“Hell yes I do!” I shouted. The others began laughing, patting me on the arm in congratulations as Wren led me toward the bleachers.
Annabelle pulled me out of Wren’s arms and gave me a sweaty hug. “You should have seen your face when you crossed the finish line. It was so unattractive.” She laughed.
“Thanks.” I giggled. “I’ll take it if it means beating Hailey.”
“Harper and I got to you guys at the same time–that was definitely all you,” she said. “I never doubted you for a minute.”
“Congratulations, Quinn. Way to kick some ass.” Huck pulled me against his side and squeezed me just a little too tightly.
“What made you go all ‘Team Quinn’ all the sudden?” I asked him.
“I’ve always been all ‘Team Quinn’ and besides, I don’t like bitchy girls. And that girl,” he pointed to Hailey, who was currently slamming her baton into the box, “is seriously demented. Bottom line–you don’t talk shit about my friends. I have zero tolerance for racial slandering.”
“Aw, thanks Huck.” Annabelle gave him a side hug.
“She might be hot, but that was a dick move,” Jamie agreed with a shrug.
“She’s more like a hot mess,” Annabelle said.
The boys started walking toward the starting line for their race. I was still reeling from my win with smug satisfaction when a twinge rippled through my temples. It wasn’t painful so much as it felt invasive–abrupt and forceful. My eyes flashed up to Wren’s and his expression shifted, filling with apprehension. “Quinn?”
“Get me off the tra–”
White-hot pain exploded in my temples, forcing my eyelids to snap shut. This isn’t right, I thought desperately, it isn’t supposed to hurt anymore and I didn’t even touch any blood! That was my last coherent thought before the rippling current of the ocean swirled around my ankles and ripped me below the surface of the waves. The water surged, altering the collage of images until the ocean spewed me from her watery depths and thrust me along the beach. It was there I sucked in my first gulp of air, and there that the wind billowed past me in visible strands of color.
Quinn, her voice sounded as if it were coming from a broken surround-sound speaker, crackling with static. Stop fighting me–I’m trying to show you.
“Show me what?” I asked, raising my arm above my brow to shield my eyes from the brilliant stream of light spooling with endless blue.
Your…future…stop…fighting. Her words were all jumbled and spaced apart as she struggled to get her message through. Your…subconscious…turn it…off.
“Tell me how?” I shouted, dropping to my knees. Oh goddess please let my mind go blank. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the wind that was rushing past me and howling in my ears. I surrender, I surrender.
The roar of the wind began to slow. I concentrated on my breathing and focused on becoming one with the elements. That’s it, White One; you are smoke, you are Air. The voice told me.
I felt my body dissolve then–broken down into tiny little particles that drifted about like dust in the sunshine. I was no more than an echo, or an afterthought of something left behind or forgotten. The world came back together piece by piece, and the first thing I saw was the neon sign flickering above Thornwood’s Were bar. I heard the steady hum of electric buzzing from the transformer and spotted Sal mopping down the bar top with a stained rag. A group of men were playing pool while my spirit seemed to float above them, undetected. I had no control over my movements. I was vapor and fog–moving through the room like a cloud drifted in the sky. My spirit drifted over to the corner where two figures lingered in the shadows. Maddox was one of them, and he was talking to Ryker.
“Has Hailey made any progress with Wren?” Ryker asked Maddox. Ryker’s left arm was folded across his chest while cradling his right–stroking the stubble on his chin in a contemplative manner.
“No. Using Hailey as bait was a good move on your part, but Wren is entirely too infatuated with that little brunette to be tempted. Hailey refocused her efforts on Quinn. She appears to be the weak link in that thick armor of his,” Maddox replied. “I think if we focus our efforts on using her as leverage, we can convince Wren that this pack is his only option.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“If Wren refuses the pack, I could convince Quinn that it’s the only way to save his life. I know you don’t want to kill him Ryker, but he’s not going to submit willingly. Quinn is a smart girl; she’s not going to let him sign his own death certificate. We’re going to need her help.”
Ryker considered this, continuing to stroke his chin. “Hailey says they’re never apart. Finding a way to lure her away from Wren might be a problem.” Ryker paused, “Also, there’s still the question of what she is… She smells human, but she made it through the door so we know she has some Supernatural DNA.”
“She’s pretty enough to belong to the Fae,” Maddox said grimly. Maddox explained his suspicions of what happened to their bikes when he and the others visited us at school. “She was standing with three others, so it could have been one of them, but, I’m willing to stake my next meal on her.”
“You think she can perform psychokinesis?”
Maddox nodded. “That doesn’t exactly narrow a Supernatural species down, but being able to move an object with one’s mind is a specialty of witches and Fae born. Unfortunately for us, it’s a common practice among Supernaturals so it’s impossible to know for certain.”
Ryker dropped his arms to his sides, pushing out from the shadows, he began to pace. “We need Silver Mountain. Rhea has foreseen what could happen if we don’t take it.” He heaved a great, frustrated sigh.
“So we use Quinn. If need be, we can threaten her life to force Wren’s loyalty and take over Silver Mountain.”
