Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2) (8 page)

He’s going to kill him. Stop him, before it’s too late.

“Donovan, you have to stop!” I rush over to him, but he pushes me back against a wall. My shoulder crashes against the wood. “Donovan!” The punches are so loud; Christian is gargling in pain. Donovan cranks back his fist, getting ready to punch the elf’s face. Christian grabs Donovan’s fist and jabs his elbow across his jaw. Donovan stumbles back and clicks on his broomstick, and Christian smiles at the witch in front of him.

“Do it.” He spits the blood from his mouth.

“Donovan, don’t think about Miss Canary,” I say.

His breathing is ragged, and his emotions are raging. “Shut up, Rose.” He swings his whip in the air, wrapping it around Christian. “This elf tried to kill you and you’re still sticking up for him.” He turns to give me the nastiest stare of all. The door opens, and Miss Canary steps inside with a bunch of elves, holding their bows up, ready to shoot.

I hear the electricity in the room growing louder around Christian’s neck. He’s not in pain; he’s laughing.

The whip slithers back into the broomstick handle. Elves rush inside and tie Donovan’s arms with rope. Christian licks the blood on his lips.

“My patience is running thin with you, Donovan,” Miss Canary says. “You proved that you’re out for mystical blood.” She looks at me. “You dare raise your broomstick at Christian when he saved your life in the forest tonight?” She walks over to her favorite elf. “When Donovan caused your transformation to speed up at an abnormal pace?” The elves kick Donovan on the ground, wrapping thick rope around his neck. “The same work of a Verel member?”

“Please don’t hurt him,” I say when an elf brings out his dagger from his pocket, cutting Donovan’s arm slightly. “Eliza, dear, he ran away from you in that forest after he kissed you. He left you to die.”

“I said don’t hurt him!” I shout, rushing over.

Christian grabs me, holding my waist. His bloody face grins down at me. I try to push away from him, but he pulls me back against the wall.

“Why are you fighting against him? He’s only here to help.” Miss Canary’s eyes flick away from me and back to the elves in the room. “Take him to the holding area.”

“Wait! Where are you taking him?” I shout.

“Somewhere dark where he can think properly.”

Donovan looks up at me and then is slapped to look forward. I want to save him, but I feel useless. He’s been there for me each time and here I am worthless. There’s nothing I can do. The door closes and Miss Canary circles around.

“In the meantime, Eliza,” she says, “your new partner will be Christian. He will help you on your next errands.”

“I’m not doing anything for you or the rest of these
mystics
here.”

“Then I’m afraid you cannot leave.” She glances at Christian for a second and leaves the room. I’m forced onto the bed by Christian as soon as Miss Canary exits. I scream, wanting him to leave me alone. Our touch freezes against one another, and blood drops from his mouth onto my collarbone.

“Now that your witch boyfriend is out of the picture, you’re all mine.”

I spit at him while he ties my hands to the bedpost. He takes off his bloody shirt and walks toward the closet, pulling out the rose Miss Canary gave to each of us.

“Once I get out of this hell I’m in, you’re the first one to die.”

“Don’t be so harsh,” he says, walking toward me holding the rose. “I’m only here to help you. I told you I don’t want to kill you. Don’t you think I would have done that already?” Plucking one of the glowing red petals, he drops it on my chest.

“Terese says this rose is rare because the thorns aren’t able to prick you.” He plucks another petal from the flower and drops it down on my stomach. He grabs the fabric of my shirt and rips it down, revealing the rest of my green tattoos.

“There they are.” He rubs his thumb on his chin. “I needed to see how you would react, waking up from a hallucination in that treehouse. If you must know why I left you alone, part of my tale was the truth.”

He leans down, rubbing the palm of his hand on my stomach. We freeze, and I hear the sound of ice cracking.

“Isn’t that feeling the best, Eliza?” He rubs his mouth and smears the blood on my stomach, tracing the tip of a thorn from the rose on my markings.

“Roses are such pure flowers; destroying them is a hard thing to do.”

There’s a quick pinch on my skin while he traces. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m seeing multiples of Christian. he leans down to kiss above my belly button, the warm and wet touch of his tongue on my love handles.

“Where’s Donovan?” I mumble, completely drugged out.

Christian looks up, his green eyes fading to pitch black.

I snap back to reality. I get up from the bed, looking around the room for Christian. He’s gone. I glance down at my shirt; it’s not ripped. There isn’t any blood on my bed sheets or on the floor.

I run to my door, opening to see Miss Canary.

“Oh there you are, Eliza. Good morning.” She places her arm around me and walks me down the hallway, passing the large window.

It’s snowing outside and it’s not dark; it’s a new day.

How is it snowing?

