Grunting, I sit up, back stiff, and instinctively clutch my side. I slide my hand underneath my jacket and grope my flesh, smoothing my palm over my wrinkled and stained T-shirt. The pain is almost completely gone.
But how is that possible? Did I heal myself?
I think about the events that led to this moment, completely ignoring the witches’ banter as I assess my wounds. Abuela used her air magic against me, and the snap in my chest was all too real. I know I felt bone breaking, and that was only moments ago. How can it be mended now?
My grandmother’s power formed a solid, impenetrable wall, and she used it to compress every inch of my torso. My bones gave way, something broke, and the pain radiated through me with a ferocity I have not experienced in months, thanks to my former vampire strength.
But now, as I press more firmly against my rib cage, the pain is gone.
Is it possible that the pit within me is not a void after all? I think about Mamá’s words. She explained that the spell would sever my link to the vampire, but does that mean the vampire is truly gone? I cannot access its strength or heightened senses, and Mamá’s spell was meant to leave only the witch. If I am the witch, then I am not powerless. I should still be able to summon magic. Maybe I was not trying hard enough. Maybe I just needed a little push—or, in my case, a little compression—to tap into my power.
My mind is spinning, my thoughts racing as I consider this newfound knowledge. I assumed I was tainted by this dark spell. I thought my magic was forever out of reach. It was so close, but I could not quite connect to it. I was beginning to think Mamá expected my reaction and used this specific spell to punish me.
But my magic was there, and unlike my assumptions, it was not simply to tantalize and remind me of days past. I just needed to stretch a little further in order to grab on to it. I just needed to believe in myself again.
Mamá hacks a wet, raspy sound that catches my attention, and I blink away the many thoughts swarming my mind. Still planted firmly on the ground where my grandmother left me, I look up at my mother. But she still does not look at me. I wonder if it is shame, embarrassment, or disgust that keeps her from meeting my gaze.
Mamá is walking beside Liv, and I find myself loathing my former best friend. She has never been better at choosing the most inopportune time to make her presence and distaste in me known. She judges me for my choices and believes the worst of me, even though she was never in my situation.
How can she know she would not have made the same choices I did? I made mistakes, but I have always done what I thought was right. And the witches punish me for it. But no more. It is time I fight back.
“Perhaps we should bring our guests with us,” Abuela says, breaking the silence. I hate the way she emphasizes guests, as if this is how she would actually treat someone she cherishes and respects.
A knot forms in my chest, clenching my heart so tightly I fear I will actually pass out. My mouth runs dry, my breath hitches. The darkness in my grandmother’s voice is undeniable. Whatever is upstairs excites her to the point of risking our escape.
Slowly, Will and I ascend the stairs. He leans against me, offering more weight than I can handle. My forehead is damp, my chest heavy, as I carry weight for two up the long, narrow staircase.
When Will trips on a step, tumbling forward, I fall with him, fearing what will happen if he must catch his fall on his own. I let him slump against me, using my own arm to prevent smacking our foreheads against the sharp edges of the steps before us.
Will mumbles something under his breath—an apology, I think—but I ignore him. He does not need to apologize for the damage the witches have done. His embarrassment pains me.
Instead of responding, I help him up, letting him rest against me once again. I knew he was in bad shape, but I did not realize he was so cut off from his magic that he was not healing at all. Clearly, he has not experienced what I have, and I consider using the strength I have left to try to heal him.
I glance at Will and smile softly. He looks so different now. He is tall and lanky, his skin pale and taut. His hair is caked with dirt, his clothes are torn, and his eyes are dark and sunken. His body is bruised and bleeding, but his blood is not red. It is as black as the evil residing within him. I pray Holland will find a way to reverse this spell, because Will can only handle so much pain before he completely succumbs to it. And it is only a matter of time before I fall victim too.
Once again, we climb the steps, walking nearer to the bright, luminescent hallway ahead. Something about emerging above, joining the witches who await us, makes me nervous.
