“Do you know me?” he asked.
She blinked several times and turned her gaze to him but remained mute. She could have been drugged, which might have been the best for her.
He tried to change the question into more of an order. He doubted Ryma asked for much around here. “Tell me your name.”
“Alise.” No emotion entered her flat voice.
“I’m sorry, Alise. I wish I had a choice, but I don’t.” Turning away, he tried to shut off the nagging voice in the back of his mind and went to finish the pentagram. He placed the sticks and the bowl of water in their respective points then grabbed the oil lamp to light it. The lighter sparked over and over as he struggled to light it. Once it was lit, his hand shook so bad, it went out before the wick caught fire.
He dropped the lighter and took a deep breath. “You can do this,” he lied to himself.
Her constant gaze unsettled him. Can I do this? Can I erase this woman’s soul and spend the rest of my life serving Ryma? Her presence would be a constant reminder of what he did, of who he was. Yes, he would have money, food, and a place to live, but it wasn’t as though he had no other choices. But living under the coven’s radar and serving the black market? Ryma would find him.
Or would he?
Tightening his grip on the lighter in his hand, Nevada turned to Alise. “Come to me.”
She walked to him. He could save her and give her a different life.
Indecision wracked his brain. If he used her for a Soultorn, her soul and spirit would die. She would be a tool for him, nothing more. Her eyes would be wiped of joy and replaced by a demon. He was going to have to draw a line, but he had to decide where that would be.
He grabbed her hand. The taint of magic tingled through his skin. Her mind had been emptied, a blank slate for the ceremony. He could fix this, fix her. They would have to escape, and he wasn’t sure how to do that with her in a zombie-like state. She would need her wits about her if they were going to survive.
Grasping both of her hands, he could feel the layers of intricate magic used to weave this spell together. Ryma hadn’t worried about protecting his spell or putting up any defenses in the spell, not in his own home. Nevada would have no problems breaking the spell.
In mere moments, Alise jerked backward, pulling out of his grasp. She gasped, grabbing her head. “What the hell?”
He’d broken the spell. She had to be disoriented and confused, but they didn’t have time for her to figure it out.
“There’s no time to explain. You’re in Ryma’s house. There was a spell on you, controlling your conscious. I know your head hurts like hell, but we have to get out of here.”
“What?” Her deep eyes flashed with alarm. “I was just working this morning, cleaning…” She trailed off, staring at him for answers.
He didn’t have any. “Doesn’t matter. Ryma picked you for a Soultorn, and unless we get out of here, that’s how you’ll end up.”
Slowly, she put the pieces together. “How? They won’t just let me walk out of here.”
If she worked in the house, she was probably right. He needed to disguise both of them, but he didn’t have the power for it. He had one minor demon attached to him, miles away. If nothing else, he had to disguise himself. And he knew exactly who he should be.
Thankfully, transforming again shouldn’t be as difficult as he’d already had practice becoming Ryma. The magic poured over him, draining his power. He staggered slightly but remained upright, wiping the sweat off his face.
Alise’s jaw dropped as she watched his change.
“I know it’s not pretty, but hopefully it should work.” He tried to alter his voice, something he’d worked on without magic quite often. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close. “We’re leaving.”
“What about me? They’ll know what he planned for me. He doesn’t take servants out of here.”
Nevada pushed an easy spell toward Alise, and in between blinks, her eyes changed. “Your eyes are black. You’ll act as my Soultorn.”
“I don’t have any power.”
“Most of the servants won’t know that. Just act like one. We have to get past the gates.”
“You say that like it’s easy.” Her face held doubt, but thankfully, she continued out of the room.
He paused, ignoring her disturbing black eyes. “You’re going to have to trust me.”
Even though she had no reason to trust him, her gaze held steady as she inhaled a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. It’s not like I have any other choices.”
