Chapter Thirty-Two
My eyelids feel glued together. Try as I might to open them, they won’t separate. I need to rub the sleep away.
Ropes cutting into my wrists restrict the movements of my hands. With an almighty effort, I wrench my eyes open, only to close them immediately against the harsh glare of a bonfire several feet in front of me. Now that I’ve seen it, I can’t believe I couldn’t feel the heat on my skin. Warm air caresses my face, my neck, presses against the fabric of my sweater and pants.
I passed out. No, I’ve passed out before, and this was different. Instead of coming from within me, this was done to me. A spell.
Seth.
I open my eyes again. The fire is at least five feet wide at its base, with flames leaping up nearly twice that into the black night sky. I’m lying on my side on the cool night grass, arms and legs bound.
I scan the area for others—the psychics, Seth—but I see no one. I struggle to right myself, jamming my hand and elbow into the cold grass. My head pounds against my skull. Whatever Seth did to knock me unconscious, it was a doozy. And where could he be now? Why knock me out, bring me here, light a fire, and leave? The fire, surrounded in a circle of large white rocks, doesn’t seem to be set to spread to the nearby woods.
Woods. I squint into the darkness on all sides. Trees are visible to my right and beyond the firelight, but I can’t see what’s to my left. I strain my ears. Am I by the river? If so, I can follow it to town. Of course, I can’t do it tied up. The rope around my ankles is intricately tied—twisted and looped back around itself. I can’t even locate the ends. My heart thuds in my chest.
I take in a breath. I’m ignoring the obvious solution—magic. It can’t be much different than lighting a candle. With my mind focused on what I want to happen—the knots to unravel—I try to call up the energy inside me. But nothing happens. I close my eyes, searching for the surge of magic.
A chuckle sounds behind me and I twist. Seth emerges from the darkness, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Try all you like. You’ll not be able to access your magic.”
I pull against the ropes, but that only makes them dig into my flesh. He’s right. The spark within me is there, but muted, like it’s behind translucent glass. I can’t connect with it. “What are you doing to me?”
He shrugs as he positions himself between the fire and me. “A simple channeling spell.” He points at a ring on his pinky finger and my stomach clenches. It’s my ring. “Since your friend died while you attempted the spell earlier, I was fairly certain you’d be reluctant to assist me in finishing the work. I knew I would have to take matters into my own hands. I didn’t want it to come to this, but it has. I need the circle separated from the crystal. They have no right to use the energy trapped within it. It was never meant for them.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. His voice doesn’t even sound like the man I’ve grown to know—it’s rougher, colder. “And what? You think it’s meant for you?”
“Meant for me? In a way, yes, but not the way you think. The magic inside that crystal belongs to me. I was separated from it the night you and Crystal returned from your foray into the past. Yes, I know about that.” A smile curls the edges of his mouth. “It was, after all, my idea.”
His words clang and clash in my mind. “What? You didn’t even come to town until after—”
“On the contrary—I’ve been in this town for more years than I care to count. Suffice it to say, I was here before your parents and their parents and their parents before them.”
I stare at him. There’s no way he’s telling the truth. How can he be that old? He’s barely older than I am. But another thought tugs at my consciousness. I had visions of him before he ever showed up in my life—visions Jodi brushed off as simple foreshadowing of his arrival, that Crystal believed meant they were destined for each other. But what if they were more than that? I attributed my visions to being around Crystal, but that’s not entirely accurate. The visions occurred when I was around the pendant she wore—a shard from the quartz the circle anchored itself to. What if my visions had nothing to do with Crystal at all, but with the pendant? And the visions I’ve had since coming to this reality—the ones I thought meant there was something wrong with the crystal? Stones can channel energy, yes, but they can also store it. There’s no reason a stone would be inherently evil—it would have to be imbued with something dark.
Or someone.
