Beautifully Broken (29 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

All the windows and doors of Ravenhurst burst open. Outside winds swelled, the branches of the oaks tossing in the gale. Fog snaked into the house. It billowed and heaved. Cold seeped through my clothes, chilling my bones. My body shivered. The storm was building, a small whirlwind blowing into the open windows. Furniture shifted as the ground shook beneath our feet. Dazed, I glanced down at Jillian. I shivered again and felt like retching, sweat beading my face. Little hairs on my arms lifted. I was frightened and I didn’t want Esael to sense it. I wanted to burst into tears except I had to be strong and brave.

But I wasn’t either of those things.

Someone in the crowd screamed. Ashley stood near Trent, her mouth hanging open, fear radiating from her every pore. A surge of compassion washed over me. Never thought I'd feel compassionate for Ashley, but no one deserved this kind of fear. Not even the town bitch. People ran for the nearest exits. Pushing and rushing to get away from the demon. Fear, stark and vivid in their eyes. Understanding dawned in their expressions.

Behind Jillian, Esael was still partly shadow, a living black cloud of muscle and bone. A sulfur heat, memorable yet painful, blew through the foyer. Faintly, as if carried over a great distance. I heard the shades whispering. Singing an old song of magick. Shadowy tendrils of dark energy circled around my body like a protective cocoon. The shades would not let Jillian or Esael hurt me.

“But I wasn’t the only one who committed murder. There are others,” Jillian continued, glancing at the teenagers still assembled. They looked away, their gazes darting from one to the other. “As their leader, they used the demon through me to gain power, riches, and desires—for a price. There’s always a price to pay. A sacrifice to be made.” Spirals of blackness circled Jillian’s body like sticky webs, clinging to her clothes.

Be careful
.
Jillian is a powerful sorceress using Ravenhurst’s mystical power to influence the Darkness and wield its ancient magick.

Jillian turned and saw Esael standing silent behind her. She didn’t flinch or look surprised to find him there. No, she smiled and glanced back up at us—
me, Claire, and Madison
.

“Kill them,” she commanded.

Esael didn’t move. He cocked his serpent head and folded his muscular arms.

“What sacrifices have
you
made?” Claire screamed, making my throat ache. Her anger slowly dissipated. Loosened my limbs. “None. Ah, but what you don’t know is that
I
made a sacrifice too. For the life of my son.”

A stench of decay and sulfur rose from below. Esael took lithe, stalking steps filled with deadly purpose toward Jillian. He put his hands on her shoulders and dragged her toward the staircase. The peculiar flesh on the fingers curling around Jillian’s shoulders were no more than whitened bone, streaky mounds of bloody meat, clinging to her shoulder. His smoky grip tightened, and the skin on his arms seemed to flake away to cartilage, muscle, and skeleton.

He absolutely scares the bejeezus out of me.

“No—you can’t have Jillian!” I trembled, black hair lashing about my face. I was in control over my voice again. “Or anyone else.”

“Be especially sure you want to play this game with me, witch. Consequences are deadly,” Esael said, but he halted, his aura rippling in black waves, his distorted features still part human, part reptile, part demon.

 
“You can’t intimidate me, or haven’t you noticed? You lost all power over me. There’s nothing more you can do to me—
not now
.”

His face altered, the skeletal features twisting and freezing, becoming monstrous. Yellow eyes blazed out from a hideous distorted face. He snickered and let go of Jillian. “Nothing? Oh, I can do
anything
to you, and the ones you love. You have no idea, witch, of what I can do. You shall soon learn though.”

With a flick of his wrist, fiery air stabbed through me like a dagger, penetrating my clothing with a scalding blow. It knocked me backwards and I had to lean against the wall for support. My vision obscured, flecks of light filled the air in front of my eyes. I staggered forward until my fingers gripped the balustrade on the balcony.

“Death can be life. Give me your sweet blood, witch.” His voice clear and chilling even over the howl of the wind. “And I shall spare the others.”

I knew he was lying. After he’d drunk my blood, he would condemn me to life as a wraith. I’d switch places with Claire. The afterlife wasn’t looking so hot. Sure, I’d be immortal, but not of flesh and blood, but as spirit. No. Thanks.

