Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge 01 - Spell Bound (27 page)

“
Stamató.
”

The vampyre’s eyes grew wide at the sound of the voice emanating from the shadows around us.

“But he refused,” it told the darkness.

A silhouette lifted off the wall and formed a giant pumpkin head similar to the one that had attacked Elliot and me at school. So there were two—a vampyre
and
a shadow weaver. Its hollow eyes regarded me before settling its gaze on the vampyre. “
Ton se ména férei
.”

The vampyre snarled at the command but eased his stranglehold around my throat. “Fine. I’ll bring him to you.”

The pumpkin head didn’t say another word. Its form flattened against the wall and merged with the other shadows.

“Today’s your lucky day,” it hissed.

“Yeah, well, it’s not yours.”

The vampyre spun around. Drake jammed a sharp wooden slat from the garden fence in the backyard into the vampyre’s chest.

Its scream pierced through the house, and it took one step toward Drake before falling on its knees. It gripped the wood protruding from its chest. Black blood poured from its wound and bubbled out of its mouth. It stared in disbelief at my boyfriend. It couldn’t believe that a human, not a warlock, had been the one to defeat it.

Its body burst into flame. When the fire had subsided, all that remained was a pile of ashes.

“You killed it?”

He nodded and knelt beside me. “It was either him or you.”

I struggled to rise, but Drake pushed me back down. He sat on the floor and gathered me into his arms. “How did you know what to do?”

“Duh. It’s a vampyre,” he said. “Everyone knows a stake to their heart will take them out.”

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” I said. Now that Drake had killed the vampyre, he’d officially made himself a part of this conflict and an enemy of the shadow weaver, who had obviously been the vampyre’s master.

What did it want? But more importantly, where the hell did the shadow weaver go?

“What was I supposed to do?” Drake’s question pulled me out of my thoughts. He ran his fingers through my hair and smiled at me. “Let you die? You’ve saved my life three times. This was the least I could do.”

Except now he was in more danger than before. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I love you.”

“I’m glad,” he said before pressing his lips to mine. “Because I don’t kill vampyres for just anyone. Only for the boy I love.”

As Drake held me tight, I surveyed the disaster. Pierce lay passed out with black gook all over him, and my father and Thad had fallen out of the black clouds that had disappeared when Drake killed the vampyre.

We were safe for now, but the shadows were everywhere.

I
SAT
behind Drake on the leather sectional, my arms wrapped around his waist as the Stonewalls and the Proctors, minus Mr. Proctor, who was no doubt still working the crime scene at Aunt Millie’s, made their way into our living room. They eyed the shattered coffee table, the melting ice, our tattered clothes, and our bruised and bloodied bodies.

“What happened here?” Mrs. Stonewall asked.

“A vampyre,” my father replied.

They tensed and surveyed the room, looking for the next attack.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s dead.”

They all visibly relaxed, but their gazes settled on Drake.

When he’d seen Miranda, Elliot, and Edith—other kids from our school—enter, his grip on my arms had relaxed a tiny bit, but now that everyone kept staring at us, the tension had returned. I ran my hand up and down his back in comfort.

He didn’t have anything to fear. I was here, and he got the message. He exhaled and leaned against me, propping his head on my shoulder.

“Who is this?” Mr. Stonewall asked. As was usual, his tone was flat. Wizards didn’t beat around the bush. They got straight to the point.

“Lawrence, this is Drake Carpenter,” my father answered with a reassuring smile at Drake. “He’s the one who killed the vampyre.”

They gaped, almost as if their actions were synchronized. If this hadn’t been such a serious situation, I’d have been laughing.

“How is he even involved in this?” It was Mrs. Stonewall’s turn to ask a question, in an even tone that mimicked her husband’s.

“His aunt Millie was—” My father stopped, searching for a gentler word than the one that dangled from his tongue.

“Killed,” Mrs. Stonewall answered.

My father sighed as the eyes of everyone once again settled upon Drake. “Yes, Rachel. That would be correct.”

