Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2) (21 page)

I walk under the green sign, looking up at the neon lights briefly then follow the fluttering fairy into the darkness.

Chapter 25

Rainbow glitter sparkles on the ground as the fairy floats down the path. When I step forward, there is another loud spark hitting the ground behind me, and I circle around, searching for anything behind me. There’s nothing.

I enter the kitchen and I hear music thumping and bouncing off the walls in the dark tunnel I walk through. This fairy thinks I’m a mystic, so I better keep the act up. I trace my fingers on the cold wall next to me, coming to the conclusion that I am not in a kitchen. I am in a secret entrance with only the fairy’s wings to guide me.

It’s pitch black. I become claustrophobic…until another set of neon lights ahead of me buzz. The same green letters flicker above that spelled out
M-Y-S-T-I-Q-U-E.
The fairy wiggles and sways her hips around rhythmically.

The ends of her hair glow blue, her wings flutter, and I smell the same scent I detected before in the alley with Alex, Eric’s corrupt fairy friend, and Dawn. My body pulses; my throat thickens. I kneel onto the floor with my eyes shut tight. Dizziness overwhelms me and I fall. Everything becomes dark.

***

I land on a field with a fairy that looks like the guy who lured my best friend into that alley on The Strip. His colorful eyes stare at me, his jagged teeth curling up his blistered lips. He’s being controlled. I know he wants to move and attack, judging from his appearance. I sense an anxious vibe between the two of us, though he’s not doing anything but floating.

Trees surround us in a circle. I’m in the middle of an island-like field. High grass waves against the middle of my thighs. A tall man stands far behind the corrupt fairy, leaning against a tree. His hair is dark brown and fashionably tangled. His long coat waves in the breeze. He has silver and purple markings on his skin; his eyes are a light purple. The fairy is floating in the air impatiently, his gaze wandering down on my skin. The air thickens. I try to move my legs to run to the forest behind me.

“You may go,” the man behind the fairy says and steps into the trees.

The mystic snarls, his screech assaulting my ears. His wings flutter furiously. And again, the same scent that I recall from our first encounter overpowers my senses. He shoots up in the air, flying toward me, increasing his speed. I step back, surprised I can move. I glance at my finger, forgetting I’d taken my mood ring off earlier. The fairy spreads his fingers out, roots from the ground spring up, wrapping around the ends of my legs. The feeling of them brushing against my skin, burning me, causes me to scream, but no one is around to save me. The fairy hovers above me, lifting me up into the air. I look down at the height difference. The mystic bats his wings, forcing the air to drowse me.

I fall asleep.

***

I wake up gasping for air. My muscles feel like they’ve been disturbed from sleep. Vibrations tickle across my body, and the girl fairy is staring at me.

I need to get used to these random projections.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“You must be getting pumped for the party.” She grins.

“Of course.”

I get up, wiping off little pieces of gravel from my jacket. The fairy twirls her index finger around her glowing hair and tiny sparkles of dandruff fall to the floor. She moves with the beat of the music, waving her arms in the air. Her split tongue slides out of her mouth and she opens her bright eyes wide.

It’s strange because I haven’t had a projection like that since back in Ellevil. Mellissa told me it could happen anytime and anywhere, and I would be pulled out of it when I see something I need to see. I don’t think so…I must be missing something.

These projections are really starting to feel more realistic than they should. I fold up the cuffs of my pants and see the marks from the roots that bound my legs. I was right; they really
are
becoming real.

My mouth drops when the bruises fade away. I’m trying to figure out what exactly happened. The strange purple-eyed man controlled the corrupt fairy, and no matter what the fairy wanted to do, he had to obey. I can’t get over the fact that I have this ability to astral project myself to certain places or times. It’s still new to me; however, it’s been happening ever since the day I left home for college.

I didn’t know what they were called. I kept thinking they were visions or hallucinations; they’re called projections. I flick my eyes back to the fairy in front of me. She turns around and struts over to knock on a large door in front of us. My broomstick warms up against my thigh. A dark figure appears, opening the door. The image clears once the person steps out from the door. I watch from a distance as his yellow eyes glare at me and then falls down on the fairy. His claws drag against her thigh, cuffing her butt. There are scratches left on her skin from the sharp nails. Glitter from around her waist sprinkles down from the shifter’s grope.

“Don’t scratch.” The fairy lifts her head up, fluttering her thick, shimmery eyelashes. Her rainbow markings glow up the darkness between us. He growls, sniffing her neck. He glares at her and then at me. The fairy tilts her neck to the side, moving her black hair behind her right shoulder, her rainbow markings glowing on her smooth skin.

“Hurry up, Doron,” she says impatiently, wanting to enter the room.

Doron, the shifter, bares his fangs and licks on the side of her skin and then eventually sucks on her neck. I cringe at the sound of him slurping. The shifter glances up at me. He finishes what he is doing to the fairy’s neck, lifting his mouth from her glowing tattoos. A gold circle, the color of his markings, forms on her neck as soon as he does. The fairy’s glittery skin shimmers up against the shadows on the ceiling.

“What was the noise in the shop?”

“It’s all good, no witches present.”

“Then who’s that?” he growls.

They slide their eyes over at me. “An elf,” she giggles.

