by Arthur, Keri
Nothing more than what you do when you wish to share sensory awareness with Belle. Gabe can see and react through you, but it will be your magic rather than his or the wild magic.
I hoped she wasn’t overestimating my magic. This could all go to hell in a handbasket very quickly if she was.
After a deep breath that did little to calm the inner churning, I reached psychically through the wild magic’s connection for Gabe’s spirit. His energy flowed down the link and then fused with mine—not so deeply that his spirit shared body space, but deep enough that he could use his skill and direct my magic while seeing through my eyes.
It felt weird. Felt like I was present in my body and yet standing apart.
You’re in control, Gabe said, his words echoing loudly through my brain, I will only intervene as necessary.
I hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but that was a futile hope, and we all knew it. Things would get nasty, especially once Belle was freed, and it was very possible none of us was going to be magically strong enough. Maybe I should have asked Aiden for a goddamn gun… My gaze went to my backpack and, after a slight hesitation, I drew out my silver knife and tucked it into the back of my jeans. A last resort if all else failed.
I continued on into the ranch house’s long driveway, but the inner weirdness had my hands slipping on the steering wheel, briefly sending the SUV in the wrong direction before I readjusted.
Up ahead, the front door opened. No one stepped out. My heart pounded so damn fast, it felt like one long scream. I flexed my fingers and tried to remain calm. I wasn’t alone. I had help. I could do this.
I had to do this.
I stopped the SUV, but didn’t immediately kill the engine or get out. No one appeared to be moving within the house, and I had no sense of either Belle or Clayton. But his magic was very evident. It cloaked the entire building, layered with every sort of protection and retaliation spell imaginable. I could get in—the exception was so plainly visible it was obvious he wanted me to see it—but I had to wonder if getting out was going to be possible.
I squeezed the pendant lightly to turn on the recorder, then grabbed the backpack and climbed out of the SUV. My legs wobbled briefly, and it was only my grip on the door that kept me upright. The weird, almost out-of-body sensation of sharing brain space with Gabe was disconcerting, to say the least. I swallowed heavily and forced my feet forward, concentrating intently on every step, rather than the magic that flickered angry snakes toward me. His magic was strong, fierce, furious, and it stung my skin as it probed both the backpack and me. My breath caught in my throat, but I clenched my fingers and resisted the urge to react.
“Lose the pack,” Clayton said, his voice coming from somewhere to the left of the door. “And your phone.”
But not the knife. And not the pendant. For whatever reason, he hadn’t sensed the presence of either on my person. I obediently dropped the pack on the top step and then placed my phone beside it.
“Excellent,” he said. “Please proceed inside.”
I took a deep breath and then stepped through the thick cloak of his magic. I might as well have stepped through a wall of white heat. His magic tore at me, a wave of tiny claws that ripped into my skin, seeking to contain, to bind. My magic rose in response, and the charm at my neck burned to life. The wave briefly abated, then surged anew. Panic rose; I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t fight him—
Yes, Gabe cut in calmly, you can.
My hand rose unbidden, and words sprang to my lips. Power shimmered from my fingertips, and a shield flared around me. The tiny claws of magic were torn from my skin, and Clayton’s magic rolled back several inches. It wasn’t much of a gap, but it gave me breathing space. I pushed through his spell and stepped into the house.
Clayton stood in the middle of the large living room, looking very much the utter gentleman in his expensive black suit and shiny shoes. Only his eyes gave the game away—the savage had well and truly risen. “Your magic is stronger than expected—what an absolute delight.”
The last thing I ever wanted was to delight him in any way. “Where’s Belle?”
He motioned to his left. “Here, awaiting your arrival, as promised.”
I scanned the space between us. I couldn’t see any sort of snare—magical or otherwise—but the confident amusement in his expression had every inner alarm going off.