“I never did thank you. Although, truly, I’m not thankful to be in such a pitiable state, it is preferable to what I experienced in your reality. For a brief moment when you rescued the stone from poor Crystal Taylor’s fire, I reconnected with the full extent of my abilities. And while it would have been preferable for Crystal Jamison to release me from the stone with my abilities intact, I’m not entirely sure she possesses the power to have completed the spell, and I’m unsure what would have become of me had she died midway through. So, in a way, I suppose I do owe you a debt of gratitude for intervening. When you redirected the crystal’s magic—my magic—you freed me from my prison.” He holds his arms out, wiggling his fingers. “It is wonderful to have corporeal form again. Still, it is unacceptable to be cut off from my power. Your circle anchoring itself is a complication that needs to be sorted out.”
“That’s been your plan all along, hasn’t it? To kill them—like you’ve been killing other people in town?” I bite the inside of my cheeks, watching his face, wanting to be wrong. But the flicker in his eye is all the confirmation I need. “Why? Why would you kill them? Millie has young kids—”
“I’m simply putting things right—punishing the children of those who betrayed me all those years ago. Alec Crawford? He’s from the line of Joseph Hill, who was instrumental in casting the spell that entrapped me. The delightful Millie? Her ancestors, the Yates family, provided the crystal.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing—he’s admitting to murder, right here in front of me. There’s only one reason he’d be doing that: He doesn’t expect I’ll ever be able to tell anyone. I’ve figured him out, and once he’s finished his spell, I’ll outlive my usefulness. I have to get out of here, but I have no idea how. He’s blocked me from my magic, and I can’t see or feel enough to undo the ropes without it.
“And your friend Felix.” He sneers at the name. “Tucker Wolfe was the one who betrayed me to the town elders to begin with. Felix is the last of his line to possess abilities. That he still draws breath is a thorn in my side.”
Felix. The psychics. That’s it. Seth is tapping into my magic, but maybe he’s not touching my psychic side. I’ve moved things with my mind before—maybe I can move the ropes now. It might be a long shot, but if I can catch Seth off guard, it might be my only hope of getting out of here—and of saving my friends.
I need to distract him. “If you want Felix dead so badly, why haven’t you killed him yet?” Hope flashes. Maybe there’s something about Felix that Seth didn’t account for. “After we stopped the spell, why didn’t you just try something else?”
He snorts. “My own abilities are pitifully limited, so I needed help. Crystal Taylor and I have a long history—after all, she possessed my stone back when she ran her own circle. When I had my form again, it was a simple matter of reminding her of our connection. While my connection to magic was woefully limited, my psychic abilities have remained stronger. It took little persuasion to make her do my bidding. She didn’t even know she was doing it. But that changed when the target was Felix. Her consciousness fought back when she realized he was a child.”
I shiver, despite the heat of the fire. When Crystal Taylor died the day after the attack on Felix, I knew there had to be a connection, but I never considered this. She wasn’t just the next victim on a list—she was being punished for failing.
Seth turns toward the fire. With a wave of his hand, a bunch of herbs to my right lifts off the ground and flies into the flames, which devour them instantly. I’m struck again by the
ease with which he’s wielding magic. He shouldn’t be able to do much of what he’s doing. “If your magic’s trapped in the crystal, how are you doing all this?”
He grins over his shoulder. “Do you know the best way to lie? It’s to tell things that are partially true. Abilities can be stored in quartz, it’s true, but they can also be directed into a willing host. My powers have increased with each death. Alec Crawford, Millie, Crystal Taylor—their energy now courses within me.” He shakes his head, sighing. “Unfortunately, this magic is merely a hollow echo of what resides in the crystal. Not nearly enough power to do what needs to be done.”
I take in a breath, calling on my psychic side. I need to keep him distracted. “And what needs to be done?”
“The town needs to be cleansed. It’s spent too many generations under the control of the ordinary and the unbeliever. When I control my magic again, Clearwater will return to its roots as a haven for people with abilities.”