Everyone regarded Drake with sad skepticism. The only ones with different expressions were the Proctor kids. The overly sympathetic Charlotte had distrust in her eyes, while Adam, who typically only scowled at Drake, nodded. He obviously no longer had problems with seeing the two of us together. Miranda’s usual resting bitch face had relaxed into one of sympathy and regret. What the hell was going on with that family?

Their mother Camille, however, remained true to her ways. She was always a mother first and a powerful witch second. “I’m so sorry, dear.” She crossed to where we sat and plopped down next to us. A comforting, maternal smile parted her lips as she rubbed Drake’s back. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through tonight.”

“It’s been awful, ma’am,” Drake replied.

“Where’s Charles?” my father asked.

“He’s on his way,” she said. “He was still at the station working the case.”

Drake pulled out of our embrace and scooted closer to Mrs. Proctor. “Wait a minute. Detective Proctor is your husband?”

When she nodded, he turned to me. “That detective is a warlock too?”

Pierce and Adam snorted in unison. They glared at each other before Mrs. Proctor answered. “No, honey. My husband is a witch. Just like my children and me.” She motioned to the Stonewalls, who stood behind the couch in an orderly line from Mr. Stonewall all the way down to the youngest pair of twins. “And the Stonewalls are wizards.”

“I’m sorry,” Drake said. “I didn’t mean to offend. I’m new to all this.”

“Well, I am deeply offended,” Mr. Stonewall said. “Why we are revealing ourselves to this human?”

“We didn’t,” my father said. “It was the vampyre. It attacked him and us.”

“So that means we spill generations of secrets to him?” Mrs. Stonewall asked. “That’s unacceptable. Just spell him and get this over with.”

Wait, what?

Drake glanced at me and then at everyone else. Even though Mrs. Proctor still smiled at him, she nodded in agreement with Mrs. Stonewall. “It’s the only way.”

“We’re not spelling him, and that’s final.” I stood and pulled Drake up after me. There was no way I was letting anyone use magic to alter Drake’s memories. Even the most powerful among us couldn’t control the consequences of such actions.

“That’s not your decision,” Mr. Stonewall said. “You’re not head of this family.”

“Neither are you,” my father replied.

As usual, the bitter rivalry among our families erupted.

The Stonewalls berated my father for delaying what they logically believed the Conclave would order anyway. Camille took a gentler but no less firm approach. She mentioned only the tragic history of our species the last time humans had knowledge of our existence. What we had to do was for the good of our race and our children.

I wasn’t going to listen to it anymore.

“That’s enough!” Mrs. Proctor and Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall glared at me. Their children stood in the background, glancing back and forth from me to their parents. “No one is spelling the boy I love. You got that?”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Drake asked.

“They want to erase your memories,” I told him. “Make you forget everything you’ve learned.”

He shook in anger. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You can’t make a decision like that for me. It’s my life. My memories. Don’t I have some say?”

“Ordinarily, yes,” Mrs. Stonewall answered. “But according to our laws, no. The only surefire way to protect our secret is to wipe your mind clean.”

What she wasn’t sharing was the potential loss of all Drake was and could be. To her, it was obviously a small price to pay to protect our species.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to let it happen. The only reason my family isn’t dead right now is because of him. If the vampyre had killed us, it’d have come after each and every one of you, and you know it. We’d all be dead.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Stonewall said. “Your thinking is illogical.”

“Bite me!”

Mrs. Proctor stood. She clasped her hands in front of her and offered us a tense smile. Though she appeared small and nonthreatening, her power could have brought this entire house down around our ears. “Mason, I understand that you have an emotional attachment to this boy, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is aware of our existence. That will not be allowed. We know this. Your family knows this. You know this. We can stand here and debate until the end of time, but the conclusion will remain the same. The Conclave will order us to spell him.”

Of course she was right. I’d known that from the moment I realized Drake wasn’t a shifter. And now that he’d killed the vampyre, taking away his memories might be a way to keep him safe.

“Mason?” Drake asked. He’d clearly seen the shift in my thinking.