I stepped to the side rather than into the room and finally saw her. There was duct tape over her mouth; her wrists and ankles had been similarly bound to a kitchen chair. There were multiple wounds across her torso and arms, but they didn’t appear to be caused by a blade or fist, but rather magic. She didn’t look as if she’d been sexually assaulted, and that had me blinking back tears of relief. The blood spell had been worth the price I might yet pay…
Though her aura was filled with pain, there was only fury in her gaze—and much of it was aimed at me. I wished I could tell her there was a plan; wished I could tell her it would be all right.
Wished I actually believed that.
What I couldn’t see was any form of magical restraint… until my gaze hit her shoulder. What looked to be the black metal grip of a knife poked out of her shoulder.
What’s that?
A dark restraint spell came Gabe’s grim reply. One that not only contains her telepathy skills but also her magic. Any spell she attempts is turned threefold back onto her. It also appears to be some kind of conduit for his magic.
That doesn’t sound good.
It isn’t. It means his magic is amplified without him having to push much magic strength into it.
Well, fuck. But I guess he’d had thirteen years to plan his revenge, so it was no surprise he was so well prepared.
I forced my gaze back to him. “What have you done to her?”
“Not as much as I might have wished,” he replied evenly. “Your magic is greater than I presumed, which gives me great hope for the viability of our children.”
A shudder I couldn’t control ran through me, but the images that usually came with the thought of him touching me didn’t rise. Perhaps Gabe was busy in the background…
“You’re delusional, Clayton,” I bit back. “You never managed to fuck me when we were married, and you certainly won’t now.”
My reply was met with a short, sharp laugh. Anyone listening would presume my barb hadn’t hit him where it hurt, but they’d be utterly wrong.
Maelle approaches came Katie’s comment. Keep his attention on you.
I flexed my fingers and hoped like hell Maelle hurried. There was a storm rising in the middle of the living room, and I wasn’t really sure I could withstand its force for long.
“You forget, I have your familiar.” His voice was low, vicious. The veneer of civility had been stripped away by that one remark. “You will entertain me however I wish, or she will pay the price.”
“And how long do you think that will last, Clayton? How long do you think it’ll be before the council and my parents rain hell down on your sorry ass?”
“They have to find me first.”
“And you think they won’t? Your DNA was registered at birth, right along with every other witch born. How long do you really think it’ll take seekers to find you?”
He smirked. “Except my DNA isn’t in the registers. When you have the pull and the power, it is amazing what you can do. Strip.”
My gut was churning so hard that for a moment, I thought I’d misunderstood his order. “What?”
“You heard.” He motioned up and down. “Remove your clothes. I want to see the full bloom of your body.”
Bile rose and magic stirred, bright sparks that danced across my fingertips. It only made the gleam in his eyes fiercer.
He appears to be warded against both your natural magic and the wild came Gabe’s comment. I also suspect he actually wants you to attack him that way.
Why would he want that?
Magic shimmers around him. The spell is not one I’m familiar with, but
it has old bones. Perhaps he found some means of both protecting himself against the wild magic and using it against the user.
If that sort of protection were possible, surely my mother would have used it before she tackled the wellspring that almost killed her. To Clayton, I added, “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever—”
He clicked his fingers before I finished. Power rose and energy spun through the air, striking Belle with such force that her body jumped and shook. As a muffled scream was wrenched from her lips, I yelled, “Enough!”
He obeyed. Belle’s head dropped, her nostrils flaring as she sucked down air, her whole body shaking.
You’ll pay, you bastard, you’ll pay… The promise ran through my mind, a song that could not be sung. Not yet.
He raised an eyebrow. “Strip, or the next one will burn off her fingertips.”
I hissed, but there was little I could do right now but obey. I slowly stripped off my jacket. I could feel Belle’s gaze on me, could feel her demand that I do anything but obey, but I ignored it. Until Maelle got here, I couldn’t react. Not when she was at his mercy.
You do have one option, Gabe commented. The knife.