I fight the urge to close my eyes in concentration. I don’t want Seth to suspect I’m up to anything. In my mind’s eye, I call up an image of a knot binding my wrists. I reach forward with my mind, willing the ropes to loosen. “If your goal is to reclaim the town for magic, why are you killing all the people with abilities? If you separate the circle from the crystal, won’t they all die?” I sink my teeth into my lower lip, wanting him to disagree, to share a loophole in the end result I foresee.
He glances back momentarily before returning his attention to the fire. “It’s lamentable, to be sure, but it’s unavoidable, really.”
My breath catches and my stomach clenches. Fox. I have to do something—I can’t just sit here while Seth uses my magic to kill someone I care about. I twist against the ropes, my heartbeat kicking up when I detect more wiggle room than before. It’s working.
“It is a shame about your friend Crystal. She looks so like my beloved Bess. She was from the Taylor line, too, you know.” He sighs. “Ah, well. It’s a minor problem—especially once I have my abilities back.”
A rope scratches against the inside of my wrist as it slides through the loops confining it. I tense as a burning sensation radiates up my arm. Seth turns, squinting, and I say the first thing that pops to mind to distract him from what I’m doing: “So, what? Crystal is some distant relative of your dead girlfriend and you were going to…? What? Dress Crystal up in old-timey clothes and convince her that her name’s Bess?”
His face hardens and a hard, sharp force connects with the right side of my face, sending me reeling backward. Unable to break my fall with my hands, I land face-first in the cold grass.
“You will not speak of my Bess with such disrespect. As if I could ever be satisfied with such a hollow imitation of my love.”
I roll onto my back, afraid he might notice the knots are looser than they were when he tied them, but the look on his face makes it clear he’s not seeing such details. His features are contorted in a mask of rage. Reflected firelight dances in his eyes, making him look entirely deranged. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, struggling to push myself back to a sitting position.
Seth gives no indication he hears me. “Bess was the gentlest soul that has ever walked this earth. In the end, it was that gentleness, that goodness that was her undoing. She sought to keep her younger brother safe from a gang of ordinary who wanted to entrap him in a barn. But it was she who became ensnared when a lantern caught some hay alight.” His eyes squeeze closed. “But she and I will be reunited—and we’ll be together as we were always meant to be.”
So focused am I on the gentle tugging of ropes against ropes, the incremental slackening of my bindings, that I almost miss Seth’s words—and their implications. “You can’t mean what I think you mean. You’re going to bring her back?”
His lip curls. “That’s hardly your concern.” He tips back his head and I follow his gaze. The waning moon is high, almost aligned with the bonfire. “Not long now.”
His words send a wave of nausea through my stomach. If I’m going to get away, I have to do it now. If I can get the knots undone and catch him at the right moment, maybe I can get to the tree line. Abandoned is my earlier idea of following the river to civilization: Hiding in the woods is probably my best option now. But will physical distance be enough to block him from channeling my magic? I have no idea. I don’t know how to break his connection to me, any more than I know how to break the circle’s connection to the crystal without killing them all.
The ropes around my wrist go slack and fall silently to the ground behind me. Seth’s back is to me, his eyes still on the moon. I bring my hands around to the front of my body and my fingers dig into the knots at my ankles. Seth lifts his hands and my stomach clenches as the ember of my magic flickers to life. Whatever he’s doing, he’s starting now. My pointer finger wiggles into the center of a knot and I pull at the rope, slipping the ends over and through each other until it, too, falls. My eyes dart to the trees to my right and I take in a breath. It’s now or never. The power is beginning to well within me, and I don’t know what will happen once he begins the spell properly.
Heart hammering, I push myself to my feet and take off for the woods. I’m maybe twenty yards away. If I can make it, I might be able to hide somewhere. Ten yards. I hazard a glance over my shoulder. Seth still faces the fire. I might actually make it. I pump my arms and gulp in the cold night air. Five yards. I’m almost there—almost free.
Although my path is clear, I stumble, tumbling forward. With my right hand I reach down to break my fall; my left reaches for the tree trunk less than a foot before me. My fingers don’t even skim the bark. My body thuds against the ground and my legs straighten behind me, pulled irresistibly backward.
