Malice (20 page)

“Do you see that?” I asked unnecessarily.

“Yeah,” he said. His body was suddenly rigid. I could feel the tension rolling off of him.

“It’s such a beautiful night. It’s probably just someone out for an evening boat ride.” I wasn’t sure why I said the words. Wishful thinking? I surely didn’t believe them.

We watched in silence as the vessel continued our way. The houseboat’s lights were on. I was sure that they had to see us. Therefore, there was no good explanation for why they were headed straight for us.

“Shouldn’t they be veering off by now?” I asked.

The lights on the boat made it easy to trace its progression toward us as it coasted across the black water. As it got closer one thing became clear. Magic had to be involved. No boat could travel that quickly on its own.

“Yeah,” Tristan said in an angry voice. “But they’re not. I think we’re about to have some unwanted company.”

“Take my band off,” Tristan ordered.

“
What
?” It was possibly the most perplexing thing he could’ve said to me in that moment. As I turned to face him, I realized he was holding his arm out to me.

“Do it,” he said. “Just do it now.” He never took his eyes off the boat in the distance.

It was such an odd request, yet so simple, that I didn’t waste time arguing. I unhooked the simple snap that held it on. I vaguely wondered why he didn’t just do it himself. That thought didn’t have time to fully form.

Dread coiled in my stomach and quickly slithered outward. Fear tingled and burned in my fingertips. As the boat approached, I could barely make out the silhouettes of passengers, their bodies backlit by a cabin light. There were probably half a dozen people on deck, but that wasn’t what had caused the rush of terror. Crimson light glowed in their palms. I strained my eyes. Blinked hard. I could not be seeing what I thought I saw.

Only Striga magic was that sickly color, swirling and full of malice.

“What should we do?” My voice was high-pitched and shaky. We only had moments before they would be close enough to strike.

“Get down,” he ordered.

In the split second that I didn’t follow his command, he pushed me to the boat’s floor. I scrambled to the edge, wondering how far we could get if I used my magic to power the boat. Not far, I knew. Not when there were at least half a dozen of them, only one of me, and any one of them had magic that far out powered mine.

So…? Fight back? I’d never had a reason to use defensive magic. I didn’t have the firepower to stave off one, let alone more.

My entire thought process had taken only seconds.

Before I could utter a word, crimson bolts of magic shot through the air, directly at Tristan and me. Simultaneously, the air shimmered in front of us. A nearly translucent crimson glow sheeted the air between us and the other boat. I barely gave it a confused thought.

I reached for Tristan, trying to pull him down with me. His body was like granite as I tugged at him.

“Tristan!” I cried as I watched the bolts of magic shoot through the air. My heart felt ready to explode. We were defenseless, just sitting here, waiting to be slaughtered. How stupid we’d been to stay on a boat.

The magic that had flown from their hands hit the shimmer and deflected. I shot back up to my feet.

What the hell? It had to be some kind of protective shield. But where was it coming from? I knew I didn’t have that kind of capability.

The air was filled with the suffocating stench of sulfur. I spun around in a circle, trying to ascertain where it was coming from. Had Levi boarded the boat?

Then Tristan raised his hands in the air. His face contorted into a look of pure agony. Oily, black magic entwined with crimson didn’t just flow from his fingertips. It poured out. He staggered backward, unsteady on his feet from the power of the exertion. The stench was almost nauseating.

The sight was dumbfounding.

I took a step away from him, helplessly fearing that it wasn’t Tristan at all. Had Levi gotten to him? Was he a vessel? He had to be. Tristan didn’t do magic. He didn’t even
have
magic. He sure as hell didn’t possess and practice dark magic!

Cacophonous shouts of confusion and fear erupted from the other boat. The shadowed bodies belted out orders to one another. Orders I couldn’t quite hear from this distance. More magic—from their side—came barreling our way. It never made it past the shimmering barrier.

The magic from our side, though slower, was obviously that much more powerful. It hit like a tidal wave, the energy slamming into the other boat, capsizing it in seconds.