Using it means getting far too close to the bastard. It wasn’t practical to throw it, given it wasn’t designed for that sort of thing and I certainly wasn’t trained for it. Besides, wouldn’t he guard against something like that?
Sane witches would, but I suspect that word doesn’t currently apply.
Which doesn’t mean he hasn’t.
No. Gabe paused. I cannot see a thread that indicates protection against non-magical retaliation, but that doesn’t mean it’s not in the deeper layers.
Which isn’t comforting. Not in the least. How far away is Maelle?
She’s weaving an entry into his barrier, but it will take a few minutes if he is to remain unaware.
Meaning I had no real choice. Bile surged, closing my throat and briefly making breathing difficult. Though I could think of nothing better than puking all over his shiny black shoes, I was too far away even for that. I swallowed heavily, then tugged at my sweater’s left sleeve. As I pulled my arm free, I took one step forward. I repeated the process and then threw the sweater at him with as much force as I could muster.
He laughed and casually knocked it aside. I’d half hoped it’d hit him and perhaps indicate whether his protections ran to real-world items.
“These delaying tactics only increase the anticipation, dear Elizabeth. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“What I want is you on your knees bleeding from multiple wounds, begging for your life.”
He tsked. “So bloodthirsty for one so young.”
“I’m not fucking sixteen anymore, Clayton. I’m twenty-nine.” I took several more steps, then carefully tugged my T-shirt free from my jeans, making sure the knife didn’t move in the process. I pulled the shirt off and once again tossed it at him. This time it hit his chest and fell to his feet. I hoped it meant he wasn’t guarded, but until I used the knife, I wouldn’t know for sure.
I licked my lips, my heart racing, and sweat trickling down my spine. Five steps. Five more steps and he’d be within reach… and I’d be within his.
But for this to have any chance of working, I’d have to let him touch me.
I shuddered even as the memory of rough fingers against tender skin rose. Just for a moment I froze, unable to force my feet any closer. Then determination surged, a thick wave of strength that quickly washed away uncertainty. It didn’t come from Gabe or even the wild magic that burned unseen around my wrist, but rather from deep within.
I wasn’t that frightened sixteen-year-old anymore. I was a strong, capable woman who’d faced down rogue mages and the darkest of demons.
He might be stronger than me, both physically and magically, but he was also overconfident. He didn’t think I was a threat—not in any way. That gave me an advantage—a brief but very important advantage.
As did the fact he was blind in the left eye.
I took a step forward and to the left. Three more, and I could knife him.
His eyes skimmed my breasts, and heat stirred in his eyes. “The bra.” His voice was husky. Urgent. “Remove the bra.”
I reached back and undid my bra. As I tossed it onto the floor, Katie said, Maelle’s entered the house. Keep his attention.
I took a deep breath and another step forward. I was now within stabbing range. For several seconds, he watched the rise and fall of my breasts with almost avid fascination. Then he reached out and, with one cold cruel hand, grabbed a breast and squeezed. Hard. I gasped in pain and fought the urge to reach for the knife. To slice away the offending fingers and then cut the satisfied smile from his lips. But I couldn’t, not as long as Belle remained trapped by his power. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a brief shimmer of movement; a heartbeat later, the duct tape binding her ankles had been sliced away.
Maelle. Relief surged, but the danger was far from over. If I did anything—if I even twitched the wrong way—he’d sense her.
His grip moved to my other breast, and I hissed in pain. He laughed, the sound sharp and familiar. The same sound had haunted my dreams for nigh on thirteen years now.
“Enjoy it while you can,” I growled. “Because one day your attention and your control will slip, and then I will kill you.”
“Oh, you can try, young woman, but we both know that you have neither the magic nor the strength to defeat me.” He tugged on a nipple; tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back fiercely. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He laughed again. “Take off your jeans.”
Belle made a long, long sound that was part muffled scream, part growl.
