The Carver's Magic (25 page)

"No." She pointed her finger at me, "What I am saying is Dar is in trouble and he needs your help, but you can’t help him until you are secure in knowing he is your mate. I am also saying that Cory is Shane’s mate and that Shane’s father is not going to allow them to be together, so you will also need to help Shane.”

That goes without saying. He was tied to Cory so I had to help him on principle.

“You are my gambit Beth, I am putting all my hope in you."

Sobering to the added responsibility, I ask, "Is Cory going to be okay?"

The witch nodded warmly, "So are you." Then she looked behind me and narrowed her eyes as if she saw something in the air.

Hesitantly, I ask, "Am I really his mate?"

The witch peered back at me, "Yes." Then she looked behind me again so I turned around and saw nothing. When I looked back at I saw her mouth move, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Without warning she reached in her skirt and pulled out a black rock. She was looking it over as it began to clear to a white rock, "Your war is about to begin."

Not helpful. I shake my head at her.

"It's time to go back," she holds the stone in her hand for me to take. Before I reach for the rock she says, "The poison is still inside him. He is holding on to it." Her eyes tell me that this is really important. I would have asked why, but she dropped the clear rock into my hand, transporting me back to Dar’s bathroom.

* * *

I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I’ve had better days. I lock the door and rest my forehead against the wood door. I try and keep my mind blank instead of reviewing what the witch just told me. My way of letting my feelings putter out. I inhale. I exhale. Once more, I inhale and exhale thinking of only blackness. Not thoughts, no worries.

I’m a gambit. I don’t even know what the hell that means. I squeeze my eyes and remind myself I need to… then I remember my cocoon. I feel the lightness around me instantly.

I open my eyes and my cocoon has a sweet, white leather chair. I jump feet first on the big lazy boy looking chair and snuggle in. Oh it’s heaven. I can’t see anything other than my chair but I can honestly say if this was my heaven, it would be worth being good for the rest of my life.

I started laughing and the fire came out in spurts. I covered my mouth, not ever having done that before. My fire was never predictable. Just like me. I felt a surge tingle inside of me. It was so sweet it made me want to sleep in this wonderful place.

I was relaxed. I smiled again at the tingles caressing my skin. Oh my gosh they felt so good. Like fizzy soda.

I closed my eyes and just sat there in the silence. This was exactly what I needed. I sat until I was practically humming with my fire at full strength. My fire was done sitting and wanted to get out and do anything. Since I was in agreement, I did just that.

Out of the white cocoon I was standing in the front room of Dar’s house made mostly of caramel colored wood. Dar was at the bar in his kitchen, I assumed drinking something that looked a lot like scotch.

“What time is it?” I ask judgmentally. It couldn’t have been past six in the morning and this guy was tossing em’ back already?

“Time for you to meet with the council. They’re in the den.” He took another sip. His expressionless face didn’t bother me. He seemed to have mastered that look. Leaving the glass on the bar, I followed him down a series of steps.

For a basement, it looked pretty clean. I looked around and saw the old witch-shifter standing in the corner. She was dressed in the same dress when I met her in the woods. She looked at me with indifference as if she didn’t know me. Odd. Dar stopped once we were in the middle of the half circle of people.

“You may go, Dar,” an older, Native American man with long hair, wrinkled skin, and small lips said. He had a round charm around his neck with four different colors. His knees were well above his hips as he sat in that rickety old chair. He was tall, broad and had a belly too. Naturally I didn’t like him for dismissing the one person I trusted more than anyone else in the room of strangers.

Without another word, or even shooting me a mental warning to be good, Dar turned around and headed back up the stairs. I purse my lips in his direction, wondering how the hell I could have such a jerk for a mate. I am not the warmest person in the world, but I wouldn’t have left anyone alone with the Magical Council. Not even Shane.

When the door shut above the stairs, the Native American pointed at the wicker seat in front of me. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to sit down in front of all these people, I’m not dumb, “I don’t plan to be here that long.”

