Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2) (22 page)

“Witch, everyone get out!” a shifter growls. The music cuts off.

I try to get up, worried someone might’ve seen my markings. Everyone is running all over the place. Fairies fly up to the ceiling, shifters duck into an entrance in the ground, mermaids run down a hallway, and I hear splashes when they hit the water.

Above the crowd a massive cloud of glitter floats in the air. I push my way through the mystics and catch a whip wrapping around a fairy’s neck. The fairy’s hand flies up to try and free himself, but it is too late. Spikes appear against the mystic’s skin, paralyzing the creature. The fairy falls to the ground, and the whip stabs, puncturing both of its hearts.

A girl with a mask over her mouth and a hood over her head is standing. She whips a running mermaid’s legs, pulling the mystic to the ground. She is then shocked by the whip, and a tiny bottle breaks, shattering salt over her blue-marked body; she evaporates into thin air.

The girl glances at me and then leaps to the side, holding her silver dagger, running and whipping other mystics around the club.

Christian grabs my hand. “We have to get out of here!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Do you want to die?”

“She isn’t going to kill me when she finds out I’m a witch like her.” I look up at him. “Let go of me.”

“That’s the thing, you aren’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Christian’s yanks my hand, forcing me to follow behind him. We end up in a dark hallway, and Christian slows as we stand under a spotlight. I try to gather myself.

“Your elf side is taking over,” he says, pushing me against a wall. He places his hands on both sides of me, trapping me in his little jail. “You passed the test.”

“What test?” I try to move, but he presses his waist against me, shoving me against the wall.

“You killed the vampire,” he says. His lips meet mine before I can speak. “You are my queen.”

The elf markings on my arm sting. I look up to the dark sky.

Chapter 26

His cold fingers wrap around mine, holding me against my will. He stares deeply into my eyes. Scenes from the flashback when I first met Miss Canary vividly run across my mind. Christian is standing in her door
, I know
it is him…
It has
to be him, because the same look he had then spreads across his face. This moment feels the same. Our marriage was arranged at that moment, by his adoptive mother. I glance up at the guy in front of me, the guy who’s killed his own father.

Our green tattoos glow in the dark path.

“Christian…”

“Eliza, you need to calm down,” he says.

“Why do you keep calling me your queen?”

“Because you’re going to be my wife soon.”

“I didn’t agree to any of this.”

“You have no choice. You placed the mood ring on your finger and killed the vampire.” A sly grin appears across his face. “You kissed me in the Ellevil forest; you’ve done everything to seal this betrothal. Soon you’ll be full elf.” He chuckles.

“What does that have to do with marrying you?” I snap. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

Christian was about to reply when a bang from the door we ran out of reverberates in the darkness. We both jump back in shock. I look at the end of the street; this is my chance to run away from Christian, even if I’ve been searching for the truth all this time. I pat my pocket to see if my mood ring might have disappeared; it’s still there.

Christian looks back at me in fear. I straighten up, hoping he didn’t catch me feeling for the exact thing he’s asking right now.

“Do you have the ring? Give it to me.”

“I…I don’t have it.”

Christian stares at me and then to my pockets. “Where is it?” He shoves me back against the brick wall.

Smashing through the door, the same black-haired witch tumbles out, rolling against the gravel, digging her heels into the moist ground. She places the palm of her hand on the ground and snaps her head back.

Her mouth is covered by the mask she wears, and her freckles are scattered on the top of her cheeks. She squints at me. Holding out two daggers to her sides, she stands up. Twirling around, she releases one of her daggers, which shoots through the air toward Christian. The sharp knife stabs into the wall next to him, barely missing his cheek.

Christian knew this would happen, and so did I. He steps aside in time.

“No running. Let’s make this nice and easy,” she says calmly.

I step back, watching the witch carefully.

“Eliza, where is the mood ring?” he whispers. “Place it on.”

The witch darts down the path, holding her other dagger in her hand. She throws three little black balls toward Christian; they snap in half mid-air, allowing green fog to fall down on Christian. I can hear his skin sizzling and know he must be in pain. Some of the fog gets on my arm and it sizzles as well. I yelp, tripping on the tiny rocks.

Despite his pain, Christian leaps through the fog and punches the witch in the face. She falls on her back, her fingernails clawing at the gravel, and lifts herself back up. Christian stands in front of her as she rises, places his hands around her neck, and proceeds to choke her.

The girl calms herself and stares at him fiercely. She drops to the ground and rolls between his legs, running to her dagger stuck in the wall. Snatching it out, she clicks her broomstick’s button, resizing it into its long metal baton.

Christian walks with his hands in his pocket and stands in front of her.

She circles her bar above her head, turning it into a whip. The witch then flicks her metal string at Christian, but he flings his fingers to the ground, throwing up vines and leaves to surround him. His eyes glow green; he’s losing control and changing into something dark.

“We agreed no running, this time.” She flings her whip around the base of the vines, cutting them. More vines continue to grow, and I watch from a distance in shock.

Someone lands on the ground behind me. I twist around abruptly to see Jared, holding my mood ring in his mouth. I pat my pockets…I swear my ring was just there.

“If I was youidgetoutofthis,” he says, jumbling his words together.

“What?”

Christian and the witch are fighting behind me, and the wind they create whips against my back. The sound of the metal from her broomstick and the snap of a root enters my ears. I have to stop the witch from killing Christian.

The witch’s whip wraps around Christian’s waist.

“I would get out of here if I was you!” Jare yells. He runs to the edge of the street, his white fur disappearing around the corner.

The fight is growing louder. Christian glances at me. He grabs onto a vine and climbs up the wall until he reaches the roof. The witch switches her broomstick into a claw, throwing it up against the roof’s edge.