My heart is beating rapidly in my chest, and I am certain Will feels it. Our bodies are pushed up against each other as we work our way through the dozen or so unused coats that clutter the closet. When we emerge, the doorway to Will’s basement prison slams shut behind us, and I jump at the sound.
Abuela is there, smiling at me, only inches behind us. Her eyes glimmer in the dim lighting, and her lips curve into a devious grin. It makes my blood run cold to see her be so…ruthless, so deranged, so unloving. Does she even realize how far gone she is?
She does not look at me the way a grandmother looks at her granddaughter or the way a high priestess looks at a young witch. I imagine she looks at me the way a hungry lion looks at a wounded gazelle. Somehow, I know I have only seconds before she feasts.
Will whispers something to me, and I glance up at him. I frown, giving him a puzzled expression. I was too busy worrying about my own problems to have heard his confession.
“I have…to sit,” Will says softly.
I nod and look around, knowing I will find nothing acceptable for him to use. My grandmother will refuse him comfort, even as he sucks in his dying breath. I never knew she could be so cruel, but I am grateful to have seen this side of her. Once we make it out, there will be no going back for me. The witches are so desperate to sever something—why not our familial ties? Even if all I have is a dull, rusty hatchet, I will hack through those myself.
The house is nearly empty. Besides Abuela, Mamá, and Liv, there are only a few other witches. They watch us cautiously, far too eager to aid my former comrades should my grandmother give the ultimate order. I know we must be on our best behavior if we want to make it to nightfall.
I glance through the kitchen and out the window, hoping I can assess the time by seeing the sun’s position, and I freeze.
Darkness has befallen Darkhaven. It is night. The moon is high in the sky. What happened to the sun? To the day? How long was I down there, trapped in time, succumbing to magical torture at the hands of my own blood?
I nudge Will with my shoulder and immediately regret my actions. He opens his eyes, still overly drowsy; his brief moment of reprieve was definitely not enough to dull the ache. I can tell his lids are still heavy even without truly looking at him. He needs food, water, rest—and he desperately needs a shower.
“It is night,” I hiss. I never had a chance to divulge the plan with him. He was too busy trying to convince me that things could be worse. I snort at that thought, catching Mamá’s glare.
“Come, children,” Abuela says.
She leads us from the hallway, through the kitchen, and to the sliding glass doors. We step outside, finally witnessing what caused such a ruckus.
Several feet away, standing near our family altar, the very one I have decorated so many times I have lost count, is Hikari. Her black pixie locks are slicked back, shiny against the moonlight. She is dressed in all black, and the sheath at her hip is empty. Her gaze darts from witch to witch, as if she is focusing intently on looking alert.
Another witch walks over to us and hands a sleek silver dagger with a wrapped black handle to my grandmother. I do not have to ask Hikari to know this is her weapon. It is almost identical to the one the others use. I assume this blade has brought many rogue vampires to their end, and now, my family intends to use it to send Will and me a message. Either we fall in line, or she will cast us out on
e final time.
I glance at my grandmother, understanding why she was so eager to allow us the opportunity to leave the basement dungeon. She stopped her physical assault only to cause emotional distress. She wants me to watch as she murders my friend. It is a scare tactic, and I know her well enough to know she plans to use this to ensure compliance. If she thinks murdering an innocent creature will convince me to obey her orders, then she truly has lost her mind.
“It seems you have a visitor, Ava,” Abuela says. Her gaze averts from me to Hikari and then back again.
My grandmother grasps the handle of the dagger she has stolen and slaps the width of the blade against her other palm. She is waiting for me to respond, to acknowledge Hikari’s presence, but I will not. Instead, I stare at my friend, my ally, who shakes under the gaze of so many formidable witches.
Hikari tries to stand tall, but being surrounded by her enemy, all mere seconds away from joining forces to summon the deadly elements, has an effect on her presence. Already petite, Hikari seems so much smaller. She looks…weak. I know she is not, but the witches are confident. There may not be a full coven here tonight, but they do not believe one vampire can outsmart them.
