tunnels. He knew his way around, and I assumed he’d been
combing through these passages since he’d been held here. He paused now and again to help me through difficult places, knowing exactly where boulders had fallen and ceilings hung low.
Footsteps gained on us, and we continued moving deeper into the castle. Every time we’d seem to get ahead, however, there’d be a moment of silence, and then…the pounding of feet, closer and closer.
“What happened to Poppy?” I demanded as we hurtled through a black tunnel in silence, save for our gasps of air. “Why was she talking like that? Why’d she ask who I am?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” Peter extended a hand, hauling me around a tight curve. “Something happened. Her memory is wiped completely.”
I stilled. “How could that have happened?”
“Lily, we can’t stop. They’re coming for us. We have to get you to safety.”
“But Poppy—”
“I don’t know. It happened before I arrived here, and I’m assuming it’s a reaction to strong blood magic. There are a few other prisoners here with memory issues, and most say it’s because they rebelled somehow, fought back against him.”
“Poppy isn’t susceptible to blood magic. She’s a vampire.”
The footsteps grew closer. “He is very powerful. Maybe she didn’t fall under the spell of blood magic, but it scrambled her mind. Come on, Lily. Move.”
“We can’t leave her here.”
“We’ll all be trapped if you don’t move. Go,” he said, glancing behind him. “They’re catching up. I’m going to let them find me.”
“You can’t, Peter! We need you later at the gala! What about the distraction?”
“I’ll escape.”
“You won’t be able to escape once they find you free! Come with me.”
He shook his head, a thin glint of resignation in his eyes. “You need to get to the door up there. The guard password is Open Sesame.”
“You’re joking.”
“Go.”
“Wait!” I fished around in my travel belt for one of the vials of Long Isle Iced Tea that I’d tucked there, and I pushed it into Peter’s hands.
“What is this?” Peter asked as he clasped the vial. “I don’t have time—”