Ryker stopped pacing, turning to face Maddox and rising to his full height. The blacks of his eye seemed to glitter in the overhead lighting. His body was resolute and unwavering in its stance, but I saw the disgust flashing across his dark eyes at Maddox’s suggestion. “You see Maddox; that kind of thinking is what got Nyla and the others banished from this pack.” Ryker’s voice was ice-cold, so much that I felt the effect of it rippling through the Air that I had become. “I will not use a mortal soul to force another’s compliance.”
“I’m sorry, Ryker, I didn’t mean–”
“I know,” Ryker lifted his hand, gripping Maddox’s shoulder firmly. “This fight is with our kind and our kind alone.” He leveled his eyes with Maddox.
A loud bang erupted from behind. I spun in my fragmented state, catching a glimpse of a feminine figure standing in the doorway of the bar. In a flash, Ryker materialized in front of her, wrapped a hand around her slim neck and pinned her against the wall to his right. Her skull cracked into the plaster, and a horrible sickness washed through me–or at least it would have–if there was a physical me to wash through.
I recognized that face.
The fluorescent light above the pool table turned her wild mane of hair a dirty-dishwater brown. Her caramelized eyes were wide and full of fear as her fingers clawed at Ryker’s hands around her throat. She ground her teeth, and I saw the white flash of her canines extending. “Amnesty,” she choked out.
Ryker tightened his grip, baring his fangs just inches in front of her face. “You and your deviant companions were abjured from this pack, Nyla. I don’t grant amnesty to those who serve the Darkness.”
“It’s about…Quinn,” she croaked. Her skin was beginning to turn a sickly shade of eggplant. Ryker held her there on the wall for a heartbeat longer before allowing her feet to reconnect with the floor. He loosened his hand around her neck but jammed his fists into the wall on either side of her b
ody, blocking her exit.
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because… I’m trying to help you.” She sucked in a gulp of air, struggling to retain a normal tone now that her vocal chords were shredded. “I wouldn’t risk coming here otherwise. I know you’ve vowed to kill anyone who does.”
Ryker snickered humorlessly. “Go on,” he breathed.
“She’s a witch,” Nyla blurted.
“Damn it to hell.” I heard Sal mutter from behind Ryker’s shoulder.
“We can handle witches,” Ryker replied in an indifferent tone. “In fact, they’re known to be of use for the Supernatural realm. This bar is spelled by one.”
“She’s not just any witch,” Nyla said, and absolute dread clenched my stomach into knots. “She’s the White Witch incarnate.”
The atmosphere iced over. Every soul in that room stopped breathing. Ryker’s nostrils flared as he continued to stare hard into Nyla’s caramel eyes. “How?” he enunciated the word slowly–deadly.
“The Dark Witch’s spirit has been summoned by one who shares a bloodline with her,” Nyla explained. “Her spiritual essence alone triggered the Trinity’s awakening. Quinn is one of them, and so is Wren.”
The muscle in Ryker’s jaw worked over the bone and I watched the muscle in his forearm rippling with the Change. Patches of fur sprouted over his wrists, retracted and sprouted again on the sides of his neck. His eyes were churning with neon yellow color.
“You’ve sold yourself to Darkness, Nyla, what’s in this for you? Why should we believe anything you say?” Maddox asked, stepping up from the shadows.
“I’ve turned from the path of shadow,” she said, and Ryker snorted. “I was wrong, Ryker. I thought I wanted power, but I didn’t realize the cost in which it would come.”
He spun on his heel, his face so close to hers that it almost appeared intimate. “I used to admire your thirst for blood but you are truly toxic. The only reason you’re here is because you’ve gotten yourself involved in a shit storm and now you need the pack’s protection. I can’t help you. If Darkness marked you for her own, then you’re as good as dead.” His heartless tone matched the cold depth of his eyes.
“We’re all as good as dead if we don’t do something to stop the Dark Witch from returning,” she said, raising her voice. “She commands the power of an ancient artifact that can control us. She’ll use her amulet to enslave us in our wolf skins and we’ll never walk in our human forms again.”
The bar erupted in anxious murmurs. The atmosphere shifted and I sensed the clammy tendrils of their fear tainting the air. Ryker’s powerful voice rose above the masses. “How did you come by this information, Nyla?”
“Garrett was captured by the Trinity after the fight in the forest, they held him for questioning. It was Quinn who told them the true intentions of the Dark Mistress. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but we’ve lost contact with the human guardian. It’s my belief that the amulet has come into Quinn’s possession,” Nyla finished.
Ryker began pacing again. “This changes things,” he said, more to himself than to the others. Nyla, still cowering against the wall, kept her eyes glued to Ryker’s every move. “You risked a lot coming here tonight,” he told her.
“I know,” she said, “but there was no other choice. The power of the amulet affects us all.”
“If what you say is true–”
“–It is true!” she interrupted. “You know the legend of our creation. We can’t knowingly allow someone else to wield a weapon that can control us!”
“So what would you have me do?” Ryker growled.
“Capture Quinn and take the amulet from her! There’s no power on earth that can destroy it, and I will not stand for the amulet to remain in the possession of a witch. Their existence is an abomination! If we have to kill her to take back control of the amulet, then I say she should die!”
