He speared Logan with that icy-hot gaze, seeing her as if she were the only person at that dance, the only other being in the world. When he came toward her, the crowd kept their quiet distance and the sound of his boots was slow and clear in the sudden silence of the masquerade.
Run, the voice inside her instructed.
Hide.
But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Because for the first time in Logan’s life, as she stood there in that dress from another world, behind that mask that gave her strength, and in that place that defied imagination, she was not afraid. Not really.
The stranger may not be a Harvester, but he also wasn’t Dominic. So he couldn’t be Sam. Therefore, there was nothing to be frightened of. Right?
Of this, she was not entirely sure. And of this, she almost didn’t care.
She was entranced. There was a presence about the newcomer so vast, Logan would not have been able to put words to it. He was taller than the others. He was darker.
There were mysteries in his eyes, and there was promise in his step. He approached her like a predator, stopping a foot away so that she could see the candle light reflected in the silky black sheen of his thick, beautiful hair.
Now she could make out the shapes so intricately and delicately woven into his mask. There were skulls. And curling, thorny branches tipped with perfect black roses… there were animal shapes, wolves, owls, and bats. It was entrancing, and expertly, beautifully carved. But otherwise, it was devoid of decoration; there were no gems. It was all black.
Who are you? Logan wondered, her mind spinning, her stomach tightening, her mouth going dry.
“May I have this dance?” the stranger asked.
A rush of heat rolled through Logan, so hard and sudden, her lips parted and her eyes widened. She could almost hear the sound of flames crackling to life inside her. His voice was reminiscent of the very night. It was the sound of its indomitable shelter and universal majesty.
It was the deep, smooth, and crisp embodiment of audible bliss, as deep and as dark as the rest of him. Say something else, she thought hopelessly.
He offered her his hand, a perfect hand with long graceful fingers, and held the gentlemanly pose, a patient smile on his beautiful, perfect lips.
She caught the scent of masculine spices, of sandalwood or something similar… she couldn’t place it, but it seemed an almost Machiavellian assault on her senses as it reached into her and further fanned the flames that were already burning her up.
Who are you? Was he another visitor to October Land? A wizard? A warlock? Henry and Mabel had hinted that there were sometimes others. Perhaps this visitor knew more about October Land than she had when she’d been pulled in. Maybe he came here often.
Maybe she could ask him. If only she could find her voice.
When his patient smile spread into a bright white grin of amusement that lit a gray diamond of merriment in his beautiful eyes, Logan realized he was waiting for her answer.
She nodded. It was not the most suave response she could have mustered, but it’s what happened.
The man chuckled, and more wonderful light reflected in his endlessly stormy eyes – and more fire licked at her insides. She reached up to place her hand in his and tensed, knowing that his touch was going to be a sort of undoing.
It was.
He took her hand, meeting her half way. He was warm and dry, and his fingers wrapped around her own with slow finality. Power coursed through her hand and into her arm. It rushed over her skin like pleasantly electric snakes, racing over her until it covered every inch of her body. Encompassing her.
She took a breath, and it shook.
His smile became devilish. He turned, and with gentle but firm insistence, he walked them both out onto the dance floor.
Chapter Sixteen
Don’t do it, a voice in her head firmly told her. Don’t let Shawn do this to you. You’ll lose everything. You’ll be stuck here forever. You’ll be stuck drinking blood – ew – and never, ever taste coconut cream pie again.
“Where is he?” Meagan asked, trying to stall the vampires who’d just given them the ultimate ultimatum. “How can we be sure you’ll let him go if we agree?”
“Sorry, little witch,” Shawn replied. “You’ll just have to trust us on that one.”
“No deal,” said Katelyn firmly, putting her hands on her hips. Her jaw was set and her hazel eyes flashed with defiance.
Very brave, thought Meagan. But then she noticed the white knuckles on her friend’s hands and realized she must be squeezing them hard to keep them from shaking. Very, very brave.
“Shawn, you… you have to throw us a bone. You’re asking a lot of us. You’re asking everything!” She tried to sound as sure as Katelyn, but was unsuccessful at keeping the tremor out of her own voice. She’d always been a terrible liar. “At least tell us where he is. Let us see him for ourselves so we know you haven’t already killed him.”
Her reasoning was perfectly sound, but she doubted the two monsters before her were going to agree.
It didn’t matter though. What she was really trying to do was buy time.
“Oh, I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said Shawn.
“Why not?” demanded Katelyn.
He turned to look at her, and Nathan chuckled.
“Because,” Nathan said, “we have killed him. In a manner of speaking, anyway.”
Shawn looked back down at Meagan as her world started to tilt. “What you have to decide, Angel Eyes, is how many more times he’s going to suffer that death.”
Something cracked open inside Meagan. She had an epiphany in that moment: This was not going to get better, and it wasn’t going to get easier. She was not going to be afforded any better chances. The bad guy was only going to get closer and more violent.
If ever she was going to act, it had to be now. There was no more time to buy.
As if he knew something was about to go down, Shawn reached for Meagan just as he had before, with that speed that made no sense – that vampire speed. His hand again shot toward her neck, but this time, it wasn’t her already stolen life pendant he was after. This time, his gloved hand encircled her throat.