“No you don’t.” Seth’s arm stretches toward me, his fingers splayed. My father’s ring glints on his pinky. My body bumps against the ground as an invisible force reels me back toward him. He raises his eyebrows, his expression dripping condescension. “Did you honestly think you could get away so easily?” He closes his fist and my muscles tense and lock, my body going rigid as a board. He smiles, his eyes flicking to the sky. “It seems that, like the moon, my hold on your magic is at its zenith. It’s time to begin.” He crouches to my side, brushing a strand of hair off my forehead. “I do hope you said goodbye to your dear Fox.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Seth begins chanting words I don’t understand in a low, rhythmic tone.
This is it. Game over. I’ve lost. My eyes fill with tears and I blink to clear them—thankful that my eyes and eyelids still function. The rest of my muscles are still frozen. I can’t even open my mouth to release the sob that builds in my chest.
I didn’t say goodbye to Fox. Why didn’t I? I take a tiny bit of solace in the fact that I probably won’t outlive him by much. Once Seth has his power back, he’ll have no more need for me.
The flicker of magic in my core flares, filling my abdomen. If only I could tap into that energy! To think, just weeks ago, that power scared me so much I wanted to tamp it down, to ignore it. Now I’d give anything to use it.
Tears streak from the corners of my eyes, across my temples, and into my hair. The cold night air freezes the damp trails. I’d shiver, I’m sure, if I could move.
Seth’s voice rises in volume and I stop trying to watch him, allowing my gaze to relax and stare straight up instead. The moon hovers above me and I fix on it. If I’m going to die, I at least want my final moments to be filled with beauty. I try to block out Seth’s chanting, but it fills my ears. Tears well up in my eyes so quickly I don’t bother blinking them away. The moon blurs to a smear of light against blackness.
A shadow crosses my vision, followed by a low grunt. Seth’s rhythmic chant ceases and hands clamp down on my upper arms. I blink rapidly and a face comes into focus.
Owen.
I want to scream, to wrap my arms around him, to smile—but I can’t. He pulls at my arms, trying to help me to my feet, but my muscles are unyielding. I cast
my eyes in all directions, trying to see around him. Seth hasn’t pulled Owen away yet, and he hasn’t started chanting again, so there must be someone else here.
Two figures struggle against each other in front of the fire. One silhouette is clearly Seth, but I can’t immediately place the second. It’s not until he straightens to his full height that my heart twists with recognition: Fox.
“Krissa, what’s wrong?” Owen’s fingers dig into my arms.
I can’t answer with my words, so I try sending an impression telepathically. A slight widening of Owen’s eyes tells me he understands.
Fox lets out a low cry before crumpling to the ground near my feet. Seth straightens, wiping a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth. His lips begin moving in a murmured chant and I send another thought to Owen: Get my ring.
Owen nods and launches himself over my body, straight at Seth. Seth throws him off easily and Owen lands on the ground just inches in front of the bonfire. I wait for him to spring back up to his feet, but he doesn’t. Seth raises his arms toward the moon again, his volume increasing. My father’s ring catches the light and I stare at it. A jolt courses through me and I know this was Owen’s plan—he wants Seth to think he’s won. I reach my mind out to connect with Owen’s and then focus on the one thing that might stop Seth: removing my ring from his finger. Slowly, the ring slips upward, toward Seth’s first knuckle. His chanting reaches a fever pitch and Fox moans. With every fiber of my being, I will the ring to slide off Seth’s finger, but it doesn’t move. Fox’s moan turns into a wail and my skin prickles. If Fox—who used the crystal’s power least of all the circle—is in this much pain, what must be happening to the rest of them?
Fox’s body convulses against my legs. I’m losing him, and there’s nothing I can do about it. The ring still hasn’t cleared Seth’s knuckle. So long as he has it, he controls my magic.
Wild Magic Page 26