They are wrong.
“It seems your friend was going to rescue you,” Abuela says. “Tell me, child, were you aware of her plan?”
Again, I do not answer. It does not matter what I say. If I admit that this was part of my plan to escape, I will be punished. If I say I did not know Hikari was going to come for me, Abuela will not believe me, and she will punish me for lying.
“Have you nothing to say?” my grandmother hisses, her anger tipping to the boiling point. She is seething, furious with my silence. She wants me to beg for my life, for Hikari’s, but even I know that is a fool’s dream. She will never grant leniency. She will never offer mercy. Our only way out is to fight for our freedom. But this we anticipated. Unfortunately, we did not expect my grandmother’s ruthlessness.
A burst of air magic slams into my back, and Will and I fall forward. I should have expected her cheap shot, but I did not. We drop to the ground so quickly, I do not have time to break my fall—or Will’s. Our faces smack against the frozen earth, but we land in a pile of fresh, soft snow.
I push myself up. Frantically shoveling away the fluff that buries my sick friend, I dig a path for Will to turn over. He hacks up more blood, and this time, when he spits it out, there is no denying its color. Thick, sticky, and black, the tarry substance that seeps from his mouth is definitely not blood. We stare at it in disbelief before he wipes away the evidence with the back of his hand.
“You are going to be okay,” I whisper to him, praying I sound more confident than I feel right now.
“No, you will not,” Abuela says. She stands behind us, a dark shadow lurking over our sunken frames. Even though I am certain it is impossible, we sink even farther into the ground as she stares down at us.
“Por favor, Abuela. No hagas esto,” I say, pleading with a clearly insane woman. My grandmother is too far gone—I know that. The black magic she cast has wormed its way into her head. Her skin is pale and veiny, with black streaks now almost completely covering her body.
How does no one else see what this magic is doing to her? Do they not understand that this will happen to them too? She succumbed first, but who will be next? I fear it will be Mamá, and I worry our link will ensure my demise as well.
“Tuviste tu oportunidad. La desperdiciaste,” Abuela says, grinding her teeth as she stares down at me.
“¿Qué? Are you serious?” I shout. “You never gave me a chance!”
A gust of air smacks into the side of my face, the bitter cold temperatures amplifying the pain. My grandmother struck me with her magic because she is too great a coward to use her hand. She smiles.
She wants me to lash out, to fight back. She wants me to prove to the others that I am no better than an animal worth putting down, as if I am some rabid beast intent on terrorizing this town. If they must fear someone, they should look at Abuela. But I know they will not, so I do not even try talking sense into them.
I clench my jaw shut, breathing heavily until my anger subsides. I am tired of being her punching bag, but I cannot ignite a war. Not tonight. Not until the moment is right. I may have Hikari by my side, but Will is still too weak to run, and I cannot carry him the whole way.
“Defiéndete,” my grandmother orders, but I ignore her. I will not fight back. I will not give her the ammunition she needs to order the witches to kill Hikari. I know they will not stop at her. They will take out Will and me and anyone else who ever questions their orders.
“Perhaps your friend has better survival instincts,” Abuela says as she steps back, granting Will and me much-needed space. I hear Will choke out a breath, and I try to help him up. I do not know which friend she means—Will or Hikari—so I fear for them both. I know Hikari can handle herself, so I assume Abuela is talking about Will, who clearly cannot withstand my grandmother’s fury.
“This is what it has come to,” Abuela says loudly.
I glance up at her, confused. She is no longer looking at me. She looks to the few witches who have come to her aid. I do not know where the others are. It is late, and I am certain Mamá and Abuela were not expecting a vampire attack so soon. Will and I are weak, and we were only taken captive recently. I suspect this is why the other coven members are at their own homes, resting peacefully tonight.
