Spellbound (18 page)

“—run.”

I went after her.

I caught up with Roni at the back door, which was locked. As she whaled on it, I pulled her back.

“So now you've trapped us in a dead end,” I hissed. “Wonderful.”

“It's only locked,” she said. “You've got a spell for that, don't you?”

“Normally, yes, but I was poisoned recently, which explains why you haven't seen me cast anything.”

I reached for the door. A prick in the back of my arm made me jump. Roni fell back, clutching a needle.

“You little bitch!” I said.

“It'll be okay, Savannah. I'd never hurt you. And they'd never let me. You're too important.”

I swung at her. She tried to duck, but my fist connected and she went down. I spun toward the exit. Even when I stopped moving, though, the hall kept going, around and around. My fingers clasped the handle. It turned. It hadn't been locked after all. I flung it open, staggering out, the stench of garbage making my stomach churn. I stumbled against a trash can. It took everything I had to stay upright.

“Hello, Savannah.”

I lifted my head to see a man and a woman standing there. I twisted. Two men blocked the other way. I tried to turn back, but my feet slid on the gravel. Someone behind caught me, and the last thing I heard was Roni saying, “Her friends are coming. The half-demon and the werewolf. We need to go.”

 

 

I woke tied to a chair. Everything was dark, but when I moved my head, I couldn't feel a blindfold.

I tried to twist and feel how I was bound, but my hands were tied back-to-back and I couldn't stretch my fingers enough to touch anything.

I closed my eyes and worked on inhaling and exhaling, struggling to slow my galloping heart.

Kidnapped.

If anyone else was here, I'd joke about how this made me a legitimate challenger to Jaime's record. Kidnapped again. Ha-ha.

Only it wasn't funny at all. When I saw that blackness and felt my bound wrists, panic surged, tugging behind it the memories of kidnappings past.

The first time, I'd been captured with my mother. They'd come for her and I'd been home playing sick, so she'd had to protect me, which meant she couldn't get away. She'd died without ever getting away.

The second time I'd been captured by my father. He'd been fighting Paige for custody and unable to tell his side of the story, so he took me. Then Leah convinced me he'd murdered Paige, and in a blind tantrum of spell-powered rage, I'd killed him.

Two kidnappings. Two deaths.

Who would die this time?

No one. I couldn't get anyone else hurt here. I was alone.

But for how long? The familiar bulge of a cell phone in my rear pocket was gone. Had they disabled it before Adam could get coordinates?

What if Adam came? What if he got killed—?

A door behind me squeaked open. Light flooded in. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder and instead took stock of my surroundings to see what I could use in a fight. Not a damned thing, unless I could play lion tamer with my chair.

“Savannah?”

My hackles rose at that voice.

Roni walked in front of me, circling wide as if I might lunge and bite her. Tempting.

“I'm sorry it had to be this way.”

I spat. Sadly, I missed.

“It's your own fault,” she said, her mouth going rigid. “All you had to do was come and help me when I asked. That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? Help people? The others said it wouldn't work, because you aren't like Paige and Lucas. I insisted on trying. That's ironic, isn't it? A witch-hunter championing the goodness of a witch? But you proved me wrong.” Disappointment leached into her voice. “They aren't very happy with me now, especially after you killed Maddie and now it looks like Tyler might die, too. Your werewolf friend hurt him pretty bad.”

Tyler must have been the man who went after Elena. I remembered what Roni had said before I passed out, about my “half-demon and werewolf” friends coming after me. So Elena was fine. Like Adam said she'd be.

I relaxed. “That's what Tyler gets for taking on a werewolf. And if Maddie was the woman in the parking garage, I didn't kill her. She swallowed poison.”

“Because of you. So as far as they're concerned, you killed her.”

“That wasn't your aunt, was it?”

“No, just a group member who kind of looked like me.”

It took a moment for me to process what that meant. Roni's family had never been chasing her. She'd pretended they were, with the help of these people. A setup to convince me that she was in trouble.

“So no one from your family was involved in this. They knew nothing about it. You're the witch-hunter and you killed your cousin because she tried to stop you.”

“I had nothing to do with Amy's death. She had her own problems.”

A lie. I was sure of it. Had Amy found out Roni was mixed up in something? Had Amy threatened to tell their family. Did Roni kill her? Or did these people, when Roni told them? It didn't matter. Not now.

“So your aunt was right—they stopped hunting witches and you didn't. You went rogue.”

A smug smile. “I went more rogue than they could ever imagine. I'm not a witch-hunter anymore. I'm a witch.”

I laughed. She didn't like that.

“If they're promising to make you a witch, you slept through part of your witch-hunter training,” I said. “We're born, not made.”

“That's what you think. They're making me one by injecting me with witches' blood.”

I sighed. “If it was that easy, don't you think every freaking supernatural would do it? Add spellcasting to his repertoire? Hell, why not just take the rest, too, while you're at it—some half-demon blood, sorcerer, shaman, necromancer . . . The only supernatural power that can be transferred is a werewolf's, through saliva. Your chances of surviving that are one in a hundred. And, no offense, Roni, but you aren't strong enough to be in that one percent.”