I stand in front of the window, placing my hand on the glass. I pull my hair in front of my shoulders, glancing down, my hands starting to tremble. I lift a strand of hair up in front of my eyes, noticing I’m blonde. I search for more strands, seeing if the rest of my head is blonde. It is. I cover my mouth in shock.

Miss Canary is watching me, puzzled. “Are you okay, dear?”

“No I’m not. What the hell is going on? Why is my hair blonde? Why is it snowing outside? And where’s Donovan?”

She walks over toward me.

“Do not touch me,” I growl.

I run back into my room, looking for my broomstick, but it’s gone. There’s a bow by my bed, and that is it. Christian did something to me. I can’t remember what, and it feels like I’m losing my memory. My head is throbbing in pain.

Ms. Canary steps into the room behind me. “I’ve come to tell you what your next errands are.”

“Fuck your errands,” I say. “You’re going to tell me what happened to Donovan, why my hair is blonde, and why it’s snowing outside or—”

The elves from outside enter the room with their weapons drawn.

“Or what? Is there a problem?” Miss Canary says.

I recognize these elves; they’re the ones who hauled Donovan to someplace called their holding area. Christian’s done something with my memory. I can’t remember why they took Donovan away. It feels like I’m in some sort of dreamland, or in this case a peaceful reverie, according to Miss Canary.

I don’t know why Mom told me if anything were to happen to go to an old lady suffering from senility. I clench my fingers into a fist. I’ll play the part all right.

“What are the errands?” I ask.

She clears her throat, allowing her guards to fall back outside of the room. The only way I’m going to get through this is going with the flow until I figure out what’s really going on.

She looks at me; I forget they can feel emotions and read people well. I sit up straight.

“Follow me, dear.”

She walks out of the room, and I leave with her. We make our way down the hallways toward the brown double doors. That I remember. The only thing I can’t really remember is why Donovan was removed from my room. My memory went black, seeing Christian’s eyes. Miss Canary pushes the doors open as we walk in between the fancy dinner tables. Her throne is ahead of us, but we walk by it. Behind this throne is another door; she enters it.

“I know this is a dumb thing to ask, but I was wondering if witches
do
have powers?” I walk inside the room, closing the door to see Miss Canary looking through a bunch of books.

“There are some, with abilities, but that’s a
mythical
assumption,” she replies.

“So it’s not real?”

“I’m not saying it’s not real. It’s just that no one alive has…Well, no one has encountered a witch with said ability.”

“What is this ability?” I ask.

“My dear, is something wrong?”

Obviously a whole lot is wrong. I’m in a completely new body. I’m hearing the slightest of things, and if no one knows who I truly am, they’ll think I’m an elf like the rest of these freaks here.

“Plain curiosity.”

“Well, it’s said that one can possess any of the mystic abilities, but of course it’s only a bedtime story for mystics.”

“Why is it a bedtime story?”

“They’re called myths, a monster to mystics, and if one controls an elf’s powers, it’s a nightmare.”

“That’s any of the mystics right? Elf, mermaid, shifter, and fairy abilities.”

She twists around with the rare rose I’ve seen countless times. “Yes, that’s right.”

Chapter 8

She picks with the thorns and brushes the petals across her face. Red dust from the rose trickles down from its stem. This rose is starting to drive me crazy.

“Do you remember why this rose is rare, Eliza?”

“Because it doesn’t snap.”

“It holds a rare power as well.” She takes my arm and walks me over to stand in front of a large mirror. “It connects things together.” She places her middle finger on the surface and weeds and leaves trace over the border.

She lifts up my chin, forcing me to look at myself.

“Look at those freckles and your light green eyes. You fit right in.”

I blink at my reflection in the mirror, opening my eyes wider to see a silver shimmer around my pupils. Frantically, I blink again to see if it was really there. A raging headache sneaks up on me.

***

My mother’s face is pale and lifeless as a single tear slides down her cheek, and she says, “Thank you.” To me for killing—for murdering—her. Her body flashes out and the scene changes to me wearing a spiked crown with petals around the twigs that circle my head. I lift my hand up, and blood drips down to my white gown. A figure is standing in the forest with many beady green eyes within the darkness, watching me. I step forward, feeling moist dirt in between my toes. The trees are whispering; the leaves are calling my name among their slight rustle. The figure holds out their hand for me to take as I’m pulled out of the trance.

***

I hope for Donovan to come charging in like he always does and kill this elf that’s beside me. She’s now gone and the door to her hidden room is open. Miss Canary is pure and innocent, but I can’t forget that she’s a mystic like the ones we’ve killed in the forest. From what I encountered, mystics are never afraid of anything. Corrupt ones, that is. I have the sudden urge to see Christian and tell him I am sorry for the way I’ve acted. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I walk toward the door in the room, taking another glance at the rose on the desk. I open the door and leave the room, walking down the hallways of the castle, past many rooms and pictures of elves on the walls.