I pivoted back around and Tristan, no, not Tristan—whoever was inside of him—looked at me. His eyes held the subtle crimson glow I’d heard spoken of but never thought I’d witness. The traces of magic lingered in the air. Strands of crimson—the color of dried blood—threaded the air between us. The stench of sulfur nearly made me gag.

“Who are you?” I demanded. I began to back away. When had Levi had time to do this? Was it a recent transformation? Had this,
this person,
this scavenger been inside of Tristan for awhile? Had he and I didn’t even know?

What kind of friend was I?

In the split-second it took me to assess him, I realized he looked different somehow. His glasses had been knocked away but it was more than that. He seemed taller, stronger, more confident than I’d ever seen him.

That’s because it’s not Tristan
a niggling little voice whispered through my mind.

An agonized scream tore at my throat, ripping its way from my somewhere deep inside of my chest. I could feel a fresh barrage of panicked tears begging to be set free. I couldn’t give into them, not now.

“Samara,” he said quietly. His voice was thick, gravely. His eyes weren’t my Tristan’s at all. Any trace of the soft green was gone. The unfathomable crimson glow made my stomach churn.

He took a step toward me and I shrieked, holding my hands up, as if that action alone could stop him.

“Don’t! Don’t come near me!” I grated out. I tossed a quick glance over my shoulder. The boat that had capsized was slowly sinking. The light of the moon wasn’t strong enough for me to be sure there were no survivors. If there were, they were likely busy trying to get to safety. I saw no crimson-streaked magic lighting up the night so I quickly turned my attention back around.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

“You made a mistake,” I said through gritted teeth. “I will make you regret the day you chose this body.”

“Sammy,” his voice was calm, placating. He held his hands out to me, palms outward in the universal sign of surrender. The shade of his eyes began to fade, but it didn’t matter. I’d seen it, there was no ignoring it. My chest heaved. “Calm down,” he ordered.

“Stay. Away.” I said the words with more authority than I felt. I’d just seen this…whoever he was…I’d seen his magic. It was like a storm of fireworks compared to my little sparkler. I wouldn’t stand a chance. I didn’t have to let him know that.

“Like hell I will,” he said firmly.

I lunged for the wooden oar that was loosely attached to the side of the boat. In one swift motion I pulled it away from the bracket it rested in and swung it at this stranger’s head.

He yelped out in pain—he hadn’t even ducked—and then he lunged for me.

I dove overboard. The frigidness of the water stabbed into me, like a billion tiny needles. For just a moment, panic consumed me. The water leached into my clothes, weighing them down, making me feel as if I had cement blocks tied to my ankles. I squinted into the depths. It was so dark, so dark and so cold. Disorientation tangled around my brain. I had no sense of which way was up, which way down.

After a moment, warmth flowed from my core, down my arms and into my fingertips.

Water was my affinity. I had nothing to be afraid of. The moment I realized that, I crested to the surface, rode the wave all the way into the shore. I sputtered and choked as I slid across the sand on my stomach. I scrubbed sand off my face and spit it out of my mouth.

Now that I was on dry land, it was hard to get moving again. I stumbled to my feet as I scanned my surroundings. It was so dark I could barely make anything out. I had come ashore a distance from the marina’s office. There were no lights on. It was closed for the night. This time of year, there were no people about.

In the distance, perhaps it was my imagination, questionable shadows began to roll onto the shore. Survivors of the capsized boat? I wasn’t sure but I wasn’t going to check it out, either.

My wet clothes were sticking to me. They felt confining as they continued to weigh me down. I ran a hand in front of myself. My magic pulled out the water, pulled out the dirt. I still felt grungy and crusty but at least I was dry.

Unsure of where I was headed, I simply began to run in the opposite direction.

“Sam!” I glanced over my shoulder. Tristan—no, not Tristan—but the thief who’d stolen Tristan’s body was trudging to the shore. He must’ve dove in after me. Now he was lugging his body through the knee deep water.

I pushed my legs to move faster. My feet were unsteady in the sand but rocky ledges banked the beach on the other side. I could’ve backtracked, toward the marina office and easier terrain, but that would’ve put me in his path.

My breathing came in the form of ragged gasps and exhales.

