Unraveled (21 page)

“How did you get down in there?” he said. “Determined little thing, aren't you?”

All I could do was stare up at him, my body feeling cold, heavy, and numb, and my mind growing foggier and foggier as the sedative swept through me.

He shook his head. “Now I'm going to have to slice through all the ropes and move all the trunks just to get you out of there. . . .”

The dwarf kept muttering to himself about how much trouble I was causing him, but I could do nothing to stop him, so I tuned him out.

My fingers felt as cold, heavy, and numb as the rest of my body, and I fumbled in my jacket pocket, trying to pull out my cell phone. It took me three tries, but I finally managed it.

I squinted at the screen, trying to see my contacts. For once, I was glad that Silvio had programmed my phone with a special spider rune beside his name. Like the Bat Signal, but in reverse, for when you wanted to summon Alfred instead of Bruce Wayne.

Ira was standing on top of the stagecoach, and he reached into his jeans pocket, drew out a switchblade, and flicked it open.

I hit the screen, determined to make my call before the dwarf cut through the ropes and then used that knife to cut into me. A second later, the call went through. True to form, the person on the other end answered almost immediately.

“What's up, Gin?” Silvio's voice filled my ear. “Do you need something?”

“I—” That one single word came out as a garbled croak.

“Gin?” Silvio's voice immediately sharpened. “What's going on? What's wrong?”

“I—” I tried again, but the sound was as garbled as before.

The balloon of my mind seemed to be drifting farther and farther away from the rest of me, higher and higher and faster and faster all the while. I needed to tell Silvio what had happened. About Finn, Bria, and Owen being captured. About me being drugged. About the man looming over me with a knife.

But only one thought filled my mind, along with those strange, crazy giggles.

“Don't eat the barbecue,” I whispered, giggles punctuating each and every word. “Don't eat the barbecue. . . .”

“Gin? Are you drunk? Are you hurt? Where are you? What's happening?” Silvio's voice sharpened with every single word, and I could hear his fingers flying over a keyboard.

I wondered if the vamp was already trying to track my phone. Probably. He was extremely efficient that way. The thought made me giggle again.

Ira leaned down and pried the phone out of my fingers. “I don't think you need to be making any calls right now.”

“Gin? Gin! Who is that talking? Are you still there? Gin!” Silvio's voice continued to sound through the phone.

Ira rolled his eyes at Silvio's frantic cries, ended the call, and stuffed my phone into his jeans pocket as though it were his own. I really was out of my mind because, instead of being concerned, I focused my gaze on the white lights flashing on the dwarf's snowflake Christmas sweater. Such pretty, pretty lights . . .

Ira frowned and leaned down again, the switchblade glinting like liquid silver in his hand.

Mercifully, the drug finally pulled me under before I saw or felt him stab me with the blade.

 17 

My mom's annual holiday party was in full swing.

I peered through the railing that lined the second-floor balcony, staring down at all the elegantly dressed people filling our large living room below. Men in classic black tuxedos, diamond cuff links winking on their shirtsleeves. Women in colorful ball gowns, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds hanging from their ears, necks, and wrists. Even up here, above the soft, trilling carols of the harpists, I could hear the whispers of all those precious stones, each and every one vainly singing about its own sparkling beauty.

Waiters clad in red and green tuxedo vests moved through the crowd, handing out dainty appetizers and tall glasses of golden, bubbly champagne, and everyone was talking, eating, laughing, drinking, and having a good time. Mistletoe, tinsel, and soft white lights were strung up along the mantel, with potted poinsettias flanking the fireplace with its cheery, crackling flames. Still more greenery, lights, and poinsettias were clustered in the corners of the room, and the air smelled like pine sap mixed with a hint of woodsmoke. The pretty scene reminded me of one of my mom's snow globes. All it needed was some fake flakes and glitter swirling up into the air to make it complete.

Even though it was almost midnight, the party was still going strong, and my mom was right in the thick of things, moving from one group of guests to the next, smiling, laughing, and shaking everyone's hand. After that tense meeting in her office, Mom had come up to the family room to help Bria and me decorate our Christmas tree, although she'd brushed off all my questions about Hugh and Deirdre and what they wanted her to do. Instead, Mom had pretended like everything was fine, just like she was doing right now, by mingling with all her guests.

