Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge 01 - Spell Bound (18 page)

Even though I didn’t want to leave Drake, I sprinted toward Mr. Matula. His brown eyes widened in terror. He clasped my arm and tried to talk, but all he managed to bring up was a gurgle of blood. Like the woman on the football field and the construction worker, he had his neck ripped open. But unlike them, he had blood freely spilling from the wound.

“I’m here, Mr. Matula,” I said, tearing my shirt off and pressing it firmly to his wound. “We’ll get you help.”

His eyes locked onto mine before rolling back in his head.

“Mr. Matula! Don’t give up on me.”

I hadn’t mastered healing spells, but I couldn’t just let him die. I had to do something. “
Sana
,” I whispered as I hovered my hands over the torn flesh. Golden light emanated from my palms as his skin stitched itself back together. As the gash slowly closed, something crashed into me from behind.

“No!” it railed before an arm wrapped around my neck. It lifted me in the air and away from Mr. Matula. Breaking contact with him before the spell was complete caused his wound to reopen and the blood to pour out of him once again.

Mr. Matula would die if I didn’t get free, and then it would most likely go back for Drake. I couldn’t allow that, but the viselike grip with which it held me grew as tight as a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of its prey. I wasn’t some helpless animal. I was a warlock, and I had to get out of this.

As I gasped for breath, I clawed at its ashen flesh, but no matter how hard I dug my nails into its skin, I couldn’t break the surface. Its flesh proved just as strong as the steely muscles that held me in their grip. I kicked against its legs and thrashed about like a fish flopping on a pier, but nothing worked.

If I could only speak, I’d be able to recite a spell that might give me the leverage I needed. But my foe knew that.

“I won’t let you ruin the plan,” it whispered.

How could killing the kindhearted Mr. Matula be a part of any plan? And why did its voice sound different than just a few hours ago in the bathroom?

I had to catch a glimpse of it, but I couldn’t turn my head. Its hot breath plumed across the back of my neck, and every time it exhaled, the stench of pancakes and bleach filled my lungs.

What the hell did it pour over its short stacks, Clorox?

It inhaled deeply at my neck. “I can smell it on you. You were close to it. In the same room with it.” It took another big whiff. “But that was yesterday, not today.”

What the fuck was it talking about?

“Mason!” Pierce screamed from the wooded area around us. My family had arrived, and this fucker was going to have its ass handed to it.

It tensed against me. It apparently feared the combined might of the Blackmoor warlocks, as it should.

“Now’s not the time for us to meet,” it muttered before its tongue darted along the edges of my ear. I winced, but I couldn’t do much more. I struggled for oxygen, and the world swam around me. In a few moments, I was going to black out. “But soon I’ll thank you for leading me to what I seek. I promise.”

It tightened its hold one final time before lightning arced through the air around us. Pierce was almost here. His powers always seemed to precede his arrival whenever he was truly pumped up.

In response, my unseen foe shoved me face-first into the ground and let go. I immediately sat up and gasped, drawing in oxygen by the lungsful. I wheezed and hacked as the life-giving air once again returned to my body just as Pierce and then Thad and my father burst through the thicket.

“Where is it?” Pierce asked. Lightning sizzled from his clenched fist and arced through the air around him, searching for a foe to fry.

I attempted an answer, but my itchy, raw throat couldn’t form words, only rasping noises.

“Are you okay?” my father asked. I nodded as the coughing subsided.

“Where did it go?” Thad asked. He placed his arms on my shoulders and gently rubbed them. Who was this man who seemed to really care about my well-being? Was this a new thing, or had I always been blind to it?

I pointed toward where it had disappeared, and my father and Pierce disappeared after it. Thad stayed behind to help me.

“I’m fine,” I finally managed before nodding to the two forms in the clearing. “Help Dad and Pierce. I’ll see to Drake and Mr. Matula.”

Thad inspected the fiftysomething, balding man with gray whiskers on his chin and cheeks. “I’m afraid it’s too late for him,” Thad said. “He’s gone.”

No. It couldn’t be true.