A child elf runs in front of me and stops, dropping his stick toy on the floor. I remember him from somewhere. He runs toward me, hugging my thighs with a giggle. I hear running feet then his mother exhales in relief. She crosses her arms. The little elf skips back to his mother, and she picks him up and walks back into her room.

I trail my fingers on the leafy walls, my shadow along the floor with each step I make. I hover my hands over the vines on the walls; they move with the direction I wave. Eventually I discover what looks like a library. The room is surrounded by crystalized glass walls, so anyone can see you inside.

The bookshelves rise high to the ceilings. I gaze up at them, losing my balance. I step backward, bumping into a chair, and the scent of old books awakens my senses. I think about what Miss Canary said about witches possessing mystic abilities.

I lose myself in the dozens of aisles of books. I approach a section where the books are coated in red and gold. Walking in the middle of the shelves, my left arm begins to freeze, and my right arm starts to warm up. I clench my fingers into fists. I thumb through the many books in the library, my markings reacting vividly on and off, like they are metal detecting.

A particular book is glowing. None of the other books around this section glow but this one. My markings sizzle wildly while I come closer to the book. I poke at its bind, and immense pain punches inside my stomach, the same feeling from back at home when Mom vanished through the Ravamere portal. My body was thrown onto the couch, and images rapidly flashed through my mind.

This is the exact pain I am feeling once more, and I can feel my head pinching, getting ready for the images to sprint through my mind. It doesn’t even take a second until I hit the ground, my eyes shutting.

***

A blonde woman walks near the edges of a beautiful lake in a flowy light blue dress; her hair is curled, her cheeks rosy red. She is holding what looks like a broomstick in her left hand, silver witch markings swirling around her arm. Wind tickles across her face, and her hair flows behind her shoulders. The lake’s mist licks against her golden skin, and her right arm glows with the dark blue markings on the surface of her skin.

“Lauren? Where are you?”

My grandmother…

“Over here, William.” She tilts her head to the side, glancing up at him.

“Is it true that Alec Verel saw you talking to a corrupt elf?”

Lauren smiles. “Yes, I’m afraid it’s true,” she says, gazing off at the pond before her. She walks out into the middle of light ripples of liquid and glances down at the water. Her ocean blue markings glow as she steps further toward the center of the pond.

“What in the world were you thinking? Do you know what you’ve done to our family? We all could be in danger. That elf is affiliated with Ravamere,” he snaps.

“What about our daughter? Have you thought about her and her future?”

He’s becoming angry, and she knows this.

“It was the only way I could get the truth about who I am…who I’m meant to be.” She clears her throat. “Please, William, keep Grace safe, and baby Eliza will be fine.

“I can do amazing things. That elf helped me, William.”

The waves circle around her, and she laughs. The markings trace her collarbone all the way down to her sides. She waves her hands out above the water, twisting her wrist and bringing up a clear bubble of water to float in front of them. She smiles at this, fluttering her eyes up at her lover. William steps back in shock, holding onto his broomstick. He’s clearly afraid, and she can sense this.

“They were right. Innocence does feel tasteful.” Her eyes are now glowing blue.

“Lauren, if you can’t handle this, you’ll be corrupt.”

From what he knew, this was only a myth, and now he is seeing one in real life, something made up to scare little kid witches.

Lauren grins at William. Her eyes are cold blue with a silver shimmer within. It is true the witch she used to be is gone; the myth within has been unleashed. She flicks out her hands at him, and a dozen water bubbles shoot in William’s direction, covering his face in a large bubble, drowning him. Lauren twirls around in the water, splashing around and laughing. She dives, disappearing into the pond as her lover dies a suffocating death.

***

It’s like I’m stuck in a never ending nightmare. I remembered the first vision I had with Alec Verel, when I was sucked into my grimoire, landing in a scene where my great-grandmother Mellissa Morolov fought Alec in the woods because he was a traitor, and helped Lauren with finding Ravamere. All of the missing pieces were finally coming together. From what I saw in my vision or whatever it was, Lauren must have already given birth to my mom Grace, and could William be her father?
My grandfather?

I place the book back with the others. There are thousands of books. It means that Lauren carried her myth over to Mom, which brought it over to—

“There you are.”

I smell the mint I’m so familiar with. I feel like I should be happy that he’s here. I take another book from the shelf. Skin tickles against my back, and an arm reaches for the book, closing it. I bump into Christian’s chest.

“I don’t know what you did to me, but I’m going to find out.”