I chase after Jared.

“Jare!”

His slender white tail is waving at me as he runs faster down the street. He’s too fast for me to keep up with him, but I’m pulled back abruptly.

Donovan has gashes on his neck and scratches on his face. He’s in bad shape, and blood is dripping down his neck.

“Donovan!”

His lip is busted, eyes slanted and worn out. His hair is messed up from its usual sleek look.

I grab him before he collapses. He is too heavy for me to break the fall completely, so he lands on top of me.

“Rose…I found Dawn…”

“Hush, okay? Don’t talk. Everything’s going to be—” I lift up his shirt to see where all the blood is coming from. “Shit.”

Scratches are everywhere on his stomach. I have to get him to a hospital. I know that blood loss obviously isn’t good. I’m not too sure how to even get him to help. A tear slides down my cheek and onto his neck.

“Donovan, I’m so sorry. I should’ve gone with you. I should’ve…” I wipe blood off his chin.

All of my emotions are out of order. I need my mood ring to control them. My eyes start to freeze; I know I need to do something to stop him from bleeding. I close my eyes. The muscles in my right arm constrict, lifting my hand up. I’m not controlling my body. My palm gently falls onto Donovan’s chest.

His skin burns me. I fight against the pain and a cold breeze inside of me is forming. The sensation travels to the tips of my fingers and circles around the middle of my hand. I snap my eyes open and it is released. Everything I feel…about Donovan, anger, confusion, sadness, and happiness escape from me. My hand freezes on his chest. I feel drained. Exhaustion overwhelms me. I try to force my eyes open, but they soon close.

***

I’ve always wondered how it would feel to glide against the clouds. The exhilaration would make me the happiest witch…or elf, on this planet. Would my body fly against the wind or with it? Or would I fall and lose control?

The tip of my nose brushes against something soft, and my knees dent the mattress I’m lying on. Rough skin rubs my temples. I open my eyes to Donovan’s scratched-up face. He’s not dead, he’s alive. I blink continuously to clear my vision and recollect myself.

“Are you still hurt?” I ask.

Donovan scoots closer to me on the bed. “No, you saved me. I was losing a lot of blood and you did something. Your eyes were really green.” He lowers his gaze. His voice becomes harder to understand. “You weren’t yourself.”

I manage to put his words together. I can still feel the coldness around my eyes; my hands are jittery, twitching slightly. I look up at him and see that the scratches in his skin are now gone. He looks more charming than he has ever before.

“Where am I?”

The walls around us are wooden and there’s dirt on the floor. The bed I’m on is wooden as well. Colorful leaves and tiny trees are in the room. I’m relieved all of a sudden, but my shaking continues. I can’t feel my heartbeat at all. The heaviness from my eyes makes me uncomfortable.

“Rose?” He places his hand on my arm.

I take his arm and bend it, forcing his head to smash into my pillows. I use the leverage to lift myself up from the bed. He reaches for me, but I kick his face.

There are no windows in this room. However, there is a door not too far from me. Dirt crumbles in between my toes as I run for the entrance.

“Rose…don’t—”

I shoot him a glare then spread out my fingers; tiny leaves fly over to him. I pull back the tips of my fingers, controlling the foliage, wrapping it around him. The silver doorknob burns my hand, and a force blasts me away. I am punched against a wall. I land on my palms and snap my head back, looking around.

Something isn’t allowing me to exit this room.

I run back to the door and reach for the knob once more. The same force burns the inside of my palm and then blasts me away, crashing me against the wooden wall again. I kick off from the impact, twirling in the air and landing on the ground lightly. I dig into the dirt under my bare feet, grab a handful, and throw it above me. The dirt freezes in mid-air and I walk underneath it. The pebbled dirt forms into tiny, sharp shards.

“Why isn’t the door opening, witch?”

“Rose—E-Eliza, you’re in a mystic hospital.”

“I don’t care. Let me out!”

“Rose…”

“Who the hell is Rose?”

Afraid yet calm, he throws his broomstick on the ground, presenting himself weaponless, and walks toward me. One pebble above me snaps through the air and grazes his cheek. My hair tingles and feels like it’s full of static.

“I’m not here to hurt you. We’re afraid for your health. Something is wrong.”

The door slides open. I don’t want to look away from the witch in case he attempts to attack me. In my peripheral vision, a girl with black hair flips around.

“She doesn’t care about you, Donovan. Christian already got to her,” she says.

“I still see my Rose. It’s still her.”

“No it isn’t. Don’t move,” she instructs.

The witch clicks on her broomstick; a whip slithers out from the bristles. She strikes it in the air, and I’m aware what might happen next. I release the sharp pebbles from my control, allowing them to aim for the male witch’s face.

The whip slaps across my neck. It’s funny because I never thought it would be me, the one to be vanquished this time. The metal stings my skin; my markings freeze along my skin. The pebbles stop flying and drop to the ground.

The male witch grabs his broomstick from the ground and looks at me.

***

I look at him, distressed, and plead, “Don’t hurt me…please.”

He clicks his broomstick on.

“Please! Don’t!” I struggle to breathe through my clenched teeth, my weary eyes watching him in sadness. Donovan stops in place, biting on his broomstick.

Cry more, you’ve got him.

“
I saved you. I’m not who you think I am!”

“Donovan, do not listen to her,” the girl says. He drops his broomstick and falls to his knees, cupping his face in his hands.

***

“You fools!”

The door slides open once more, and a white cat runs across the floor with a ring in its mouth. The cat looks up at the witch that holds me captive. She takes the ring from the cat’s mouth. It watches me cautiously, then it speaks.

“Am I too late?”

“I’m afraid you might be,” the witch says.