At once, she couldn’t breathe. If she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t cast spells. Spells required speaking, and speaking required air.
“A downside of this situation is that because of the way Logan wrote us, if I want my bite to turn you,” Shawn said, leaning in to hiss his words across Meagan’s lips, “I need your fucking permission.” He squeezed, and Meagan made a choking sound. “So give it.”
“Meagan!” Katelyn lunged forward to wrap her hands around his forearm and yank furiously. Nathan didn’t even try to stop her. Apparently, her puny mortal manipulations were not of consequence to vampires.
Instead, he blurred past Meagan and out of her line of sight. She had to assume he was dealing with Draper; the wizard was no doubt attempting to conjure up another spell.
And he was right about Katelyn. Her struggles did no good. Shawn’s inhumanly strong hand stayed where it was, and his eyes remained steadfastly fixed on Meagan’s. His lips were still curled in that easy, smug smile, the points of his fangs gleaming in mid-afternoon sunlight. But those eyes burned a little brighter now.
Time sped up then, skipping into fast-forward as Shawn reached out with his other gloved hand to attempt to take Katelyn’s pendant as well.
Meagan must have been losing too much oxygen or maybe he’d cut its supply completely off from her brain, because she began to feel truly strange then. Coherent thought evaporated, drifting through her mind like smoke and lifting away into the vaulted ceilings of her consciousness.
There were no words, and not even any fears. Instead, there was this odd crackling feeling, as if her body were covered in Pop Rocks and soda. The magic she’d had waiting inside her suddenly felt electric. She could almost hear the sound, in fact. It was like a tesla coil… zzzap… zzzap…zzzappth.
It was al
l the warning she was given.
She was no longer in control of her own magic.
The moment reached out for her, grabbed her just like Shawn had, and pulled her into it. She went without a fight, and a massive pulse of mighty, built-up power rocketed out from her body, whipping away from her so fast and so hard, it actually hurt.
Shawn’s fingers slipped from Meagan’s neck. She barely felt it though, despite the sudden opening of her air passages and the flood of oxygen and blood that roared back into her with a painful vengeance. She was too engulfed in her incredible magic to notice anything else.
The world went white in its wake. Its release felt like having an enormous Band-Aid ripped off her soul, as if her very spirit had been velcroed to the magic, and now it was being torn away from her and hurtled at her enemy with colossal, earth-cracking force.
She cried out with the first breath she managed to take in, screamed into the heavens with its pain, and felt herself fall to her knees.
For a moment, the world was spinning away. In that world, she heard other screams, shouts, and cries. There was movement, but it was blurry and indistinct behind the wall of blinding light she’d released.
She doubled over, breathing hard, choking on the agony as it ebbed and receded. It felt like she did this forever. After a few full minutes, she could see the light beyond her eyelids fading, her pain focused on her bruised throat, and someone… was touching her shoulder.
She looked up, blinking.
It was Katelyn. She was kneeling beside Meagan. Her blonde hair was wind-tossed, cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were wide, but she looked otherwise none the worse for wear.
Meagan heard footsteps approaching, and glanced over as Draper also knelt down beside her. “Have you recovered?” he asked. He seemed a little out of breath, and his expression was concerned.
Meagan felt her throat. It was working. She could swallow and she was getting air – so she figured she was fine. She nodded, though, not wanting to attempt speech just yet.
“I can’t believe you did that,” said Katelyn, shaking her head. “What was that. I mean, you just sort of exploded. And it took you a while to get over it.”
I what? Meagan thought, confused. I exploded?
“And without a spoken spell,” added Draper, his brow arching with what could only have been admiration. “I have heard of it being done, but no one in my time has ever been capable of such a thing.”
Meagan shook her head. The magic had completely acted on its own. At that moment, she was even scared to call it her magic. It was just the magic.
She was beginning to learn that magic was a little like the ocean. It could be beautiful and it was alluring, but it was also deadly, it could be unpredictable, it garnered a good deal of respect, and it belonged to no one.
“I don’t know,” she finally responded, croaking her words just a little bit. She coughed to clear her throat, winced, and tried again. “I’ve never done that before. I’m not sure it was even me.”
“Oh, it was you,” assured Draper. He placed his hand on her other shoulder and squeezed gently. “It was most certainly you. I have a feeling you’ve quite a bit more potential than you realize, young witch.”
“But I don’t even know what happened. Where are Shawn and Nathan?”
“Over there,” said Katelyn, pointing.
Meagan followed the line of her finger to find two sprawled forms several hundred feet away across the smooth rocks and pools of water.
“You picked them up like a couple of ragdolls and just tossed them,” said Katelyn. There was laughter in her voice. “Hugh and I checked them out while you were catching your breath, and they’re out cold. No response at all.”
“I suspect your body reacted to the immediate threat it was under,” suggested Draper. “The magic you had stored knew what to do, even if you were not consciously aware of it.”
“Are they gonna wake up?” Meagan asked. It was her main concern just then.