When they wake, they will discover the ambush. I wonder if they will feel it the way I did. Will they notice the exact moment their coven has been severed? Will they mourn their loss the way I miss being a vampire?
“These abominations are ungrateful,” Abuela says. “We offered them renewed life, a sense of purpose, the opportunity to walk among us again, and they spit on us. They have no intention of rejoining us. Just today, I found my own granddaughter attempting to escape with our captive. The spell was supposed to unite us, but it is only pushing us further apart.”
The other witches nod, and a few offer me piercing glares.
“They will never again be one of us,” someone else shouts. I recognize her soft voice instantly.
I tear my gaze from my grandmother to meet Liv’s eyes. In the moonlight, I see how much the black magic has affected her too. She looks frail beside the others. The moonlight illuminates her pale skin, emphasizing each bony curve. In the dark basement, I did not notice the spider web veins threading their way through her skin. They coat her arms and swarm up her neck. Unlike my grandmother’s afflictions, Liv’s have not quite reached her head, but I know they have pierced her heart. How else can she be so cruel?
I think back to the basement lighting. Was it enough to see her clearly? Were the marks there when we were in the dungeon? Or does this cancer move this quickly? Is this why Will is so sick? Until I saw the black tar spewing from his mouth, I thought he was merely hungry, thirsty, exhausted after days of torture, but clearly, something more is happening. He too is succumbing to the darkness.
I grab on to Will, holding him closely, as if my touch will keep away the monsters. I know it will not. This magic is far stronger and far darker than I predicted. If Holland still has not found a way to reverse the spell, I fear we will not survive.
“We must rid the world of them—once and for all,” Abuela says before she looks down at me.
She is only a few feet away, and already, her face betrays her inner desire. She faces no turmoil, no fear. She does not care that she is telling these people—most who do not know me—to kill me. I understand why the witches are so prejudiced against that which they do not understand. They fear it, and they raise their young to fear the same things. My only hope was to escape this vicious cycle.
My grandmother takes a step toward me, Hikari’s dagger tight within her grip, and a million different ways she can kill me flash before my eyes. I do not have the protection of heightened senses or superior strength to keep me safe, and I wonder if she planned this all
along. Did she ever intend to give me a chance at a new life? Or was it always her intention to eliminate her burden by removing me from Darkhaven completely?
Her fingers tease the black fabric strap of the dagger in her hand, her nails scratching at it as she smiles down at me. My pulse is rising, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts. I try to think of a way to escape, but every scenario playing in my mind ends the same way.
We all do not make it out alive.
I glance at Will, who smiles at me with sleepy eyes. Sometimes, when he looks at me, I feel like he can read my mind. We both understand how dire our situation is. We both understand it is kill or be killed, but everyone knows we do not have the strength or the numbers to survive this fight.
At least, that is what Hikari and I want the witches to believe.
I panic, making a show of my emotions. I breathe heavily, shrieking for my mother to save me. Deep down, in the very center of my heart, it stings to ask this of her, because I know she will refuse me. She does not even look my way when I beg for my life, and that reality hits me—hard.
Every time I think this is the moment I will remember forever, this is the moment my former coven has pushed too far, this is the moment my life is over due to the depraved actions of my family, they do something else even more vicious, even more spiteful, even more malicious. It hurts me to know I am related to such vile beings.
“How can you do this to me?” I say, letting the tears flow freely. I do not have to pretend anymore. The pain of her actions root deeply in my gut.
I think about all the times I fought for them. I defended them. I offered my life and my soul to protect them, and every chance they got, they tried to take me down. Amicia once told me these witches do not deserve my loyalty, and my biggest regret is not ruining my relationship with my family by asking a vampire to turn me into one.
My biggest regret is the moment I did not listen to the vampires when they warned me about the malicious actions of my own people. I was a fool who believed in peace and love, hope and prosperity. I believed the next generation deserved more than this. They deserve more than some pointless feud destined to end in nothing but death.
Dark Spell Page 11