“It’s okay, Belle,” I said, holding Clayton’s gaze. “Everything will be okay. Just trust me.”
Her quick flick of understanding rolled around me. She might not know what I planned, but at least she now knew there was a plan.
I took another of those deep breaths. All but one of Belle’s restraints had been removed. Maelle would have her out of here any second now… but the minute she moved, the game would be up and all hell would break loose.
I had to time my assault to perfection…
I kicked off one boot. Saw the last piece of tape fall away. Kicked off my other boot. Saw a shimmer fall around Belle, cloaking her from sight. I undid the top button of my jeans. Clayton took a sharp breath, his attention on my fingers as they caught the zipper tab. I reached back with my free hand and gripped the hilt of my knife.
The chair shifted, scraping across the wooden floor, the sound sharp in the silence.
Clayton’s head snapped around. “What the fuck—?”
I yanked the knife free and lunged forward; his magic burned across my hand but didn’t react to the knife. A heartbeat later, it was buried deep in his gut.
He howled in fury and backhanded me so hard that I was flung back across the room. I hit the wall with a grunt of pain and slithered to the floor. Felt the fury of his approach through the floorboards and threw myself sideways. Magic seared my side, wrenching a scream from my lips. A hand grabbed me, drew me upward. I kicked him in the nuts with every ounce of strength I had. He grunted and released me with a suddenness that had me staggering backward.
His magic rose again, and I flung out a hand. Words poured from my lips, a spell I didn’t know. Power swirled around me, forming a shield that met Clayton’s magic and pushed it away.
He screamed and charged, punching and slapping and cursing. I ducked and backed away, but the room wasn’t large enough and I wasn’t fast enough. One blow got through, skimming my chin, sending me flying. I tumbled over the chair and hit the ground hard enough to see stars. Heard the thunder of his approach, smelled his utter fury, felt the rise of magic so fierce it blistered my skin. Words sprang from my lips, and magic rose. Clayton batted it aside easily.
This was the end.
Something snapped inside—the last of the inner re
straints, perhaps. Wild magic surged, but it wasn’t the reservation’s; it was mine. It flooded my body with strength and power and then leapt from my fingers in a fierce white wave. It met Clayton’s magic—caught it, held it. Held him. I pushed slowly to my feet. My limbs trembled, blood poured from my chin, and there were blisters and welts across my chest and stomach. I didn’t feel any of it. All I felt was the power.
And it felt so good.
He cursed, long and loud, as he fought against my restraints, trying to attack, trying to move. Every movement tore at me, and deep in my brain the ache began, a slow beat that would soon be followed by blood if I didn’t end this.
“You will eventually escape the magic that binds you, Clayton, but by then, it’ll be far too late.”
His gaze snapped to mine. For the very first time, a smidge of uncertainty was evident in his expression.
“Meaning you intend to kill me? And risk internment for a very long time?” He snorted. “You didn’t have the courage thirteen years ago. I doubt you have it now.”
“I have no intention of killing you.” I grabbed the hilt of my knife and slowly withdrew it from his flesh. As a dark stain began to spread across the silk of his suit jacket, he hissed and his hands twitched. Whether he meant to grab at his stomach or me was a moot point—he was too tightly bound to do either. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll live to see the rise of dawn.”
“The wound won’t kill me,” he growled. “You’d better run, dear Elizabeth, because I’m through playing games—”
“Oh, so am I.” I stepped away from him. “There’s one very vital thing you forgot—the wellspring in this reservation lay unprotected for over a year, and that allowed all manner of dark entities to come seeking its power. I’d wish you luck against them, Clayton, but in truth, I hope they tear you apart piece by tiny piece.”
His sneer remained, despite the strengthening swirl of unease in his aura and the growing smell of his fear. “They won’t get through my protections—”
“They already have. You’re going to die wishing you’d never ever laid a goddamn hand on me and Belle.”
And with that, I grabbed my clothes and walked out.