“I highly doubt they will any time soon,” said Draper.
“Yeah,” said Katelyn. “You should have seen your spell from our side.” She was grinning now. And Meagan realized it was a grin of pride. “They aren’t going anywhere for a while.”
Meagan wished there was something she could do to make sure. The last thing she wanted was to have to face those two again. At least… she hoped that was the last thing she wanted.
“Did….” Katelyn frowned, looking at something beyond Meagan. “Did you guys see that?” She stood, and walked past Meagan toward the large pool she’d nearly slid into when Shawn and Nathan showed up.
Meagan stood and walked over to her, peering down at the round pool. It was the size of a hot tub, but by the way the color went from light blue at the very edges to nearly black at its center, it was clear this was one of the deeper ones.
Suddenly, a bubble floated into vision, traveled to the water’s surface, and popped.
Meagan inhaled sharply.
“That was it!” Katelyn shouted. “That’s what I saw!”
“A bubble,” said Meagan.
There was a beat of comprehending silence. Then, together, they exclaimed “Mr. Lehrer!”
Chapter Seventeen
The dancers formed a circle around Logan and her partner, shifting back and moving out, their eyes never wavering as the stranger moved Logan to the very center of the masquerade floor.
The music began once more. It was slow and tender, the melody of a single, sad violin. The stranger took Logan’s hand and placed it meaningfully upon his chest just beneath his shoulder.
Logan swallowed. He felt hard and unyielding beneath the black material of his clothing.
He took her other hand and wove it with his own, his fingers curling over hers as he held her hand aloft. His other arm, he slid around her waist. That flame that had sparked inside Logan now erupted into a blaze hot enough to rival the bonfire that shed light over the masquerade ball.
Her heart rate sped into overdrive, and a soft sound escaped her lips. But it went unheard, as the tempo of the music increased slightly, and the single violin was expertly joined by other instruments.
The stranger moved her. A gentle tug here, a sweeping pull there, and she was dancing.
I’m dancing, she thought. It was an odd thought, but she was on autopilot now, and her thoughts were random and uncontrolled. She was no longer in the lead, in more ways than one.
The other dancers joined in, each couple sliding out onto the dance floor and back into their swaying, swirling routine one after another.
The stranger smiled down at her. There was something not right about that smile. She just knew there was. It was so beautiful, though. Perfect, really. It was bright and white and sharp and charming and dangerous….
But she could barely pay these spiky niggles of doubt any heed. It seemed the world was receding, like it had tunnel vision that was focused upon the midnight pair as they moved with inhuman grace at the center of the crowd.
Inhuman?
She heard the swishing of gowns and the clicking of feet around her, and color moved on the outskirts of her vision. She pulled her eyes away from his, only just managing it, and looked to the right. A dancing couple eyed her for a moment, the woman with a touch of obvious jealousy. Then, together, they nodded at her, slowly, respectfully. And she had no idea why.
Logan looked to her left. Mabel and Henry watched her from the sidelines, their hands clasped, their eyes bright. She knew it was them despite their masks. Mabel wore a mauve and brown dress, more concealing and less conspicuous than those of the younger women. And Henry wore matching finery, having gone through a sort of transformation from whittling cook to straight-backed and regal dance partner, no matter his age. But he’d been right about needing to carve himself a new mask; the one he wore now was admittedly worn and faded. It was time for a new one. Silly old man.
Logan’s brow furrowed. What’s wrong with me?
She was thinking of the Ha
rvesters as if she’d known them forever. As if they were friends, or even family members. Like they were her children.
That wasn’t right – was it? The questioning voice inside her was so distant, so far away, she felt giddy. She felt more than giddy.
She felt trapped in a magnificent dream.
“Tell me your name,” the stranger commanded gently. It was a request, and it was also a command.
His words wrapped around her, and squeezed her words from her lips. “Logan,” she replied softly. “Logan Wright.”
“Logan,” he repeated.
Oh no, she thought. She was doomed. She had never heard a sound sweeter than her name on his lips.
“You’re a bard,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It was just that he already seemed to know.
She nodded.
“I covet bards,” the stranger said, smiling that deadly smile again.
If ever there had been uttered a double entendre, this was most certainly it. That fire spread, coursing up her chest and into her neck to force a blush across her upper body. She was grateful for the mask, but the low neckline of the gown hid little else.
He swept her around, spun her, and drew her back in, moving through the crowd in perfect synchronicity as if he had danced to this music a thousand times. “The words of a bard renew our spirits and breathe life into the substance-less form of our everyday existence.”
Logan listened, transfixed. They did? She did that? Her words did that?
Tell me more, she thought hopelessly. Make me feel like I matter.
As if he could hear her thoughts and was all too happy to comply, he went on. “A bard is a key that unlocks doors to a million worlds.” He dipped her, leaned in close, and slowly raised her once more. “Your words bring salvation to those searching for escape.”
Funny, she thought. That was why she wrote, too. To escape. She never would have imagined that the same obsession that gave her an out from her own world did so for others as well.
“Will you be gracing us with a story tonight, Logan Wright?” His tone had lowered, become more personal.
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