 
Dizzying swirls of fog stung my nose and cheeks and clogged my eyelashes. Shadows became thicker. Esael lifted his opaque hand and threw another blaze of lightning power at me. The bolt whizzed past my head, searing my arm with a vibration like the crack of a whip. It struck the wall behind me and the tapestry hanging there caught on fire.

I raised my hand and doused the flames with my fingertips. “Fire thus bright—leave my sight!”

 
“Impressive,” Esael hollered up to me. “Such power. Remarkable.”

“Well, I’ve been studying,” I said proudly. “And practicing my magickal talents.” I stiffened my spine and looked him straight in the eyes. I threw up a barrier of pure energy as the next bolt of power shot from Esael’s outstretched hands. Then I drew on the darker magick swirling around my body, turning my aura indigo. The darkness awakened something inside my heart. Unlocked it. “Your bargaining days are done. Over. You need to return, Esael.”

“Return?”

 
“To Hell!
Duh.
Where you obviously belong, you snake-eyed freak.” I stood rigid, determined to defeat him even at the risk of my own life.

Esael laughed, even more menacing as his smoky features morphed back into solid form.

This really sucks. The one time I’m so angry I could actually kill someone, my rage is directed at a creature who claims to be, well, un-killable. I know only one way to ensure the safety of Jillian, Trent and the others, and my plan only requires one sacrifice. Mine.

I had to take Esael’s offer. Realization tore at my heart. I couldn’t sentence everybody to death. Esael needed my witch blood. I understood. He would finally be—corporeal.

My soul would be pushed out to die somewhere dark and alone.

A small price to pay. Noble even. He smiled. Coldest thing I’d ever seen. I backed up, realizing a shiver of panic. My heart hammered loud enough to conceal ragged breaths. Sweat chilled my back. Even though these might be my last moments on Earth, I had no regrets.

But
I’m only
a kid. I don’t wanna die. Oh, god, will it hurt when he spills my blood like a piñata
?

Esael would never give up and never stop until he found another heritage witch to suck dry. It would only be a matter of time.

“We have a deal,” I said, steeling myself. “If you meet my conditions.”

“Name them.”

He’s uber-dangerous and I have to be careful how I handle this situation. I need to buy some time before having my blood sucked from my body.

“One, you undo the curse on this town. Two, you let Trent live. Three, you release the other kids from this bogus deal.” My voice was granite and I didn’t blink. “And I’ll be your queen.”

He nodded briskly, all business.

And then the world turned into chaos.

The foyer grew dimmer, the shadows thicker, the atmosphere obscure. A current of air shot through the windows, lifting all the clothes and hair of every person left in the room. My short hair whipped into my face with such violence I could have been standing in a hurricane. In the gathering shadows, I saw endless oubliettes of screaming souls. But no sounds left their open mouths. Locked in silent screams.

Shades, untamed and sneaky, crept between the pockets of darkness. Their clawed feet scuffled along the floorboards. They scaled the velvet curtains. Hanging like little freakish monkeys from the rod. They grinned at me before melding into shadow.

Esael moved forward with inhuman grace and agility. He touched Jillian’s arm, sharp fingers piercing her soft flesh. Blood seeped from the cuts, leaking onto her dress. She did not cringe. She did not shriek.

Jillian raised her head to meet my gaze and something in her eyes broke.
A surrender.
Her shoulders slumped, her eyes cast down. Blackness, swirling from her fingertips, rescinded, fading to grey. Her aura cold. Weathered. Splintered and weakened.

Claire had won, but it was a dishonorable victory.

Her spirit was violently ripped from my body. I fell to my knees from the force and gasped. Her soul soared upward, a slight smile on her lips. Now that she’d been torn from me, the passion and hatred I’d been experiencing faded. I was left numb and confused. But deep inside, I was still raw and bleeding. So cold, it felt like winter. The hole in my heart stretched wide and empty.

The grandfather clock bonged and the clocks on the many mantels, in the many rooms chimed in.
Twelve o’clock—the witching hour.
Lights blinked once. Twice. As the clocks tolled out the hour, thundering throughout the quiet house, I trembled, uncertain how to bring this nightmare to an end.