No one looked pleased by my presence, or my words. Unfazed, I jutted my chin towards the model looking man with a black t-shirt and red scarf. “Who are you?”

His eyes narrowed in amusement, “I’m Antrom.” My fire flickered. He was the one who wanted to hurt Cory and her family. This was not starting off well, not that I expected it.

I rolled my eyes dramatically and looked at the person sitting next to him. This person was stocky, with dark brown hair, a red beard, and a plaid green shirt. I didn’t have to guess, this guy was Irish. The woman next to him had red, bushy hair. She was pretty and even though I knew she didn’t like me outright, I had to give her props on her navy colored dress.

The man pointed at himself with beefy fingers, “Finn.” He crooked his head to the woman next to him, “My wife, Roisin. We rule together over the house of the witches.” He leaned back and pointed at the old grey haired witch standing fastidiously behind them, “This is our advisor, Duretta. She’s the seer.”

The old lady had yet to look at me. She was just staring at something or maybe she was getting a vision. Which to be honest, pissed me off. Mere minutes ago she talked to me like she was the Carver’s defender and now. . . nothing.

Next to Roisin stood a man in a white button-up with grey slacks, slick black shoes, and matching belt. He looked Slavic. He was clean shaven with a strong jaw line, dark eyes, and thick eyebrows. He half smiled, showing his vampire teeth. His way of letting me know he was a vampire, “I’m the Horde king, Deyan.”

I hope my face didn’t express my surprise. I heard stories about this guy. And even though he was dressed sharp, he looked every bit of the scary-ass man that I read about. Defensively, I would have to take him out first if I had any chance of getting out of here alive, if it came to that. Behind him was a Middle Eastern, tall man, with shoulder length black hair, and deep-set eyes. He had high cheekbones and an angular face. He was as tall as the Horde king.

“One of your enforcers?” I asked without sounding nervous, even though I was starting to feel it.

“Kresso is my head enforcer.” His words sounded like they were friendly, but there was definitely something itching at him. His enforcer didn’t look at me. He was looking behind me, studying something carefully. His eyes were moving back and forth as if he were reading something. Vampires must have good vision. The sidekick must not find me a big threat because he was ignoring me all together.

Interesting.

“And you’re Dar’s father,” I say to the man who looked at me with the most disgust out of all the members. And that’s saying a lot with a fairy in the room.

“Jeri.”

The first one to speak after several moments of silence was Antrom. “We know the Carvers see you as their chosen. Our seer,” he pointed in Duretta’s direction, “was the one who first saw the vision. A Carver spy reported it back to your rebels when you were born.”

Finn interjected, “We’ve heard this before Antrom. I doubt this is new.” He looked at me pointedly, “Is it?”

“It’s probably best if you just tell me what you want, or what you think you’re going to charge me with.” I took a moment to reflect to myself on how lucky I was to not only meet and piss off Shane’s father, the leader of the Carver’s rebellion, but now I am front and center at a Magical Council hearing, informally of course, because they were trying to keep this low key. If anything went wrong, they could twist the story. I wondered if they knew how stupid it was to put a person like me, a living fireball, in an enclosed area.

The Horde king turned his wrists at his side and I heard several joints popping from his arm joints. His expression, calm, but I felt anything but. “You killed my enforcer, Patra. Your sister has a contract out on her head because she’s made forbidden potions and performed fae magic in front of humans. You were once under the informal protection of the Magic Council while we ascertained your power source and how to destroy someone like you. However, that time has passed. Your time is up.”

I forced myself not to show weakness. Instead I used my only form of defense. I tapped my lips with my right index finger, looking dramatically confused.

“Is that straight forward enough, Beth?” The Horde king stood unnaturally still. Only his lips moved when he spoke. I wanted to do a full-body shiver.

I peered to my right, then left. I had a mouth full of comebacks. I opened my mouth to say something, but I shut it as the thought occurred to me.

I’m underground.

The entire Magical Council is right in front of me, and I stupidly thought they didn’t have a strategic plan in place.

I exhaled, letting the dread surround me.

