Beguiled

by Darynda Jones

  “With tea?” I asked.

  “My own concoction. One drop on your tongue and you’ll be a drooling vegetable in no time. As long as it doesn’t enter your bloodstream. Then we’ll have to see to that long-lost sister.” He took the dagger out of the liquid. “The tiniest slit with this and she’ll be six feet under in no time. You guys just keep coming out of the woodwork.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why do you want Percy so bad? You have two houses on this block already.” When they didn’t answer, I added, “Just tell me. What can it hurt? I’m going to be a drooling vegetable anyway.”

  “She’s right,” Parris said. “Anything we tell her would only make her sound more insane.”

  “True.”

  Parris turned to me, excited about their plan. “If you must know, we have several houses in the area. We just rent the others out. But Percy is the one we really want. He’s at the epicenter.”

  “Of?”

  “The pentagram.”

  “What are you…” The world spun again, but it hit me. “The caves. The caves form a pentagram.” I’d seen it on Roane’s map, but we were so focused on pirate booty, we didn’t look closely enough. In my defense, I did tell him I’d wanted to study that map further.

  Parris clapped. “Exactly. It’s over a mile wide, and Percy is dead center. He’s a conduit. A cradle of mystical energy. He is literally humming with power. The longer someone with blood-born magics lives in it, the more powerful they grow.” She hugged herself. “He’ll take Harris’s magics to the next level. But seriously, how long does it take to make tea?”

  He glared at her.

  If I could just get my hands free. Hard as I tried, I could not do a spell. The world tipped with each attempt, and whatever he’d wrapped around my hands was preventing me from drawing one on the air.

  Just as I worked the fingers of my left hand out of the cloth, I caught a glimpse of something in the shadows. Maybe it was the way the light moved in this strange new reality. It glinted off two round objects like coins hovering in the air, and I realized Roane was easing down the stairs to the basement, taking one step, stopping, then taking another, hunkered in pure stealth mode.

  “Don’t you dare,” I whispered to him, but he either didn’t hear me—impossible—or didn’t care—most likely. I had no idea what these two were capable of. Besides murder.

  The magics were getting to him, too. He shook his head, as though trying to clear it, and took another step.

  I tore my gaze off him so I wouldn’t reveal his presence, but it was too late. Parris had followed my line of sight and spotted him. “You are the worst warlock ever. How could you not know we’d been infiltrated?”

  A low rumble rolled out of Roane’s chest.

  “Get out,” I whispered to him. “Harris is more powerful than I could’ve imagined. Get out.”

  He snarled at me, then snapped at Parris as she moved to stand beside her husband. “Do something,” she said, clutching at his sleeve, and I realized for the first time he wore a robe of some kind. Something ceremonial.

  “Are you wearing a dress?” I asked him. Anything to get his attention off Roane. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a man wearing a dress.”

  “Shut up!”

  Roane whimpered and fell against the wall, shaking his head again. He was losing his balance as well. His hold on time.

  “Roane, go. Please.”

  I realized, probably too late, that I had another ally. I called to Olly, but I couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see through his eyes. So I tried harder. Concentrated through the fog. “Bedoliel,” I whispered. His vision emerged at last. He was already hurrying in my direction. Not to help me, but because he was chasing a pack of dogs that had tried to get the better of him. And from what I could tell by the street signs around him, the little shit was in Boston. What the hell?

  Come here, I said to him.

  He changed directions and darted toward me at the speed of light.

  Roane made it down the stairs, his growl a snarling, vicious thing, and positioned himself between me and the crazies. But he kept losing his balance, his massive body swaying to the side, so he stayed in a hunkered position, ready to leap if he needed to.

  “Do something,” Parris said, her voice no more than a hiss.

  So he did. He shoved his wife toward Roane, sacrificing her for the greater good. Well, his greater good. While Roane’s attention was on the woman flailing on top of him and screaming like a banshee, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d learned that one in her acting class as well. It gave Harris the precious seconds he needed to grab the knife and corner the table.