A real gale was building, the deep and ominous thunder grumbling and the strong winds growling, tearing at the sides of the mansion and banging the shutters. Rain and wind beat the limbs of the oaks, scratching at the windows like claws.

Out of nowhere, Trent suddenly broke into a sprint. Esael never saw him coming. Trent charged at Esael, hitting him like a linebacker at full speed. They flew across the waxed floor, forcing Esael backward into the mirrored wall. Glass shattered from the impact, raining down on them.

Esael had been caught off guard at first, but he drew his power from the darkness, from the night, and from the nexus under Ravenhurst. He stood and eyed Trent dangerously. Trent, still lying on the floor, whipped out a leg, connecting it with the back of Esael’s ankles and sweeping his legs out from underneath him. Being corporeal had its disadvantages. With a grunt of surprise and annoyance, Esael fell, tucked, rolled. He came up with a fist and hit Trent on the chin. Trent’s head spun back, but he ducked as the next blow shot past him close enough for the wind of its passing to ruffle his hair. Trent wobbled to his feet and faced the demon. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

I have to help Trent. Or die trying.

But in those next few horrifying moments all I did was watch while Esael savagely plowed into Trent, knocking him backwards across the polished hardwood floor and toppling over chairs and tables. With Trent lying on his back, trying to catch his breath, Esael straightened, positioned a talon on his throat, and gazed at him with scorn. He bared his teeth and lowered his head. His rapier gaze narrowed on Trent. “Now it’s time to meet your maker.”
 

Trent was about to die and I had to do something. I couldn’t stand there and watch Esael kill him.
But I am not competent or strong enough. And Trent is about to die.

A surge of unbridled magick writhed within me, attempting to break out. I struggled to channel the power that flowed through me like too many endorphins. An insatiable darkness shot through me and with it a longing to hit Esael so hard his head would come flying off. The power was building inside me, surging within my heart. Like a tidal wave of magick. It jolted my arms agonizingly. Magick pleaded for release. I harnessed the raging energy inside and directed its force into my arm, across my scar, and out my fingertips.

Esael’s face held a wide grin of obscene pleasure. He leaned over Trent and placed his hands on each side of his face. He was going to kill him with one fatal twist of his head.

Through the open doors and windows, I quickly drew energy from the roses, the grass, the swaying trees, the wind and the moon, and didn’t stop to wonder how I was able to do this. I moved forward, and forced the magickal power into a bright orb between my hands. It grew in size and I lifted the pulsating glow toward the heavens before instinctively releasing it.

A blast of white light blinded us with its brilliance and landed on Esael. He screeched and raised his hands to block the brightness from his eyes, giving Trent a chance to get to his feet. The intensity illuminated the entire room.

Esael stumbled back, stunned and writhing in pain. Smoke rose from his scorched scales.

The blast of light dissipated, and an unnatural twilight hung over the foyer. The squall still whipped around us in a fury, but changed when the light exploded everywhere.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then I sliced my palm with the dagger. Some brief pain. I ignored it and closed my eyes, drawing on the strength of my ancestors. My blood—witch blood—dripped from the gash. I turned my glowing hand over and let the blood drip over my scar. I raised my hand and another blast of power shot from my fingertips and hit Esael with such force he screamed.

Trent bounded up the steps and stood near me. Magickal energy still churned within me. He sensed it and stood rigidly, but conflicting emotions raced across his face. Warily, Trent reached out, placing his hands on my waist. He stared into my face. Something appeared to crumble and break inside him. Something broke inside me too. Cracked, chipped, fragmented pieces of my heart—broken—forever.

“No!” Esael yelled, doubled over in pain. “She is mine.”

I opened my arms to Trent, then realized what I was doing and let them dangle at my sides. I wavered, and the world whirled beneath my feet.

“I love you,” Trent whispered, and I was undone. By three simple words.

The lights went out. Darkness ruled. The chandeliers blinked and came back on. I searched for Jillian, but she’d managed to escape.

My scar prickled with pain, edging up my arm. The sizzling traveled in my veins, piercing my heart. For second, I doubled over, clutching my arm against my chest. The mark carved into my arm throbbed and hurt, but the pain didn’t last long. Just a familiar, hot, tickling sensation. I knew if I peeked under my sleeve, I would find that the angry-looking scar was pulsating. Like a warning.