Michael threw his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Answer the question, though. I need to know when to skedaddle.”
Emily flashed him an irritated look. “There’s no skedaddling. They’ll be on you the moment you clear the dome.”
Michael disagreed with a shake of his head. “Not if I go through the back. They seem to be concentrated on the front.”
“Don’t you think they’ll have covered the back of the house somehow?” Emily rolled her eyes in exasperation. “These are magicians, not the cops or vigilantes. They have magic. They probably have a spell cast that will trap you the moment you break through the dome.”
“So, we’re stuck here?” Fear fleeted across his eyes for a second.
“It appears so.” She bit her lip and repeated, “It appears so.”
Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head. Emily began to feel sorry for him. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken all his hope. She was about to reach out and pat his shoulder when he looked up at her.
He held her gaze momentarily before flopping down on the edge of the porch. “Join me. We might as well watch the fireworks together.”
Just then, the Alfreds hurled another fireball at the dome. The earthquake tore across the building, rippling through it like it was nothing. Surprisingly, the cottage remained standing. The dome also stayed.
The Alfreds returned to chanting.
Emily joined Michael on the edge of the porch. “Aunt Anastacia says that it’ll take them a day or more to break the barrier.”
“Really?” Michael’s face brightened. “It means we have some time to get help.”
Emily sighed. This was it. This was the part where she had to tell him everything that had happened since he was abducted.
“We would have called for help, if there was help to be called for.”
“What do you mean by that?” Michael frowned. “Oh, you mean the vigilantes? Well, you don’t need to tell them much. Just tell them you’re under attack. I know this is outside of city limits, but if my dad finds out I’m here, he’ll come with the cavalry. Plus, I promise to keep my mouth shut.”
Emily chuckled. “I hardly think you’re capable of keeping your mouth shut, Michael.” She rolled her eyes again. “But no. That’s not what I meant by there’s no help.”
“Then what did you mean?” He was now serious. Emily could tell he was battling with thinking the worst.
“Your dad isn’t dead,” Emily started. “No one is dead . . . yet. But if we don’t get out of here, if we don’t go out to help them, they won’t be alive for much longer.”
“Stop talking in parables, Emily, and tell me what’s happening,” Michael retorted. The venom back in his voice. The hatred that he never seemed to be able to scrub off his words whenever he spoke to her.
Emily tried not to get pissed at him. “The whole town has been enslaved by the evil rove.”
“That’s impossible!” Michael laughed nervously. The uncertainty in his voice was as clear as daylight. His laughter ceased. “Tell me this is all a joke.”
Emily shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Michael.” She shut her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. She was about to delve into the story that was going to rock his world. She needed all the inspiration she could get. “Promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Promise me that you’ll allow me to finish—not interrupt me—whatever you hear,” Emily requested. “Promise me.”
Michael nodded. “I promise.” He folded his arms. “I won’t interrupt you. But I can’t say I won’t have questions after whatever it is you want to say.”
“Fair enough.” And with a deep sigh, she launched into the whole story.
16
The Alfreds continued to hurl fireballs at the dome. Every now and then, one fireball would cause the entire cottage to shudder at its foundation. Once or twice, Emily thought the cottage would come down on itself, but it remained—like an age-old mountain that could never be removed. It stood strong.
Emily told Michael everything that had happened. She started at the beginning. She started at when she’d been taking the bus to Dallas once a month to turn into her Owl form. She even explained that this was the reason he wasn’t able to get anything on her. The moment she released into her Owl form, she didn’t have to release again until the next month.
If she did it consistently, she could live for years and years and no one would know she was a shifter. This was how she planned to live her life until she received a mysterious text message that changed everything, that revealed someone knew her secret.
She suspected everybody. This led her to question everybody. After she’d vetted everyone, she’d turned up empty. Except that she’d been discovered by her best friend, Joanna, and probably her worst enemy, Rina—both of whom were now in the clutches of the Alfreds.
Emily saw the question form on Michael’s face when she spoke about Rina and Joanna. She raised a finger to preempt his question, flashing him a knowing look to remind him of his promise not to interrupt her.
Michael didn’t look like he liked it, but he sighed and nodded nonetheless.
Emily proceeded to tell him about how she’d discovered more about the evil rove and how she’d made a pact with the two girls to get to the bottom of things. She told him how her house had been vandalized in broad daylight and no one noticed—not even her neighbors.
Finally, she told him about how they discovered Nadarog Maragog. At this point, she had to use the term once, much to Selena’s horror, and explained to Michael how she didn’t want him to say the term again because of what it did to The Owl. They agreed on using the abbreviation Na-Ma. Emily explained what Na-Ma meant and how all this time, right from Mr. Winter’s father’s death until the time of their conversation, this family of evil roves had been seeking to perform the Na-Ma ritual.
Emily had gotten to the point of no return. She could either stop the story there, or go ahead to tell Michael everything. She decided to go ahead and spill it all. This shouldn’t be her burden to bear alone.