  Roane’s teeth were locked onto Parris’s calf when Harris drove the knife between his ribs. I cried out, but the injury seemed to barely register. Roane turned and attacked so fast, his movements were little more than a blur. He clamped onto Harris’s throat and had him on the ground in less than two seconds, the snarling and growling enough to weaken even the staunchest of men.

  Harris tried to scream as he fought, but the pressure on his throat prevented it. In a matter of seconds, the only sound coming from him was a sickening gurgle.

  I was so focused on the attack, I missed the fact that Parris had found a shovel. She walked up and drove it down in one, sharp thrust between Roane’s shoulder blades.

  I watched in shock as the rusty metal sank into Roane’s fur. As thick crimson blood seeped out along the edges. Then his cry registered. A desperate, heart-wrenching thing. Half whimper and half howl.

  Bile crept up the back of my throat, and the edges of my vision darkened. “Roane.” I tried to get to him, but the fucking world would not stop spinning long enough.

  He sank to the ground with a soft cry.

  Parris pulled out the shovel. After tossing it aside, she held out a hand to her husband.

  Anger exploded within me, then I remembered what Roane had told me. I protect you. You protect me. I could protect him. Some of my power would be transferred when I claimed him as my sentry. When I enslaved him to me, yes, but still the lesser of two evils.

  He may grow to resent me, but his breaths were already shallow. I had no time to lose. “I claim you,” I said, and he turned his head toward me. “Roane Atticus Wildes, I claim you.”

  I felt a small fraction of my power leach out. Watched it waft over him like gold dust on the air. But would it be enough? Was I too late?

  He went limp, and my heart stopped beating as I waited for a breath. For a flick of his ear. For any sign of life.

  “What was that?” Parris asked, struggling to get her husband to his feet. She had a nasty bite on her leg. The imprints where Roane’s massive teeth had been were now filled with blood that oozed down her leg and into her patent leather Mary Janes.

  But Harris’s entire torso was covered in blood. How was he even alive? He found a towel and held it to his throat with one hand, choking and coughing. “What?” he asked. Determined to finish what he started, he stumbled to the table and began pouring the tea into a plastic bottle. They were going to force it down my throat.

  “That gold. Just then.” She pointed, unconcerned with the fact that her husband was bleeding to death. Maybe as a warlock, his magics were keeping him alive.

  Harris released an impatient sigh then coughed again, the sound wheezing and wet. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Hand me the lid, but don’t get any of this on you. It can work even through the skin, and that’s all I need. More crazy from the cheap seats.” The towel was soaked through now and I could hardly believe he was still standing.

  Roane used his front paws to inch toward me. I watched through thick tears as he dragged his back legs, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

  “Roane, baby, stop.” I could barely speak past the lump in my throat. “It’s okay.”

  He looked up at me, his olive irises feverishly bright. In a last herculean effort, he lunged toward me and sank his teeth into my thigh.

  I gasped as his jaws
clamped down. When his teeth broke the skin, pain shuttered through me. And then I felt it. His essence. His lifeforce. The transfer of power as he staked his claim, marking me as his own.

  “The crazy has already started,” Parris said, clapping her hands again. “Good to know that stuff works.”

  Roane’s lifeforce washed over me like a silk veil. Our powers combined, the sensation both heady and sobering, seconds before he collapsed.

  I lay my head back, riding out the rush, then looked at my captors through new eyes. “I have to be honest with you.”

  They both stopped what they were doing and gave me their full attention.

  “I’m not what you think I am.” I’d freed the fingers on my right hand as well and did a simple spell to release the binds on my hands. They fell to the ground along with the cloth covering them, but neither of my captors noticed.

  I was worried Parris would see the light from the spell, especially in the dark room, but she just stared at me. Waiting. They both did. I brought my hands around, drew another spell in plain sight, and released the rest of my bindings. My only thought was to finish this and get Roane to safety.