But it was hard to deny the truth. His blood had turned the green grass red, and his skin had grown pale. Whatever purpose that thing had in murdering Mr. Matula, it had succeeded.

“Fuck!” I cursed before heading over to Drake. I sat on the ground and pulled him to me. If anything attacked again, I would be ready.

My father and Pierce emerged from the bushes. I glanced at them, hoping they’d caught the motherfucker so we could make it pay. But their hands were empty, and a fire burned in their eyes.

“He got away,” Pierce mumbled before discharging lightning straight into the ground. A huge thunderclap exploded into the night.

“Did you see it?” my father asked.

I shook my head at the question but remained focused on Drake. A huge knot had formed at the base of his skull. It made me angry. It made me want to rip that bastard in two, but when I glanced over at Mr. Matula’s dead body, the burning need for answers slowly calmed my boiling blood. What had that thing been looking for, and what purpose could there possibly be in killing a janitor?

It was time for answers.

I
PACED
in the waiting room of County Memorial Hospital. Being here brought up unpleasant memories of my mother, sick and emaciated from the cancer that had eaten her away from the inside. I’d done my best to avoid this place ever since, but here I was, along with the rest of my family, waiting for news on Drake and for Charles Proctor to come up from the morgue. But right now, all I really wanted was to be by Drake’s side.

Along with being the high priest of the white-witch coven and father to the insufferable Miranda, Mr. Proctor also served as a detective for the Havenbridge PD. Having him on the force came in handy at times like this. He could make evidence that might reveal the existence of our species disappear without affecting the case.

“We’ll hear something soon,” my father said. He rested a hand on my shoulder to offer comfort, but it was my dad who needed reassurance. Painful memories welled in his blue eyes as well. Being here affected all of us, even Thad. He had propped himself in the far corner and was chewing on his fingernails. He’d only done that as a kid.

“Not soon enough,” I mumbled, adjusting the paper-thin hospital shirt one of the nurses had given me. The police had collected my shirt, which I’d used on Mr. Matula’s wound, as evidence.

The hospital doors swung open, and Charles Proctor entered the room. He had short silvery hair and dark green eyes that told the room he was definitely the man in charge. His long strides quickly brought him to us. He was obviously ready to get down to business.

“This makes number three,” he said, taking out his pad and pen. “And this needs to be the last.”

“I agree,” my father said.

When he glimpsed at me, Detective Proctor’s legendary compassion became evident. His stare reflected sadness, both for the loss of Mr. Matula and for the fact that I’d had to witness death once again. “Tell me everything that happened out there.”

And I did. There was no reason to leave anything out. As I spoke, he scribbled in his pad, and my brothers gathered around us. He stopped every few minutes to ask follow-up questions, but when we were done, he sighed and motioned for all of us to sit down. “So you think it’s a shadow weaver?”

“Yes,” Thad said. “Everything Mason experienced seems to indicate that’s what we are dealing with.”

Detective Proctor shook his head and exhaled. “There hasn’t been a shadow weaver in so long, I figured they had become extinct, a byproduct of Bartram Kane’s foolishness. But if another warlock has tapped into the power of darkness and become as corrupt as he was, we could be heading toward some pretty rough times.”

That was an understatement. Bartram Kane had almost destroyed the humans and us by casting the immortality spell. That dark time in our history had become the stuff of legends and popular fodder for fantastical stories that most didn’t know were based in reality.

“But why kill Mr. Matula?” I asked. “Or any of the others? What plan was it referring to?”

“And what is it searching for? Those are the million-dollar questions,” Detective Proctor said. “What is the motive here? What links these three deaths?”

“Isn’t that your job, Detective?” my father asked. He and Charles Proctor got along about as well as a lion and a hyena.

“It is,” he answered with a nod. “And I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“In the meantime,” I interrupted. We didn’t have time for a verbal sparring match. “How do we stop him?” The only image that filled my mind was of Drake being pulled away from me by those hands. I’d never felt so powerless in my life, and it was something I didn’t want to experience ever again.

“It took the combined magic of the Conclave to stop Bartram,” my father finally replied.

“Then they need to get their asses here.” Pierce scowled. Being in the hospital had set his nerves on edge. “What the hell are they waiting for?”

