by Lana Melyan
We stood in silence for a few moments.
“This wasn’t his first time in jail. The first time . . . there was a man with him,” Connie murmured, her eyes still closed. She paused for a few seconds. “Guys, that man was the one who—”
“You bitch.” Murphy jerked his head.
Growling, Logan sank his fingers deep into Murphy’s throat, choking him. Murphy wheezed. He threw his hand up to grab Connie’s arm. Connie bounced back, and Nate took a step, but Logan had already caught Murphy’s wrist and twisted it. The broken palm hung down.
“Next time it will be your head,” said Logan calmly. Keeping his hand on Murphy’s throat, he loosened his grip enough for Murphy to gulp some air.
“That man was a warlock,” said Connie, looking first at me, then at Nate. “He’s the one who told Murphy everything. Let me try again.” Connie closed her eyes. “Murphy contacted the warlock after he got out of jail the first time. When he found out he’s a Callahan, he contacted him again.” Connie’s eyes flew open. “Check his phone.”
Logan tightened his grip, and Nate searched for a phone. A moment later he pulled it from Murphy’s jacket pocket.
“Can I borrow this?” said Nate, grabbing Murphy’s thumb. He pressed it to the button and unlocked the phone.
Logan let go of Murphy. He took Connie’s hand and led her away from him, while Murphy coughed, catching his breath.
I stood next to Nate and looked at the screen as he scrolled through the Murphy’s phone calls and messages.
“Look for pictures,” said Connie.
At that same moment Nate’s finger stopped on the last message, sent less than an hour ago. He opened it. I gasped when I saw a photo of Kenneth’s books. Murphy had sent them to someone. Probably to prove they were real, he also sent pictures of several pages.
Nate’s face darkened. He pushed the phone into his pocket.
“Thank you, Connie.” He glanced at her. “You were extremely helpful.”
Connie nodded. “I wouldn’t have been able to do that much, but he panicked and started thinking about the things he needed to hide from me.”
“Who’s that man, Murphy?” Nate glared at him. “Is he from the Order?”
“And what if he is?” Murphy glared back, getting up from his knees. “What are you going to do, Cain?”
“Where you trying to sell him the books?”
“It’s not your business, is it?”
“Are you that stupid?” said Nate quietly. He shook his head. “You were trying to still the books that our families died to get, and kept hidden from the enemy all those years, and you say it’s not my business?”
With his fist, Nate bumped the air toward Murphy. Murphy flew back, hit the Tree, and hung pinned to its trunk. Nate moved closer.
“Do you know anyone else from the Order?” he asked, his black eyes piercing Murphy’s.
“Go to hell,” hissed Murphy.
“You better start answering my questions,” said Nate through gritted teeth.
His contained fury sent a shiver down my spine.
He pressed his fourth and middle fingers together, pointed them at Murphy’s chest, and slowly turned them. Murphy screamed.
“I’ll ask again,” said Nate coldly. “Do you know anyone else from the Order?”
“Noo,” moaned Murphy.
“So you knew about the Order long before you got the message from your mother, when Vincent was still alive. What did the man tell you about him?”
“That his parents, Bree and Richard Callahan, were dead. That Vincent was married but didn’t have kids and was the last Callahan left.”
“Does the man know that you’re a Callahan?” asked Nate.
Murphy pressed his hands to the trunk and struggled to get free, but Nate turned his fingers again. Murphy roared.
“Yes,” he panted. “But he wanted proof, and now he has it.”
“Well.” Nate dropped his hand. “You just signed your sentence, you poor bastard.”
“What are you going to do?” Murphy snapped. “Kill me?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
My insides turned ice cold. I stared at Nate.
“That’s easy for you, isn’t it, Cain?” shouted Murphy. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Nate removed the spell, and as Murphy dropped to the ground, he tried to cast a spell too, but moaned again. His broken wrist hasn’t healed yet.
“You’re right.” Nate folded his hands behind his back. “I’ve been in this kind of mess before.”
“Nate,” I called. He turned to look at me. “There must be another way.”
“Keep an eye on him,” he said to Logan. Then he approached me.
My eyes widened as I saw Logan flash like lightning to Murphy’s side. Murphy was chanting, and Logan clutched his throat again.