“You think I'm not becoming a witch? Then explain this.”

She took a piece of chalk from her pocket, drew a symbol on the floor, and laid a leathery scrap on it. She lit the scrap on fire, recited an incantation, and a tiny fireball, no bigger than a firefly, exploded above it.

When I laughed, her face darkened. “I'm just starting. It will take lots of practice and months of blood therapy, but someday I'll be a real witch.”

“Um, no. You won't. Do you remember when you came to my hospital room, and I knocked you flat on your ass? No chalk symbols. No bits of dried flesh. No matches. Hell, I wasn't even awake. What you've done here is a parlor trick. Friends of mine found a cult of humans doing magic like that a few years ago.”

“They were the first,” Roni said. “Our methods have much improved since then.”

While Jeremy and Karl had eliminated the cult that Jaime uncovered, a few had escaped. Was that Roni's group? Were they the ones who'd found a way to free Leah? Sure, there could be two entirely separate groups hell-bent on getting me, but that sounded a little too close to a teenage girl's popularity fantasy for my tastes. Especially considering Roni had been in Columbus before Leah lured me there. They wanted me because I was both witch and sorcerer, with a little demon tossed in, meaning if they really believed blood would—

Oh, shit.

“Remember how I said poison knocked out my spells? I lied. I have a virus. A really nasty virus. One of those, um, hemorrhagic fevers.”

Her nose scrunched up. “Huh?”

“Never mind. Just . . . Okay, I get it, you want supernatural powers. Who doesn't? I know I'd love to have mine—I mean, I love mine. When I'm not sick, that is, which is really just temporary. But if you want power, real power, I know people—”

The door squeaked open again. “Veronica?” a woman's voice said. “I thought you were just checking to see if she's awake.”

“She is.”

“So I see,” the woman said dryly. “You may leave now, Veronica. I believe it's time for your blood therapy.”

The woman came to stand in front of me. A man followed. He was in his midthirties, with sleek dark brown hair, lazy dark eyes, and a close-trimmed beard. He wore a brilliant blue button-down shirt, slacks, and loafers, all designer brands. His teeth shone. His hair shone. Even his fingernails shone. The woman beside him did not shine. At least two decades older, she was plump, with faded blue eyes and coarse gray hair cut to her shoulders. She wore a brown dress that did neither her figure nor her coloring any favors.

The peacock and the wren,
I thought.

“Giles,” the man said, making an odd little bow in my direction.

When his gaze swept over me, that lazy look vanished. The peacock vanished, too, and I saw a hawk instead, surveying potential prey. The change of expression lasted only a moment before he fixed on a mild smile, stepped away, and motioned for the woman to take over.

“Althea,” the woman said.

She paused, eyeing me as if waiting for a reaction. Was I supposed to know her? I didn't, and when that was clear, she nodded, seeming satisfied rather than disappointed.

“Are you hungry, Savannah?” she asked. “Thirsty?”

When I said nothing, she pressed, her broad face gathering in concern until Giles sighed and said, “Prisoner politics, my dear. She won't ask for anything, be it water or answers.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “I'll get something on the plane. I think I've missed my flight, but there was another one this evening. Mind if I rebook? I was really kind of in a hurry to get someplace.”

“Miami,” Giles said. “Yes, we know. I'm afraid tonight won't be possible. Would tomorrow suffice?”

“Well, okay. I was hoping for tonight, but tomorrow will do. Can you get me an upgrade? I prefer business class, but the bosses always send me coach.”

“He isn't joking, Savannah,” Althea said. “You really can be on a flight tomorrow.”

“Just give you what you want, right? Spill my guts. Tell you everything you need to know. Or is it my blood you want to spill? If so, we'll make a deal. You get some from your usual source, and we'll tell Roni it's mine. Not like you're actually giving her witches' blood. The point is just to make her think she's getting it, which might actually make her a better spellcaster. The mind is a powerful thing.”

Giles laughed. “Don't worry, Savannah, we have no interest in your blood. We don't want your answers either. You've already given enough of those.”

I stiffened before I could stop myself.

“Oh, don't worry, it was quite unwitting. You've told us what we needed to know, though. Now all we want is . . .” He smiled. “Your friendship.”

With that, he turned and walked out, Althea following.

What the hell had I told them? Nothing, I was sure of it. Mind games. Even if they used some kind of truth serum, I needed to be awake for that, and I'd been knocked out since they'd grabbed me.

Speaking of mind games, they'd left me in darkness. Really not the road to friendship.

A while later the door opened again. Minutes, hours, I didn't know. The light flicked on and a single set of hesitant footsteps crossed the room. Roni. I winced.

She put a chair in front of me, then settled in for a visit.

For a minute, we only looked at each other. Then she said, “You're mad at me, aren't you?”

If I'd had my spells, I'd have zapped her with an energy bolt for that one. Maybe even accidentally launched a lethal one.

“They aren't going to hurt you,” she said. “You're too important. As soon as you know everything, you'll understand why I did it. Then everything will be okay.”