I was supposed to be in bed, but I couldn't sleep, so I'd slipped out here to watch the action. But that had been twenty minutes ago, and I was getting bored. So I moved away from the balcony and went over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the family room, the one that my sisters and I had decorated earlier today. Well, mostly decorated. Several snow globes and other ornaments were still strewn across the floor, waiting to be hung. But the tree was plenty decorated enough for me.

I lay down underneath the Christmas tree and scooted over to the far corner, lying on my back and peering up through the branches at all the ornaments, lights, and tinsel above. This was one of my favorite things to do every single year. Normally, I would do it on Christmas morning when we were all gathered around the tree and had finished opening our presents, but Annabella had made fun of me last year, saying that only a little kid would crawl behind the tree. So I'd just go ahead and do it now, when she wasn't around to tease me.

I didn't know how long I lay there, staring up at the lights and the soft glimmers of glass, but I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, the mansion was silent. The talking, the laughing, the carols. All the noise from the party had vanished. Everyone must have gone home while I was sleeping.

I rubbed the sand out of my eyes and sat up. At least, I started to, but then I remembered where I was and ducked back down at the last second. I just managed to avoid upending the Christmas tree and knocking the whole thing down. That would have been a
disaster
, especially with all my mom's snow globes on it. No doubt I would have broken every single one.

As I started to crawl out from behind the tree, the creak of the stairs made me stop. That was probably Mom, coming to turn off the holiday lights. So I stayed where I was, hoping that she would just walk down the hallway and not actually open our doors and look inside to make sure that we were in bed.

I hunkered down and peered through the branches, expecting to see her black stilettos. But instead, a pair of black boots appeared at the top of the stairs. I frowned. Why would Mom be wearing boots?

She wouldn't, I realized. For a second, I thought that it must be Annabella, coming home late after sneaking out to meet her friends, but then I noticed that the boots were far too large to belong to her. I froze, then slowly looked up through the branches, my mind finally putting the pieces together.

Someone was in our house.

The boots stepped forward, and a tall man emerged out of the shadows. He was dressed all in black, with black gloves and a black ski mask covering his head and face.

An intruder was in our house.

That horrible thought kept rattling around inside my brain, with questions popping up beside it, like holiday lights blazing to life one after another. What was this man doing here? Was this a . . .
robbery
?

Several houses in the neighborhood had been robbed in recent weeks, folks coming home from parties and other late nights out to find that someone had broken in while they were gone and had stolen all the presents from beneath their trees, just like the Grinch in that old holiday cartoon.

I held my breath, wondering what the man could possibly steal, since we hadn't put any of our presents out yet. Or maybe he was here for my mom's jewelry, some of the antique knickknacks in the house, or even the stacks of money piled in her office safe. He stepped forward and dropped his hand down to his side.

That's when I saw the gun.

My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat. Not here to steal—here to
kill
.

All around me, the stones of our mansion whispered, but the vain, happy trills of the partygoers' gemstones had been replaced by dark, harsh mutters. Whoever the gunman was, he was dangerous, and his evil intentions were brutal enough to have already left emotional vibrations in the stone.

The man walked over to the tree and stopped, as though he was admiring the decorations. I clapped my hands over my mouth to hold back the scream rising in my throat and shrank back against the wall, desperately wishing that I could melt into it and escape out the other side.

But all I could do was stay as still and quiet as a mouse, hoping that he wouldn't look down at the floor and spot me through the thick branches, silver tinsel, and twinkling lights. The scent of pine sap, which had been so pleasant before, now seemed like poison sliding down my throat, choking me from the inside out.

Finally, the man stepped away from the tree and left the family area behind. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, as if he was unsure where to go. Then he started forward again, and I realized that he was walking toward Annabella's and Bria's bedrooms.

The thought of the gunman hurting my sisters cut through some of my panic, and anger sparked in place of my fear. He wasn't going to hurt them. Not if I could help it. I chewed my lip. But what could I do against a guy with a gun? I didn't know, but I had to do
something
, even if it was only run away, find my mom, and warn her what was happening. Then again, she could be asleep too, and I could be the only one who realized that the intruder was in the house.