“The ritual involves two species of supernatural,” Emily started. She went on to explain the ritual as she understood it—how the ritual required an Owl and a warlock or witch . . . and they had to be siblings.
Michael, then and there, hissed a sigh of relief. “For a moment there, I thought I was the one.”
Emily didn’t reply. She only pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows.
“I’ve been having these dreams, you know . . . ,” he proceeded.
She knew. But she wasn’t going to tell him.
“Dreams about this girl being sacrificed on some altar in a dark cave somewhere,” Michael continued. “She’s sacrificed by a rove, obviously, and he’s very ancient. I can feel his power. He’s so strong. Unfathomably so . . .” He let his words trail off.
Michael looked into Emily’s eyes. He gave her a nervous smile. “I don’t know why I always thought it was you, though. Anytime I thought about the girl, I always thought about you. I didn’t really see her face. I just had an impression.”
He shook his head. “Maybe it was because, at the time, I was obsessed with catching you. I was sure you were an Owl.” That’s where his train of thought snagged on the truth. Fear exploded in his eyes. “You are an Owl,” he muttered.
“Indeed,” Emily said, almost amused.
“And they came for me.” Michael sounded confused—like he was trying to put a puzzle together, but the pieces didn’t fit. “Alfred Senior. Or, rather, I went after him, to prove to him that I wasn’t who he thought I was . . .”
“Yet, you were.”
“Yet, I was,” Michael replied dreamily. “They think—” His mouth froze in position, words escaping him.
Emily’s heart hung on tenterhooks.
Michael shook his head. “No, they can’t! That’s preposterous!” He cackled somewhat maniacally, his laughter tearing through the night air.
Emily allowed Michael to sort through the confu
sion on his own. She saw that he would arrive at the right conclusion. Better he did it on his own, and she confirmed it was true, than she told him on her own and he tried to deny it.
“But how?” Michael asked, shooting a questioning glare at her. “Surely, we’re not . . .” He growled. “Is this a joke to you?”
Emily shrugged. She wasn’t going to argue with him.
“Answer me!”
“No!” Emily roared. She pointed at the trio chanting just beyond the glimmer of the shield. “You think I’d joke at a time like this? When our lives are in danger? You think I’d joke about my father’s hex? You saw him, didn’t you?” Emily bit back her words. Arguing with Michael wouldn’t solve any problems.
She hissed a sigh. “Look, all I know is what I told you. You can decide to believe me or not. But those guys out there—they believe it.”
Michael was calm now. He settled back down on the porch beside Emily. They were silent for a while.
Michael finally said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
Emily shrugged. She was still too angry to say anything.
“We can’t be siblings,” Michael went on. “I mean, forget the obvious reasons of us having different parents and all, but you and me? Yuck!”
Emily scoffed. “Don’t think I’m pleased about it either. When I learned the truth, it made my skin crawl,” she lied. She remembered that the only thing she felt was dread. Michael was her brother. Was he going to accept her? At the time, she knew Michael would like nothing more than to see her disemboweled in the town’s center.
But then she’d found out that he, too, was a supernatural. And her dread turned to worry. She became worried about him. Not just because he was a supernatural, but because it turned out that he was her brother, too. And that was what sisters did for their brothers. They took care of them.
It was a little embarrassing, but she embraced it.
“So, what’s the logic behind us being brother and sister?” Michael asked. “Did my parents adopt me? Or did your parents adopt you? Was I found in a crashed space pod?”
“Your dad is really your dad,” Emily said cautiously. “But your mom isn’t really your mom. My mom was your biological mother. You inherited your powers from her.”
Michael was stunned into silence by this. Emily seized the opportunity to tell him the full background of his parentage—or at least what she knew. She explained how she had discovered his father’s mind was enslaved by the rove. His father had told her the story of Michael’s birth: how he was an illegitimate child of Everet Winter and Bernice Davies.
At the time, they were both married to their spouses. It had just been a tense and trying time for the town. Both their guards had been down, and they were old-time lovers, and you know what they say about old flames: they never die.
Once Bernice realized she was with child, she knew she could never let the truth come out about the baby’s parentage. So she conspired with Mr. Winter to fake a stillbirth. While Bernice mourned with Emily’s father, Mr. Winter had taken Michael out of town to return a few months later with him.
Mr. Winter’s explanation had been that Michael was his estranged brother’s child. His brother wasn’t ready for a child, so they’d allowed the vigilante chief to adopt him.
“Your mother, of course, received you into her arms because, at the time, they didn’t have any children. Later on, your kid sister would come along, but your mother would always love you as her own.”
Michael’s eyes were already teary. “They never told me.”
“They decided not to.” Emily shrugged. “Your mother still doesn’t know that you’re Bernice’s child and that your dad was unfaithful.”
“Does your dad know?”
Emily nodded. “I told him.”
“How did he take it?”
“He said he already knew,” she replied. “Besides, she’s already dead. There’s no need to split hairs about it now. And he loved her.”
Michael’s voice wavered. “I’m sorry.”