I held his hands and forced him to look only at me. “They’re right,” I said. He took one step back and glared at me as if I was a stranger. “The Conclave won’t let you walk around with what you know, and now that you’ve killed the vampyre, well, you’re on the shadow weaver’s shit list. You aren’t safe.”

“I can take care of myself. You know that.”

I nodded and ran my fingers through his hair before hooking his chin with my thumb and forefinger. I loved him so much, and sometimes when you loved someone, you had to do what was best for them whether you liked it or not. “I do, but I don’t want you to live life looking over your shoulder. You deserve to be free from all this.”

Drake clutched at my shoulders, his lower lip trembling. “No, don’t let them do this,” he pleaded. “I won’t remember you. Or us.” He kissed my lips while he moved his hand from my shoulders to my face. He gently caressed me before locking eyes. “I don’t want to forget you.”

I didn’t want that either. We had a chance at creating something great together, but we’d never be given that opportunity. “I’ll never forget you, Drake,” I said before stepping out of his embrace. “You’ll live forever in my heart.”

“Mason!” he said. “This isn’t your decision.”

I turned to my father and brothers and nodded. Profound sadness cast their eyes downward. Their hearts were breaking for me.

“
Per singulos dies
…” Mrs. Proctor chanted the spell that would make him forget.

Drake held on to me, sobbing. Tears spilled down my cheeks as well. This was the first time I remembered crying since my mother’s death.

“…
Defluxerant
…”

“I love you, Mason,” he sobbed. “Even though I’m so pissed off at you right now.”

I swallowed hard, trying my damnedest to speak around the sobs lodged in my throat. “I know you are, but I’d rather have you angry with me than the alternative, because I love you too, Drake.” I stared deeply into the cornflower-blue eyes that had spelled me since I first looked into them. They were so beautiful and pure. I’d give anything to look into them for the rest of my life.

“…
Et quia memoriam nostri omnes evanescent
…”

His eyes grew heavy, and he had trouble keeping them open. “What’s happenin’? I feel funny.”

Through the tears and snot that streaked my face, and despite the heart that broke in my chest, I smiled. He might not remember me when he woke up, but I didn’t want him to go to sleep without seeing me grin at him one more time. “Nothing bad, I promise. When you wake up, all will be good.”

“…
Sic erit et generationi.
”

When Mrs. Proctor finished the spell, I waited for Drake to go limp and pass out. But he didn’t. His eyes snapped open, and he looked around at everyone, who stared at him with open mouths.

“What happened?” he asked.

“How is this possible?” Mrs. Proctor asked. She scanned the shocked faces around her.

“I don’t know,” my father answered. “This has never happened before.”

“What’s never happened before?” Drake asked.

I couldn’t stop the smile that cracked across my face. “It didn’t work,” I told him. “The spell didn’t work.”

“Let me try it,” Mr. Stonewall said. “We all should.”

“No,” I protested. I stood in front of Drake, a scowl on my lips. They’d tried to make him forget, but for some reason, his memories refused to go. I had no clue why, but I wasn’t about to let them continue to use their magic on him. There was no telling what repeated failed spells could do to a human. “You could kill him, and you know it. And killing a human who is not actively trying to harm us is another law we’re honor bound not to break.”

That shut them all up. That rule was as sacred as keeping our existence a secret and not casting the
immortalitus
spell.

“He’s right,” my father said. He stepped between us and the other covens, and my brothers joined him. “Drake Carpenter has proven himself a friend to our species. We have followed the rules, and for whatever reason, his memory remains. I therefore place him under the protection of the Blackmoor coven.”

What had my father just done? That statement basically made Drake an honorary member of our family. Any move made against him would be considered an attack against our coven.

Everyone immediately understood. If they persisted, they’d ignite a war among our covens that would not be in the best interest of our species.

“Fine,” Mr. Stonewall said. Even though he was obviously pissed, his voice never rose. “But you have also officially made him your problem. If anything bad happens because of this, it will be your coven that pays the price.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Dad responded. “And I embrace that as openly as I do my sons.”