Without my ring, the witch scent my mother always told me about must be masked. Mom would always worry about me forgetting to bring my broomstick. I guess the scent of being a new witch in town overwhelms the mystics. My scent attracted them from miles away and I would’ve never known, because she wanted to keep it hidden from me. Mom didn’t want to let me know about anything in ‘our world.’ She knew curiosity would eventually catch up and I would die, unaware of anything. I still think she should’ve let me know
some
of the things without me finding them out on my own. Maybe like being a myth? That’s a huge secret. No wonder mystics would be attracted to my scent so easily; it’s because I was one of
them.
A creature capable of corruption and feeding off innocence. Jared and Mother were afraid I’d find out too early before they were settled and ready to tell me the truth. Because they themselves weren’t ready for anything doesn’t mean I wasn’t. If I’m a myth then of course Mom and the rest of our family members are also myths, so you’d think they’d try and make it clear that,
hey Eliza, it’s kind of dangerous for you to be out past eight, because…you know, you’re a mystical creature.

I glance up at the shifter and fairy. My green markings start to freeze.

Better fake it till I make it.

“I’ve never seen an elf like her here,” Doron growls.

“Neither have I. I guess she wants to have fun. You know how they are, Doron. They’re so stuck up.” She rubs his chin, placing her hands around his chest, allowing her split tongue to creep out of her mouth. I see the colors of her eyes change. I don’t want to act too witchy, so I stand up, trying to act as confident as possible.

Get it together, Eliza.

“You’re right. They are stuck up and boring. I want to have fun. That’s why I came to…” I glance up at the letters above the shifter. “That’s why I came to Mystique.” I walk up to him. His face is hairy, and his yellow eyes are watching me carefully. He leans over me. His hair ruffles up; the fairy floats away from him.

“Mark me…” I peel the collar of my shirt away to bare my neck.

The shifter walks toward me, attaching both of his claws to my waist. I wiggle around trying to mimic the fairy and trace his bottom lip with my finger. Its texture is rough. He bares his fangs at me. They’re incredibly large. I know he can hear my heartbeat.

Everything about him wants me to stay in his grip. His claws work their way up against the sides of my stomach.

“Mark me,” I whisper into his ear.

His warm breath tickles my neck, and I shudder nervously. I close my eyes as drool drips from his fangs down on my neck. His tongue slides on my neck, the tips of his sharp fangs pierce my skin, and then an unbearable suction pulls my skin up as he sucks on me. My eyes roll back, and my heart stops beating for a second.

The feeling is warm, then it becomes heated as he finishes.

I feel like I’ve had a powerful spearmint gum.

The shifter loosens his grip and growls, “Welcome to Mystique.”

The fairy squeals happily, “You’re going to love it!”

The mark on her neck is glowing as she flies into the room. I follow the fairy’s rainbow tattoos. Taking one last glance at the muscled shifter next to me, I step into the room feeling its heavy bass hit my cheeks. A force pulls my body in, and the glass door closes tight.

I want to scream, but the force is picking up too heavily for me to even breathe. It’s like we stepped inside to fall down. We drop to the floor, music vibrations thudding against my insides. My eyes dart every which way nervously. All kinds of mystics are dancing together. The walls are dark with a light coat of blue on them. There’s white, expensive-looking couches in the corners. Men mystics are sitting down with a party full of girl mystics. That must be the VIP section.
The fairy girl flies over to her friends and they squeal together, floating to the dance floor. Everyone’s moving slowly as the music bumps loudly. I stand up trying to see where I fell from, but the lights and the music in the club overwhelm me.

“Myxster?” a male mystic of some kind asks me. He holds out a platter of a drink that’s red and glowing. I reach for the drink and he grins at me. “I wouldn’t drink that if I was you. Myxsters really go to your head quickly.”

There’s a voice that sounds familiar to me. A hand with light green tattoos along the wrist takes the drink.

Christian.

His markings are glowing in the dark, and I look at mine; they are glowing as well.

“Christian, what are you doing here?” The last time I saw him in person was when we were caught by Donovan and his evil brother. Every part of me wants to crack his neck. I don’t care if there’s a bunch of his kind around us. Our kind, I remember.

His body rubs against mine as he dances along with the music in the club. He holds up the glass of red liquid and guides me back over to the VIP lounge area. He’s still in the same outfit as when he got caught by Eric, his chestnut hair glowing from all of the lights, as well as his tattoos.

“So this is the place Eric took you? Why are you here?”

“I have my ways, Eliza. Calm down.” He sits and crosses his legs.

“Where’s Eric?” I say.

He looks up from drinking on the glass he took from me. “Don’t worry about it.” He finishes the drink.

“Don’t worry about it? He was holding you hostage, and now I find you here partying.”

“No, I found you.”

I lean away from him, searching his eyes for answers. I get up to leave the lounge area.

“Eliza…”

He appears in front of me out of nowhere, and I step back in bafflement. Elves can’t appear out of nowhere like that. Well, not according to my grimoire.

He catches my hand. His touch doesn’t burn me like Donovan’s. Leading me into the middle of the crowd, he places my arms around his neck. I am forced to move with the beat, completely forgetting about Dawn.

“Relax. Have some fun.” He grins down at me.

“My friend is missing, and you’re here…alive. It’s hard to relax right now, Chris.”

“It’s a celebration.” His hands drop to my butt.

I take his hands and lift them back up, glaring at him. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not.” When he leans down to kiss my neck, I slap his face and shove past him. He takes my wrist.

“Christian, let go of me!” I reach into my pocket, feeling my broomstick burn me. I look around. Okay, there are mystics here. Pulling out a broomstick wouldn’t be smart. I shoot Christian a glare; he’s smiling, knowing I can’t do anything to him. I’m sort of undercover here even though I’m one of them, a mystic.

“Eliza, stop ruining the fun.”

“Fun doesn’t mean rubbing up against me.”

He holds onto my wrist, glancing at my ring finger.

“Let go,” I say through clenched teeth.

The crowd forms a path, ending with a shifter screaming, “Witch!”

Everything becomes hectic, I am shoved, and fairy glitter blows into my face. I look back at Christian; he’s not there. A mermaid pushes me onto the ground.