Carvers had strong power sources, but they weren’t the only ones who could wield spells and magic. I had completely stumbled into their web. And their cocky attitudes were confirmation that they felt they had an ace up their sleeve. An ace, by the name of Dar, who had the power to control me.

I had another second before they realized I knew what was going on, so I pushed at my power and told time to stop. Amazingly it did.

I took a relieved breath and tried to teleport. Nothing. I didn’t move.

Not good.

I walked up the stairs to confront Dar and to have a very fiery talk about giving me over to the Magic Council, but the door wouldn’t budge. I pushed harder and then tried to use my magic. Nothing.

He locked me in? With the council?

Inhale. One
Mississippi
. . .

Exhale. Two
Mississippi
. . .

Inhale. Three
Mississippi
. . .

I made myself go back down the stairs, into the place that felt like it was already getting smaller.

It was just my imagination. I knew that and I wasn’t going to let this situation get the better of me. No way.

It was plenty big. I didn’t see a vent, but I told myself it was okay. There was plenty of air. I stood by Jeri and noticed the color under his chair was oak, not dirt like the floor was. Then another thought pinged my mind.

Fearing the worst, went to brush Jeri’s shoulder and my hand swept right through him. Hologram. Crap!

He was watching me with sadistic amusement. They weren’t even in here. They must be upstairs because there was no wood anywhere. I walked to each person to confirm my theory.

A few were smirking but no one said anything or laughed, they just sat there in their unlatching, raggedy looking chairs that could have been held together with a few nails, if that, and stared.

This was their move. They planned to catch me like a rodent in a cage. They were idiots. As soon as I figured out how to get around their dumb magic I was out of here.

I yawned at them. This was so beneath me. I rolled my back while I thought about a few things I could do to get out of this dumb cage. After a second I looked over to the wicker seat.

I sat down on the wicker chair and reclined in, getting comfortable. Then I felt something move underneath me. I sat up at the same time the movement slinked down my legs. Everything happened so fast

Something had punched through both shins and tied me to the legs of the chair. Then the same bone crunching feeling ricocheted up my arms as the wicker pushed through my forearms and wrapped my arms, tying me to the chair.

I screamed. And I kept screaming. And my fire ignited in my stomach rushing up my throat. My screams were coupled with fire similar to a flamethrower. My fire kept coming out and filling up the room. The chair tipped over and the pain vibrated through me like a massive electric current.

This was too much. I couldn’t take this. Then I felt pressure and another snap as the wicker chair punched through my stomach. I instantly vomited blood. I think.

Die. Why wasn’t I dead yet. There was a constant circulation of electrical current running through my body. I screamed fire. I vomited blood. Over and over.

My fire surrounded me and had taken hold of the house. I could have imagined it but my mind seemed to be in a world of everything and nothing. I knew without really knowing that the house was on fire and I also knew that I was the only one in the house. The fire knew and therefore, somehow, I knew.

My skin ripped. My screams changed to screeches. My vision blurred to white. I felt heavy. Really heavy. The pain stopped screaming inside of me. Instead it felt, bearable, like a fire ant bite.

I tried to move but I felt stuck, like inside a box. I pushed and I felt the earth below me move. I pushed harder and the box started to break around me. One last push and I was free.

The white haze started to fade. I looked around and my vision was different. I could see currents of colors. I was on the floor, on my belly. When I tried to get up I found my hands were claws, and my wings had claws, and my belly was large, and my legs were thick and strong, and I felt my… tail swish behind me.

Tail? Wings? What. The. Hell?

I’m a dragon?

I could see the entire basement was outlined in a pepto bismol pink. I could smell the fire still eating the house. It had not finished, and it wouldn’t stop until the house was ash. The fire had planned to eat through the walls around me, the only problem I could tell was that the basement was already collapsed and the magic was still in place. I was trapped.

Inhale.

Exhale . . . ball of fire.

Inhale.

Think
. I can do this. Cory said I limit myself to my own perceptions. My own rules limited myself. There’s a way to do this. Think!