  “How… how did you do that?” Harris asked, coughing up a spittle of blood.

  Parris stepped away from him, inching toward the stairs.

  The world was still thick and lopsided, so I found a stabilizing spell. Having no idea if it would work, I drew it on the air.

  Parris gasped as it burst to life and the magics Harris had used to keep me off balance dissipated.

  He backed away, wary of me. “What are you?”

  “I’m a charmling.

  “I… I don’t know what that is.”

  That threw me. I figured as a warlock, surely he would know what a charmling was.

  “That’s too bad.” I drew the spell that would strip him of his magics and pushed it onto him. Nothing happened. I drew it again. And again. Still nothing.

  He didn’t react at all. It was almost as if he couldn’t see the spells, but any being with magics could see them. Then I realized the problem. He had no magics. None whatsoever. There was simply nothing to strip away.

  I eyed him, suspicion narrowing my lids, until a loud thud echoed in the room. He fell forward, narrowly missing the table, and landed face-first on the cement floor.

  My gaze traveled to the brunette bent over him, holding the shovel.

  Her chest heaving, she watched him a moment to make sure he didn’t move, then straightened and turned toward me. “That man was an idiot.”

  “You… you killed him.”

  “Duh. He was an idiot.”

  “He didn’t have any magics.”

  She frowned at me. “How do you know that?”

  “I told you, I’m a charmling.”

  “What the hell is a charmling?”

  “If he didn’t have any magics—”

  “I know, right? Then who’s the warlock?” She planted the shovel on the ground beside her, hitched an arm over the handle, and said proudly, “You’re looking at her.”

  That was unexpected. “You’re a warlock?”

  “I am. Well, I’m studying to be one. None of that watered-down witch bullshit for me. All of that nature crap. Harmony and enlightenment and good deeds. My mother was a witch. Barely had enough magics to grow a watermelon, but she kept at it. Year after year. Making predictions that never came true. Creating concoctions that never worked quite right.” Parris lowered her head and gazed at me from underneath her lashes. “I want more.”

  “I can see that.” Now that I had my balance again, I eased down to Roane. He lay in a pool of blood. “Parris, I have to get him to a hospital.”

  “You mean a vet?” she asked with a snort. “What do you think is going to happen here? Who do you think set all this up? I’d been planning to get Percy from Ruthie for years, and then you show up out of the blue.”

  “You killed my grandmother.”

  “Of course I did.”

  My insides seethed, the acids in my stomach churning.

  “My husband had the wherewithal of a banana. He could barely tie his own shoelaces, but he was hung like a horse. And he made the perfect decoy. Who would suspect little ol’ me of being a warlock?”

  “But he thought he was.”

  “He did.” She tapped her temple to prove how smart she was. “It’s all in memory manipulation. That guy was so gullible.”

  I couldn’t help but notice how she was easing closer and closer to the table.

  “Why the charade?”

  “For moments like this. If anything were to happen, I could claim he was batshit. He threatened me. He forced me to do it. Blah blah blah.” She looked me up and down. “But you knew he didn’t have any magics. How?”

  “I told you, I’m a charmling.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what that is.”

  “Then you really should have done your homework, tried to learn more about the profession you’re trying to infiltrate before attempting a coup like this.”

  “Are you going to explain it to me or not? And what are you doing on the air? What is that light?”

  “Those are my spells. Charmling spells. We’re very powerful.”

  “More powerful than a warlock?” she asked, her voice filled with doubt.

  “Much.” And I proved it when she went for the tea.

  She scooped up the bottle and flung the tea at me. Thank the Goddess magics are lightning fast. They stopped it. Suspended it in midair.

  I’d drawn a spell before I even thought about it, my movements automatic.

  Parris dropped the bottle and stumbled back.

  I studied the droplets as they floated in midair, but another whimper from Roane brought the direness of the situation hurtling back to me. I pushed the liquid-filled spell toward her. It splashed on her face and neck and arms. She screamed like I’d burned her with acid. Then again, maybe I had. Had Harris lied to me? Was he really making an acid of some sort?