“About my mom’s death?” Emily asked, surprised. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
“She was my mother.” The tears slid from his eyes. He didn’t seem to care that he was crying in front of her. If she didn’t know him better, she’d have thought he wanted her to cuddle him in her arms.
“My mother . . . our mother . . . ,” the young man whimpered. “I can’t believe it.”
17
Michael became quiet for a long time. Emily thought it was convenient enough. At least she got to watch the Alfreds work a bit. It took them about ten minutes to chant their magic into a fireball. Then they hurled it and started all over again.
The dome was all different kinds of colors. It shimmered from red to blue to green as the constant barrage continued. It didn’t show any sign of breaking. It would seem that it had gotten used to the barrage.
Nevertheless, Emily knew it was weakening. She felt it in her bones. The more the Alfreds sent their fireball against the wall, the weaker it got. Aunt Anastacia gave it twenty-four hours. They already had less than that.
And Emily still hadn’t had the time to rest. To recuperate. Surely, there was going to be some sort of showdown. She needed to be at her fullest capacity if they were going to win.
Emily glanced at Michael. She knew she couldn’t go to bed now. Not when Michael knew the truth. Not when Michael knew that he was the warlock and she was The Owl and they were the siblings who were required to unleash hell on earth.
Michael could be an ass sometimes. Emily couldn’t predict what he would do. She couldn’t say if he would walk right out of the dome to challenge the Alfreds—or something else equally dangerous.
She knew she had to remain alert. At least until she was sure Michael wasn’t a danger to himself or to their plans. There was still plenty to worry about. Her friends were still in harm’s way. The entire town was still in the clutches of the evil rove. Plus, she still needed to deal with the Alfreds—running them out of town would be preferred.
Emily sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment. She felt the stress of the past few hours. It weighed heavily on her. In the darkness of her closed eyelids, she could sense the magic all around her. She could sense the powerful magic being created by the Alfreds every time they chanted. She could sense the magic Michael gave off—it was a slow, unconscious stream. She perceived the magic in the house. It was ancient—probably a bit rusty.
Emily wished she could go back to the time when Mom was still alive and she was blissfully unaware of her family’s dangerous history. Or even the time when it was just Selena and Emily, and Selena was just The Owl to her and they didn’t have any interaction. Not because she hated Selena or didn’t enjoy interacting with her now, but because those were simpler times. Back then, her only problem was not getting found out, and she had devised a clever way to keep her secret.
Now her problems had escalated to affecting the entire world. Now she was dealing with matters of life and death for not only herself, but her family, her friends, and the people of New Haven. Possibly the world. Her biggest fear was no longer just her own disembowelment—even though that thought was no less terrifying.
“How long have you known?” Michael’s soft voice pulled Emily out of her subconscious resting phase.
As she opened her eyes, the effort it took her to do so made her realize just how tired she had become. “Hmmm . . . ?” she muttered.
“How long have you known we were siblings?” Michael reiterated.
“Not long,” Emily replied. “This weekend.”
“It’s hard to believe,” Michael muttered. “And it’s been like this down the lineage, right? Your—our—mom was an Owl, and Anastacia is the witch . . .”
Emily nodded ever so slightly.
“But why?” Michael asked with a little bit of vehemence. “Why us?”
Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that it’s us, and we have to do everything we can to stop them.”
“No, what we need to do is stop these guys.” Michael leaped to his feet and started marching for the dome without even glancing back to Emily.
Emily ran after him but stumbled against a loose board and crashed to the ground. She screamed for Michael not to, but he wasn’t listening to her. After quickly pushing herself to her feet, she ran after him. By this time, Alice had stopped chanting and silently stood there waiting for him. The young girl wore a welcoming smile on her face—a challenge to him to meet her there.
Emily managed to put herself between Michael and the dome before he had the chance to get within range.
“Get out of my way!” Michael raged.
“No! Are you out of your mind?”
“They’re the problem! I won’t sit here and wait for them to come in,” Michael retorted. He was screaming more from anger than from reason. That’s why he was acting like a complete and utter moron.
Of course, Emily couldn’t tell him that to keep him from overreacting. “We can’t fight them,” Emily replied coolly. “We’re too weak. You’re too weak!”
“Oh yeah?” snorted Michael. “I guess they didn’t tell you what I did to their dad.”
“Cheap shot!” Alice fired.
Emily frowned and paused. She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes went from Alice to Marion, who was standing in the background, his face grim as always.
“What did he do to your father?” Emily was curious. She wasn’t sure why she directed the question to Marion. Maybe it was because she felt he was the one person who wouldn’t lie to her—at least not outright.
“He knocked Father out,” Marion replied, his tone expressionless. “Hit him with an unconsciousness spell. Father wasn’t expecting it.”
“Father wasn’t expecting him!” Alice snorted. “He snuck into our mansion.” Then she turned her attention to Michael. “I must say, that was ingenious, by the way. You managed to elude all the guards and snuck right into my father’s room—”
Michael made a weird noise.
Emily glanced back at Michael. His face was turning red.
Controlled by a Fire Demon: The Owl Shifter Chronicles Book Two Page 8