“Why are you reading a stupid book?” he asks, avoiding my question.

“That’s none of your business.”

He leans down closer to me. “Everything about you is my business,” he says, trailing his lips across my cheek, like I was his possession. “I like the new hair color.” His fingers explore my loose strands. “It fits you.”

The leafy markings on his neck are glowing, and so are mine.

“I like the new you.”

Everything he’s saying to me makes me forget about hating him. I want him to kiss me; it’s killing me inside. I exhale, breathing freezing air.

“Don’t go looking for your witch boyfriend,” he demands.

“You don’t want him to fool around with me anymore.” Something about Christian is forcing me to say things I normally wouldn’t.

“If I find you with him, I’m putting you in your place.” He thrusts against me, causing a few books to fall from above me. Holding my wrists, he bites on my bottom lip.

“What do you want me to do?” I say, realizing that he’s playing with my emotions and is in my head. I move my head to the side, preventing him from kissing me anymore. The more his lips touch mine, the weaker I grow.

Kiss him, kiss him, just once, Eliza.

“Get out of my head,” I struggle to say.”

“You asked me to put you in your place, remember?” He plays with my hair in between his fingers. “Well I’m doing it.” That’s a lie. I told
Donovan
to put me in my place. “Hitting me solves nothing. I like it when you hit me, though; it’s feisty and cute,” he growls.

I try to stay focused, because none of this is real, and I truly don’t want him all over me again. Well, I’m pretty sure I don’t. Avoiding eye contact, I cross my arms over my chest.

“Rose, I mean it. If you don’t want me to kill the dude, don’t hang with him.” Donovan cocks his head to the side, forcing me to look at him
.
It’s
Donovan
talking to me, and I become lost in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Donovan?” I blink, seeing him morph back into Christian. This is slowly driving me insane. Elves are worse than fairies.

I need to keep Donovan safe.

“You’re jealous because he already has me and you don’t,” I say, looking directly at Christian.

“I get what I want.”

“Leave me alone, and stay out of my head.” I brush past him to walk away, but he grabs my arm.

“Let go of me!”

“Or what?” he says.

“You really don’t want to see what I’m capable of.” I twist his wrist, and he grunts in pain. “Don’t think that you’ve tricked my mind into thinking I like you. I’m aware of who you are—what’s real and what isn’t.” I push him against the bookshelf, and books drop down on his head. “Don’t forget that you’re playing with a witch and not one of these elves around here.”

He flips over, belly up, chuckling. “Feisty…”

“And murderous.”

“Terese wants to see us,” he says, rubbing his face.

I huff, leaving the library and him behind in the sea of books.

***

“Ahh, Eliza, so happy you’ve decided to join me. I suppose you received the message from Christian?”

I don’t want to be here right now. Everything inside of me wants to kill them both. “Yeah, I got it.” I walk over to him, looking up at the pink and green leaves. “Where’s Donovan?”

The two elves ignore my question and continued to murmur in conversation.

The queen and prince of Ellevil walk toward me.

Miss Canary’s office is beautiful. Its glass rises above us, creating an elegant glass dome that extends into the woods. It’s truly amazing how large this castle really is. From the outside you’d think otherwise.

“I’ve summoned you two here because I want to talk about Eliza’s errand,” Miss Canary says. “You’re not going to run into Emily. Don’t worry.”

“She had enough, huh?” I can’t hold back my chuckle, thinking back to the fight we had.

“She’s with Donovan.” Her eyes dart up at me, expecting a wild reaction.

I decide not to give it to her and hope I can refrain from asking what they were doing.

“Guess you’re stuck with me.” Christian grins.

“As far as you know, Eliza, you’re aware that you’re in a kingdom, correct?” Miss Canary says, taking a book from her bookshelf. She opens it and licks the tip of her index finger, riffling through the pages.

“A kingdom is like a place ruled by a queen or king, or both, right?”

“That’s what humans believe a kingdom is,” she says, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong, Eliza.”

“Well what’s a kingdom then?”

Miss Canary spreads her fingers wide, her palms facing the ceiling. Gold and green orbs float around us, the same ones she presented to me at her house earlier. About thirty tiny orbs race around the room. She flashes her sharp teeth, clenching her fingers together into two fists. A blast of wind blows against my face as all the orbs come together, forming floating images of fairies around the room.

“These are fairies.” She waves at the images in the air. “They’re obviously not here in person, so they can’t do anything to you.” She stands behind the images. “Each mystic we know of has a mystical kingdom where their kind lives. Corrupt mystics, ‘the rogue’ of our kind, are not allowed to live in their kingdoms, so they’re set off on their own to survive,” she explains. “You can call their home Ravamere.”