  “Get it off!” she screamed, swiping at the wetness. She whirled this way and that like she was on fire. “Get if off me! Get it off me!”

  Mercury was like that. Depending on the strength, even a drop on the skin could kill a person. But the liquid in the bottle hadn’t been silver, so I hardly saw the point to her theatrics.

  I went to grab a towel off the table, but Parris was twirling so much, she lost her balance. She collided with a metal cabinet and then tried to run up the stairs. At least, I thought that was her goal. She missed them and ran face-first into a wall.

  “Parris, holy crap, stop.” I held up my hands in surrender and tried to give her the towel.

  Her skin almost glowed, her face bright red and puffy. What the hell had been in that pan?

  At that point, I was just trying to protect Roane. To keep her from trampling the poor guy. “Parris, you’re going to kill yourself. Stop.”

  “Get it off me!” she cried again. She bounced off yet another wall, the scene horrific yet strangely comical, then ran for the stairs again. Only she ran under them instead and hit her head—hard—on the underside. Her feet went out from under her, and she landed unconscious on her back.

  I eased up to her, afraid to touch her. Her blistered skin was peeling. “What the hell were you going to give me?”

  Realizing she was out cold, I knelt down to Roane, the knees of my sweats absorbing his blood. “Okay, mister,” I said, running my hand down his body, “you’re going to have to get up now. We have things to do.”

  The pool of blood he lay in was still growing. I looked up as I heard something padding down the stairs. Olly burst onto the scene and looked around, taking in what looked like the scene from a horror movie. He was so black, he absorbed all the light around him, so when I spoke to him, it was hard to tell if he was actually looking at me.

  “Olly, go get Annette.”

  He obeyed instantly, tearing back up the stairs as I stood and searched around for my phone. I found it on the table. They’d t
urned it off, presumably so the police couldn’t track it if they caught wind of my… abduction? Did this count as an abduction?

  I turned it on and scrolled through my contacts. “Chief?” I said when a groggy man answered.

  “Defiance? Where are you?”

  “I don’t know, really. I think I’m in Parris’s basement.”

  “Parris? Parris Hampton?”

  “Yes, can you please come over?”

  I heard rustling like he was scrambling out of bed. “I’m next door, hon. I’ll be right over. Is Parris okay?”

  “Mentally or physically?”

  He stopped and asked, “Either.”

  “Oh, well, neither one is doing great right now. And I think Harris is dead.”

  “Do I dare ask?”

  “I didn’t kill him. You know, if that helps.”

  Twenty-Two

  If every day is a gift,

  then today was socks.

  —Meme

  “I can’t heal him,” I said, a waterfall cascading down my face.

  Gigi put a hand on my shoulder as I leaned over Roane. I didn’t dare touch him. He lay unconscious, the thick red fur over his rib cage hardly moving.

  “I claimed him. It was supposed to protect him, but it didn’t, and now I can’t heal him.”

  “That’s not what you do, sweetheart,” Gigi said.

  Olly had roused Annette, and she followed them over. She was barefoot and wearing a robe over her usual boxer shorts and tee. I was indeed in Parris’s basement, a room that seemed much less cavernous with the lights on, and Annette stood shivering.

  “You’re wrong. I healed Mrs. Touma.” I’d helped a woman with Alzheimer’s a few months ago when I’d first reclaimed my powers. I’d saved her from a fall that would’ve killed her. In the process, her Alzheimer’s disappeared.

  “No, sweetheart. I think you just took away her pain. And to do that, maybe her synapses were stitched back together. Made whole again. Like a few nights ago, when you took Roane’s pain away.”

  The ghost of Puritans past had attacked me for being a witch. He’d knocked into me like a wrecking ball, crushing every bone in my chest and then some. I’d drawn a spell, not realizing what it would do. It transferred my injuries onto Roane. Every broken bone. Every torn ligament. I was horrified.