They stepped out into the corridor and quickly closed the door behind them. No one was there. They continued down the hall, and Nevada kept his head lifted high. His legs itched to go faster, but he was skilled at impersonations. Once, he had done the headmaster at his school so well, he’d managed to give himself stunning marks.
It was more than looking the part. It was acting the part. Many magicians performed illusions, and others could feel the spell to some extent. He had to be better than a picture.
Nevada ignored his uneasy legs and focused on the job ahead. His uneasy feeling was more than nerves. The magic left him drained, as if he’d run a marathon.
“Left here,” Alise muttered. “His private exit.”
He gave a slight nod, acknowledging the help.
They turned the corner. Two female servants standing close together froze and turned in his direction. Their eyes widened slightly with surprise. They’d probably assumed Ryma would still be occupied, and hopefully he still would be. If they had any remorse for their old workmate, who appeared possessed, it didn’t show.
Nevada pushed aside all natural instinct and leveled his gaze in their direction. “Go ready my car.”
One servant curtsied low. “Yes, my lord.”
Nevada continued forward, heading outside.
The other servant was a thin woman with rich red hair. “It will take a minute, my lord, for the car to come around. Can I be of assistance?”
“No. I need some air.”
Despite the brief look of confusion on the servant’s face, Nevada stepped outside, shading his eyes from the sun. Once they were out of the woman’s earshot, Alise continued to direct him quietly. He blinked several times to clear his vision and continued toward the garage.
“What’s the plan now?” Alise asked.
He wished he had one. He didn’t want a driver, but there would be guards and drivers ready for Ryma. And from his arrival, he knew the garage and front gate spoke to the main house. If Ryma found him missing, they would know where Nevada was in seconds.
As if reading his mind, Alise said, “Jackson is his usual driver. Not much magic. You should be able to deal with him.”
Nevada wanted to laugh. He wasn’t strong enough to fight a child right now. Illusions came easy to him, but offensive magic took energy he didn’t have. He loosened his collar, sweat beading his spine at the possible issues before him.
He started to explain his lack of magic, when a vintage black Bentley approached. It had to be Ryma’s. It held class and aged beauty that only Ryma could afford.
Nevada spoke to Alise but kept his eyes on the car. “I’m not as strong as you think right now. Be prepared.”
She swore under her breath as the car pulled over on the soft gravel. Alise opened the door for him, waited for him to climb in, then walked around and let herself in. She sat directly behind the driver.
“Where to, my lord?” Jackson had a full face and cropped blond hair.
“The Midnight.” It was the only upscale bar he could think of.
Jackson glanced back as if to question his decision but didn’t say a word.
The old car smelled of well-worn leather with a hint of spice. They drove smoothly around the pool and flower gardens before heading out the main gates. Alise’s hands tightened in her lap. They mirrored Nevada’s insides.
Every inch the car traveled was one step closer to their freedom. The guards’ station waved them through
. Tall iron gates slowly opened, and they glided past without a problem. Nevada turned to Alise, not daring to smile, but a wordless victory passed between them.
They traveled the road lined with rich pine trees for maybe a minute before static from a radio filled the car. “Jackson?” asked a voice over the radio.
Terror gripped Nevada’s body and tightened his chest. He’d never thought they would have a radio system in the cars, but it made sense. It was a small box that hid under the dash.
The driver reached down to pick up a small rectangular microphone. “Jackson here.”
Alise shot Nevada a frantic look, her eyes wide.
“You need to return to the estate. Immediately.”
“But…” His gaze flicked to the back seat.
The voice continued. “You are not driving our lord.”
Nevada’s hand shot forward and pushed forth an illusion, one last ounce of magic he didn’t know he had, fueled by desperation.
Bugs. Hundreds of bugs covered the dash, steering wheel, and even Jackson’s radio receiver. It was a simple illusion, one of the first he’d learned in school.
Jackson pulled his hands back on instinct.
Alise shot forward. She grabbed Jackson’s seat belt and wrapped it around his neck.