The bar erupted in a mix of angry growls and cheers. Ryker slammed Nyla back into the wall–so hard that I was certain the plaster cracked. “Bite your tongue. You will not speak so freely in a pack that you are no longer part of. Your opinion bears no weight. Do I make myself clear?” Nyla spit a stream of blood onto the floor in response. Ryker grinned. “I hadn’t meant for you to take my command so literal.”
“What are you going to do with me?” she snarled.
“Maddox, Asher,” Ryker called over his shoulder, the two men emerged at his side. “Take Nyla to the cells, I’ll address the council before we decide her fate.”
“You’re nothing but a coward, Ryker Donavon.” Nyla laughed bitterly as the two men hauled her–kicking and struggling–toward the back door. “You’re an idiot if you don’t go after Quinn. This fight affects us all!”
Ryker squared his shoulders and his irises began to swirl. I watched the breaths coming hard from his chest as anger rose within. Sal stood beside him, laying a gentle hand on his arm.
“I know you don’t trust her,” Sal said, “but she risked her life coming here tonight. She’s scared Ryker, and I think she’s right. We can’t let anyone hold a weapon that could control us. We need to get that amulet.”
“I know that Sal,” Ryker said. “The question is how…”
Chapter Fourteen
Star Magic
Coming back to my body was like waking from a lucid dream. I was aware I was having a vision, but it was unlike any other I’d experienced. My spirit was scattered by Air, and I was waiting for the element to put all my pieces back together. I could feel them rearranging inside me–the fragments coming together like a foot being stuffed into a shoe that was just a size too small.
“If she’s out much longer, I’m going to have to call the ambulance.” That was my father’s voice. He sounded frantic. I wanted to tell him I was fine, but my brain wouldn’t send the signal to my mouth to speak.
“They won’t be able to do anything, what happened to her was magic related. I can feel it,” said Blaire.
“You’re sure she didn’t touch any… blood?”
“I’m positive,” Wren said. “I was standing right beside her when it happened.”
Oh good, I guess that meant Dad was aware that Wren knew I was a witch. One less thing I’d have to explain when I came to, I thought.
The fragments were settling now–tingling through my body so that I became aware of my limbs. Maybe if I could just will my foot to move…
“There!” Annabelle shouted, “She’s moving.”
Eesh–just how many people were in this room?
Pins and needles exploded over the surface of my skin and my whole body jerked back to life in unbelievable pain. I sucked in a sharp breath and my lungs ballooned like an inflated life vest. I coughed, trying to regulate my air intake while fumbling to push myself in an upright sitting position. The room was too bright. I felt like I was looking at the sun through a crystal prism.
“Slow it down there, Quinny,” my dad was the first one to speak, but it was Wren’s touch that registered. I could feel the absolute warmth of it soaking through my cold skin.
“Why is it so cold in here?” I shivered.
“Toss me that afghan there,” Dad instructed. Wren sat down beside me a beat later, readjusting my body so that I was cradled against his side. He covered me with the blanket and began running his palm against my arm to generate friction. I suppose I should have been a little embarrassed to be curled up this closely with my boyfriend (though boyfriend was a loose term considering he was my soulmate) in front of my dad, but when I looked at Dad’s face, all I saw was concern.
“You’re too pale,” I told him.
Annabelle laughed. �
�Someone should hand you a mirror.” She reached over, smoothing a piece of hair out of my face.
“How are you feeling, lass?” Blaire asked.
I considered her question for a moment and then answered, “Like a pop can that someone shook up but never opened–or maybe like a sardine.”
“That good, eh?”
“What happened,” I asked, “back at the track after I blacked out I mean?”
“Wren scooped you up before you hit the ground,” Annabelle explained. “We sort of had to fake an accident to cover up your blackout.”
“How?” I frowned.
“Easy,” Annabelle said, “fabrications are my specialty, after all. Blaire sent me an imaginary picture of her scraped knee and you saw my cellphone screen when I opened it. Everyone already knows blood makes you squeamish. Coach was worried of course, but he let Wren and I escort you to the nurse’s office–AKA home so we could call in the cavalry.”
“That’s twice today,” I croaked.
“You’re welcome.” Annabelle beamed.
“Thank you.” I managed a small smile, but it hurt like hell. With my frozen body pressed against Wren, I began to thaw. The amount of heat he was generating was soothing, and at that moment I wanted nothing more than to curl up and take a nap. But then I saw the wad of bloody tissues piled up on the coffee table. I reached up, touching my nose. “Are those all from me?”
“Yeah.” Annabelle pressed her lips into a thin line.
“How long was I out?”
“Just a little over an hour,” Blaire said.
I pressed my hands against my face, and as I shut my eyes, the vision the enchantress sent me came rushing in at full force.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Blaire encouraged.
I blinked my eyes open, waiting until the fuzzy spots cleared from my vision while my dad’s face settled into view. He looked tired–the worry lines creasing his forehead seemed deeper than usual. But there was something else there, too–a sort of warmth that had been missing from his eyes since Mom died. Seeing that old flame spark again gave me the strength I needed to finally tell my dad the truth.
The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2) Page 16