“Confirmation,” my father revealed.

“They’re just going to sit on their asses until we find indisputable proof of what we are dealing with?” I asked. “People are being attacked and killed here!”

My father was clearly concerned too. He didn’t like their decision any more than I did. So why were they taking the wait-and-see approach?

“This doesn’t make sense.” My comment drew both Mr. Proctor’s and my father’s disapproval. Even though they didn’t like each other, neither of them took kindly to the Conclave being so openly criticized. Doing that only led to trouble. “And before you tell me to shut up and do my job, at least hear me out. The fact that they aren’t willing to step in right now and deal with this tells me something else is going on. We aren’t getting the full story. They’re keeping something from us, and I don’t like it.”

Thad nodded. “I have to agree.”

If my brother had had a feather, he could have knocked me over with it. The amazement on everyone else’s faces clearly revealed they were as shocked as I was. “You do?”

“Yes,” Thad said with a nod. “The Conclave is not acting as they normally do. Where before they took action, now they wait. Why? It’s almost as if they are afraid.”

“Yes,” I said. “I could sense it at the Mabon celebration.”

“That’s absurd,” Detective Proctor said. He crossed his arms over his muscled chest and grunted. “What could make the most powerful among us feel fear?”

“That’s precisely what we need to find out,” I said. “They sure as hell aren’t going to tell us, and I’ll be damned if I let Drake be exposed to danger again.”

“Mason?”

I whipped around to see Aunt Millie standing in the middle of the emergency room. She wrung her hands, and tears coursed down her cheeks. I ran to her and held her close.

“Thank you, dear,” she said with a sniffle. “He’s awake now if you’d like to see him.”

That was the biggest understatement of the year. I nodded, and she led me through the hospital doors and down the corridor toward the boy I’d been waiting all day to see.

W
HEN
I
entered the curtained area where Drake lay on the hospital bed, I couldn’t help but smile. The sight of his perfect blue eyes staring at me set my heart fluttering, and I had to stop myself from crawling on the bed with him.

“It’s about time you woke up,” I said. “You’ll do just about anything to get attention, won’t you?”

His pink lips parted into a grin. “This from the guy wearin’ a see-through hospital shirt. Did you lose yours again?”

I laughed and took his hand in mine. Even though our words were playful, we squeezed each other’s hand tight. More than anything else, physical contact was what we needed.

“Thank you, Mason,” Aunt Millie said from behind me. She placed her hands on my right shoulder and kissed my cheek. “You saved my Drake. Again.”

I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her to me. She needed to be consoled as much as we did. “I’d say ‘anytime,’ but I thought Drake and I had agreed we weren’t going to make this a habit.”

“And that’s your fault,” he said. “Not mine.”

I glowered at him. “How do you figure that?”

“Well, you were supposed to drop by after school. With food if I remember correctly.”

“I got sidetracked.”

Drake raised one eyebrow at me. “By who? Laura McBride?”

“Oh, stop the teasing,” Aunt Millie told Drake. She stepped out of my embrace and walked to the other side of the hospital bed. She took her nephew’s other hand in hers. “I’m glad Mason didn’t come by. If he had, he might not have been in the woods to save you.”

“Listen to your aunt Millie.” I tapped my finger on the tip of his nose. “She’s one smart cookie.”

“And just what were you doin’ in the woods anyway?” he asked.

“I heard a scream.” I couldn’t very well tell him I was following my magic, but what I did share was only a partial lie. “And I’m glad I did. I don’t want to even think about the alternative.”

“Me either,” Aunt Millie said with a nod. She shivered at the thought.

“Are you doin’ okay?” Drake asked. “All this excitement can’t be good for you right now.”

I’d forgotten all about her irregular heartbeat from this morning. “If you’re not, I’ll go get a doctor.”

She waved away our concerns. “My ticker might be old, and it might stumble every now and then, but I’ll be just fine.” She glanced between Drake and me. “But right now, I could use a cup of coffee, and you boys could use some time alone together. I’ll be back in a bit,” she said before parting the curtain and closing it behind her.