Surprised and grateful for her assistance, Nevada reached forward to grab the steering wheel. The driver tugged at the belt around his throat. The car sped up as it spun off the road, bouncing along the forest floor. Nevada was flung to the side of the car. Pain shot through his head.
Alise screamed. He looked up just in time to watch them hit a tree. The metal screamed as he flew forward. The world spun upside down as the car rolled over and over. He hit something hard, and dark spots filled his vision. The car finally settled after what felt like an eternity, and the smell of smoke and oil permeated the air. Nevada blinked repeatedly, pain radiating up his back. He struggled to sit up, but everything ached.
Static hissed over the radio, sending Nevada’s blood pumping. They had to leave. He had to get up. He looked down at his body for any wounds, but all he saw was Ryma. The illusion was still intact. Maybe it was for the best.
“Alise?” he called. He felt her body next to him on the seat. “Alise, are you okay?”
Ryma was probably nearby, ready to string them both up. And without any defenses left, Nevada couldn’t protect her. He could only imagine what Ryma would have in store for them.
Alise leaned against the window, her temple bleeding. Her eyes were open but blank, like when he’d first met her.
“Are you okay?” He saw no blood or visible injuries. Maybe she had a concussion. “Talk to me, Alise. What’s going on?”
Her breath was shallow and came out in thin rasps.
He glimpsed Jackson slumped over the steering wheel. Blood was pouring down the driver’s face, and the seat belt was still wrapped around his neck.
Static buzzed on the radio before a familiar voice came on. “Nevada,” Ryma said. “I’m sorry to hear you left.”
Fear spiked his adrenaline. If Ryma knew he was there, they had only seconds to escape. He pulled on Alise, trying to get her to move, while Ryma’s voice droned on.
“I understand you are young. Maybe you feel the need to sow your oats before becoming an adult. I may overlook some things but not stealing. Not only did you steal my car, but two of my employees. That will not be tolerated.”
“Alise, speak to me.” Nevada pulled her close, but she still didn’t respond.
“What a waste of a young woman, beautiful and clean. Now tainted by you and your ideas, she dies.”
Alise took one more ragged breath then sagged against the car door, her life slipping away in a silent breath.
Nevada yelled out, full of fury and despair as he held Alise’s lifeless body in his arms. How could Ryma have done this? How could he have taken this woman and destroyed her so easily? How did he have power this far out? Maybe he was connected to his servants.
“I welcomed you into my home, gave you an opportunity many would kill for, and this is how you treat me?” His voice thundered over the radio, anger ringing through the car. “Soon, you’ll see how far my reach goes.” With a single click, the transmission was over.
Nevada heard the cars in the distance. His insides twisted, guilt and anger urging him to fight, to take Ryma on and bleed him until nothing was left. But Nevada knew when to cut his losses. He had spent years avoiding his abusive father’s bad side, and if he wanted to stay alive, he would have to hide from Ryma as well.
He closed Alise’s eyes with two fingers. If it weren’t for him, she might still be alive, working as a servant. “I’m sorry. Rest in peace.” He wished he could do more, bury her properly, but that wasn’t possible. He placed a hand on her and absorbed her death, her sacrifice, with a simple spell. It should be enough.
He slid out of the car and started into the dense forest. Within seconds, he shed the disgusting illusion of Ryma. Now Nevada could be anyone he wanted. He focused his energy and looked down at his body, perfectly camouflaged in the browns and greens of the surrounding pines. For the moment, he would blend in with the forest. Miles ahead lay a city with thousands of people. The time had come to be anyone but him for a while.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed EVIL ETCHED IN GOLD.
Hooked
Hard-Wired Trilogy Book 1
When virtual reality surpasses people’s wildest dreams, many struggle to remain in the real world.
This isn’t real.