So it was up to me to stop him.

I waited until the gunman had moved deeper into the hallway, then slowly wiggled out from behind the branches. I crouched by the side of the tree and eased forward, looking into the hallway beyond. The
man slowed, as if counting the doors that lined the walls and trying to decide which one he wanted to enter.

I glanced over at the stairs, hoping that my mom would suddenly appear, come running up here, and blast him with her Ice magic, but she didn't. In fact, I didn't hear any movement anywhere in the house.

My mind churned and churned, trying to come up with a plan that would let me save everyone. I could use my Stone magic to harden my skin the way that my mom had been teaching me to. That would keep me safe from the gunman's bullets, but Annabella and Bria hadn't inherited our father's Stone magic so they couldn't protect themselves like I could.

But my Stone magic wouldn't let me actually hurt the man in return, so I looked around again, searching for some sort of weapon that I could use against him. Maybe if I could sneak up and hit him from behind, I could stop him long enough to scream, run off, and sound the alarm. After that, all I had to do was get my mom, and everything would be fine.

I was sure of it.

But the only things around me were the glass ornaments, silver tinsel, and snow globes we hadn't gotten around to putting on the tree. Not exactly great weapons. Still, I picked up the biggest, heaviest globe and crept forward a few more feet, ready to leap up, reach for my magic, start screaming, and storm down the hallway after the intruder.

But he didn't open any of the doors, and he moved past the bedrooms where Annabella and Bria were sleeping. Instead, he turned the corner at the far end of the hallway and vanished. More stairs creaked, and I realized that he was heading down to the ground floor.

I frowned. Why would he go back there? The only thing on that side of the house was my mom's office—

I sucked in a breath. He was here to kill my mom. I
knew
it, deep down in my bones, just like I knew that I had to stop him.

I got to my feet and hurried to the end of the hallway. I looked around the corner there, searching for the gunman. Sure enough, he was already downstairs, moving faster now, and stepping into the hallway that would take him to my mom's office. I ran down the stairs after him, my stockinged feet barely making a whisper on the floor.

The intruder was now right outside my mom's office, standing in the same spot where I'd been just a few hours ago, watching Mom talk to that vampire, Hugh, along with that Deirdre woman. I shivered, remembering the vampire's dead, black eyes. I wondered if Tucker was the masked gunman. He certainly seemed like the type who would sneak into a house and murder someone in the middle of the night.

The man reached into his pants pocket, drew out a silencer, and screwed it onto the end of his gun. While he was distracted, I tiptoed forward a few more steps and hunkered down behind a table set up against the wall.

When he finished with his silencer, the man stretched out his free hand and gently tried the office door. The knob turned easily, and he opened the door a crack and stopped, waiting to see if my mom had noticed anything. But she hadn't, and I could hear the steady, continued
clickety-clack-clack
of her typing as she worked on her computer.

The man drew in a breath as if to steady himself, then threw open the door and burst into the office. Fear and panic rose up in my throat, choking me, but I pushed the feelings aside, got to my feet, and took off in a dead sprint, knowing that I had to get to him before he pulled the trigger.

“What—what are you doing—” Mom sputtered in a shocked voice.

“Greetings from the Circle,” the man spat out, although I barely registered his words, much less had time to think about what they meant.

I careened to a stop in the doorway. In front of me, the man snapped up his weapon to fire. Mom pushed back from her desk and shot to her feet, sending her chair rolling across the floor, but she was going to be too slow to get out of the way of the bullets, much less call up her Ice magic to create a shield to protect herself.

That anger filled me again, stronger than before, and I let out a loud yell and charged forward.

The man was so surprised that he turned to one side, his weapon wavering, but I didn't slow down. I drew back my hand
and smashed the snow globe into the side of his head as hard as I could.

The globe shattered on impact, spraying fake snow, glitter, and water everywhere, and a sharp, jagged, curved piece of glass cut into my right hand, leaving a deep, ugly mark in the center of my palm. I yelped in pain, and the man stepped forward and slapped his pistol across my face. Pain exploded in my cheek, and I flew across the room, bounced off the wall, and slid to the floor.