I’d never seen a Striga before. But I’d heard of them. I knew about the crimson eyes. The crimson glow. The magic that reeked of sulfur. I knew the color of the magic was the sickly color of blood, entwined with black, oily threads—the color of a Strigan soul. I’d always envisioned eyes that glowed like laser beams. I’d been wrong in that assessment. I hadn’t envisioned the soft, eerie glow that I’d seen just a few moments ago.

My heart ached with every overworked beat that pumped through me.

My body struggled to continue running through the sand. It was so dark I wasn’t sure what lay ahead. I needed a break in the rocky ledges. I needed somewhere to run. The ocean waves crashed on the other side of me. I felt trapped with nowhere to go but straight ahead.

I felt my chest tighten and this time, it wasn’t from exertion. If this wasn’t Tristan, that meant Tristan was dead. I barely kept myself from crumpling to the ground. I couldn’t stop the sorrowful wail that erupted from deep within my soul.

“Dammit, Sammy Jo. Stop running!”

I faltered. It had been years since Tristan had used my childhood nickname. It was his condensed version of Samara Joelle Cavanaugh. No one else had ever called me that before.

“It’s me, Sammy. I swear, it’s me. Please stop. I don’t want to hurt you!”

And
I
didn’t want to be stupid. I continued to run.

A wall of fire erupted twenty feet in front of me. I nearly ran through it. I screamed as I skidded to a halt. The fire evaporated and strong arms wrapped around me. We toppled to the ground. I found myself buried under Tristan, his arms caging me in.

I opened my mouth to scream but a hand clamped down locking it in.

“Sammy, please listen to me.” He sounded frantic as he tossed a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know how long we have. They’re coming for us. Both of us. Please don’t fight me. It’s me,
Tristan
. I swear to you!”

I shook my head as tears stung my eyes. Sand shifted beneath my head, clinging to my hair. I wanted to believe him. I wanted it more than almost anything. The alternative was to believe that
my
Tristan was gone.

But this Tristan? The Tristan with the crimson eyes and colossally strong magic? He was a stranger to me.

“They’re coming. I can hear them.” He scrambled to his feet and pulled me with him.

The shadows I’d seen rolling in further down the beach were headed our way. Not as many as before. Maybe only three or four. They ran toward us stealthily, probably hoping for the cover of night. They weren’t much more than dots in the distance, but I had no doubt about who they were.

I was torn between running and staying near him. I faltered, unsure of what to do. Yes, he’d saved us on the boat. But had he really been saving me? Or simply saving himself? Would I simply be trading in one enemy for another?

The person next to me wasn’t distracted. His hands flew out and his eyes flared. My hand reflexively flew up to cover my nose. I squinted against the powerful glow that shot from his palms. The sand on the beach rolled away from us, like a sheet being snapped into the wind. It hit the shadows. They were tossed up into the air, as if an enormous, invisible rug had been yanked out from under them.

I squinted as another wall of fire lit up the night. It was identical to the one he’d just thrown before me, before he’d tackled me. The sight of it yanked me back to the moment. I took off running again while he was distracted by his own magic.

I didn’t get far before his arms scooped around me. Barely faltering at all, he hoisted me up, tossed me over his shoulder like I was some oversized duffel bag.

I let out a shriek of protest.

He took off running.

I tried to push myself away from his body and simultaneously, magic surrounded me, like invisible ropes, binding me in place. I continued to struggle both magically and physically for a few moments. I realized I was only wearing myself out.

I let my body still as I decided to save my strength for when I might actually have a chance.

An errant thought had been floating around, drifting on the outskirts of my mind. Alex had told us that if a body was taken over, it was taken over completely. No memories, no thoughts remained.

So how did this person know to call me Sammy Jo? Unless, could it really possibly be Tristan?

Conflicting thoughts warred through my head. I wanted so badly to believe it was him because the alternative was devastating. But was I just setting myself up for an even more devastating outcome?

By the time he veered off the beach, he was huffing. His adrenaline had probably worn off and it was no longer so easy to lug around all one-hundred-plus pounds of me.