Ari stood on a nearby hill above the familiar carnival with her brother, Marco. Rides spun endlessly in the distance, and neon lights flashed, illuminating the dark night. It stole her back to a time when the world was a different place, a place full of laughter. An uneasy sensation crawled along Ari’s skin as she thought of her body tucked back in reality with wires streaming from the port in her neck.
“Remember how you puked on the Spinning Hammers?” A wide smile lit up Marco’s face. Marco and Ari both took after their mother with their tanned skin, dark wavy hair, and chocolate eyes. Except for the smile—Marco wore their father’s smile.
She couldn’t figure out how her brother always appeared so put together, in and out of the virtual realm. Ari wore a flannel shirt and beat up jeans, and not on purpose. The Virtual Reality, or VR, program let people change their clothes, but Ari never stuck around long enough to bother with fashion.
She turned back to the carnival, the rides antiquated and shedding their paint even in this computerized replica. The carnival had come around every spring when they were little. People lined up all day and night for rides, an event so popular someone made it into a VR.
“Please, Marco, I feel like I’m about to lose it.” She dug her nails deep into her palms and welcomed the pain as it grounded her in reality.
“What? You don’t like it?” Marco acted surprised. “I had to ask them to dig into their storage to find this virtual for you. Come on.”
Marco grabbed Ari’s hand and pulled her down the hill towards the rides. The cool night air brushed against her face as they raced down the grassy path, and she fought to keep her fear from bubbling over. She had never lasted more than two minutes in one of these programs, but today she needed to. Her future depended on it. Assignments for their continued education were coming soon, and if she couldn’t pass the VR simulation, she might as well sign up for a life of kitchen duty.
Her breath came in rapid pants as they reached the entrance. A disfigured clown face with exaggerated eyes and teeth welcomed them, his mechanical voice scratchy. Her throat tightened as she tried to breathe. She panicked at the idea of being stuck here forever, trapped in this virtual world, spiraling into a VR coma like her father. The government limited the hours kids could be inside a VR, but people, young and old, still slipped, which left their family paying the bill in hopes they would return.
The clown image frizzed momentarily into a dark void with specks of light replacing
the creepy face. “Marco, what’s going on?” She pointed at the distorted image. There had to be some sort of glitch.
Marco glanced at the clown. “What are you talking about, Ariana?” He tugged on her arm. “Snap out of it. I told Mom we would have fun.” He yanked her toward the Tilt-a-Whirl.
An elderly man worked the empty ride, or so her brain told her. He wore a plain blue uniform and a smile that was a touch bigger than necessary. Holding the gate open, he welcomed them inside.
The virtual showed its age as the computerized character blinked constantly and tilted his head every three seconds like clockwork, but they couldn’t afford anything more sophisticated. Ari wasn’t sure if it was the uncomfortable memory of wires hooked into her unconscious body or this man’s creepy behavior that made her want to run away.
She froze with fear at the gate. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” Marco’s dark eyes locked onto her with a firmness that didn’t suit him. “You don’t have a choice. Get used to VRs or get used to cleaning toilets while Mom tries to marry you off. Is that what you want?”
Normally she would have smacked her older brother for talking like that, but the truth hit its mark. Biting her lip, she stepped toward the small compartment built for two. Marco climbed in and slid across the faded blue vinyl bench. She squeezed in beside him and fastened the thick black strap.
“I thought you loved being here. I always did.”
Every spring, her father would empty the jar of coins on top of the fridge and treat Ari and Marco to a fun day at the carnival. They would fill up on fried bread and cheese curls, watching the night descend into a blur of neon lights. But, unlike her brother, this reminded Ari of what they didn’t have anymore: a father and a jar full of savings. In a VR coma, their dad was more dead than alive, and the chipped jar now sat empty on top of a rundown fridge.
Chest tightening, she pushed back the memories. “I’m sorry. I can’t, Marco. I gotta go.” She clawed at the thick black safety belt as the ride surged forward.
Dark Rising Trilogy Page 81