“Nicky,” said Nate, his voice soft, “he tried to kill you today. He knows about you and Bree. And now he knows all your secrets. That means he knows where to find the rest of the things and how to use his blood. We can’t let him go. He’s done enough damage already.”
I turned my eyes to Gran.
“He’s right,” she said quietly. “It needs to be done. Otherwise, he’ll sell us all out.”
I exchanged a glance with Connie, who too looked shocked.
“Nicky,” said Nate. “I need you to give me the sword.”
Why me? Why can’t he just take it? I sighed. Of course. He needs me to hand him the sword so he knows I accept his decision.
I thought for a moment. Who knows what else is waiting for us out there? I have to be strong.
“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice firm.
I walked to the bag, gazing at Murphy, who stared at us with wide, terrified eyes. I pulled out the sword and handed it to Nate.
The moment he took it, a wind blew out of nowhere, rocking the heavy branches of the ancient oak.
“They are angry,” said Gran, looking up at the Tree. “Nathan, he's a Callahan. Get him away from the Tree, or you might end up hurting yourself.”
Nate nodded, then glanced at Logan. Logan grabbed Murphy and flashed toward the woods.
“Bree,” said Nate, “take the girls away.”
“No.” I gazed at him.
“Nicky, please, I don’t want you to—”
“What? Witness the murder we all agreed to?” I said in a bitter voice. “I have to. If this is my life now, then I have to get used to it.”
“Nicky.” Gran’s eyes filled with tears.
“It’s okay. I can handle it.”
“Connie?” Logan glanced at her.
“I’ll stay with them,” said Connie, coming closer to me and Gran.
Nate took a step toward me, but I stopped him, raising my hand.
“You can’t protect me from this, Nate.”
“Nicky, I have to do this. I don’t have a choice.”
“I know, Nate,” I said softly. “I don’t blame you.” I looked at Murphy, on his knees by Logan between the trees, then I looked into Nate’s eyes. “Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be the one holding that sword to protect someone I love. So let me be strong. Go, do what you have to do.”
Nate nodded once, and as he stepped away, Gran drew closer. She stood between me and Connie and put her arms around our backs.
“That man knows I’m a Callahan,” wheezed Murphy, glaring at Nate. “If you kill me, if I disappear, he’ll try to find me. They all will.”
“Then we’ll have to find him first,” said Nate. He put his hand on Murphy’s shoulder. Holding him steady, Nate thrust the sword into his heart.
Clenching my teeth, I shuddered. Gran’s grip tightened around me, and at the same time, Connie buried her face in Gran’s chest.
The blood soaked through Murphy’s clothes, and as Nate pulled the sword out, it flowed from the cut, dripping on the ground.
“Logan, get away from him,” snapped Nate.
I
didn’t understand why Nate wanted Logan to get away from Murphy. But when I glanced at Logan, I saw his fangs protruding from under his lip. Logan growled and bounced back.
Of course. The blood.
I looked at Connie and saw her bite her lip.
Murphy shook, then his limp body fell to the ground.
We stood in silence for a moment. Feeling nauseous, I took a few deep breaths. Logan stepped farther away and finally took control over his urge. As his face changed back to normal, he turned to Connie with an apologetic look. Connie took a step toward him, but he stopped her.
“Give me a minute.”
My heart sank even more when Connie stepped back, a bitter smile on her face.
“Are you sure he’s dead?” Logan asked Nate. “He’s immortal. The sword wasn’t finished, Nate. Did it kill him?”
“Let’s check.”
Nate looked at me. I nodded and went to the Tree. The wind was gone, and the old oak stood motionless now, as if it was mourning. I pressed my hand to the trunk, and as the golden branches shimmered on the bark, I found Sara Callahan’s name. Nate approached me from behind, and the two of us watched her branch grow, chaining Christopher Callahan’s name to his mother’s.
“He’s dead,” said Nate to the others. “Nicky,” he called me quietly. When I turned around, he showed me the sword he’d already cleaned from the blood.
As I looked at it, I released a quiet gasp. His theory about how to improve the sword was right. The silver glow of the blade was gone, it’s gray surface now matte.
“One down, twelve to go,” said Nate with a deep sigh.
Also by Lana Melyan
THE WEIGHT OF MAGIC
The First Fight – episode 5
The Last Bell– episode 6
The Eternity Road Trilogy
The Eternity Road–– book 1
The Return–– book 2
The Keeper Of The Book–– book 3
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