A Lying Witch Book Three

by Odette C. Bell

  It didn’t take long until I unearthed a peculiar book. Which was saying something, considering every single book that sat on this table was stranger than the next. What was truly odd about this book was the undeniable reaction I had to it. As my fingers trailed along the spine, an absolute charge of magic powered through them, sinking into my wrists and eating up high into my shoulders. I had to clench my teeth against the powerful sensation lest they fall out.

  “What the hell is this?” I questioned through a tight, stiff, rattling breath.

  The book, of course, couldn’t answer. And yet, it took me too long to gather the gumption to open it.

  It rested heavily in my hands. Far more heavily than it should. Granted, the tome was large and weighty, yet hefting it felt as if I were holding a brick. No, not a brick – a man. I had to rest it back on the table before my wrists broke.

  The pages didn’t clunk as I opened them one-by-one, and yet they felt like they should. It felt as if the power and the weight of centuries were woven into every fiber of the parchment.

  It took me a long time to realize that I hadn’t taken a breath in half a minute, and I gasped as I finally came to a page I could read. The rest of the book had been mostly filled with gobbledygook – strange symbols that shifted before my very eyes. Now? Now it was written in English, plain and simple, though it seemed archaic in its use of punctuation and its wordiness.

  Sorcerer king.

  The book was about sorcerer kings.

  My hand had been pinning one of the pages open, and now it shook.

  I leaned all the way over the book, as far as I could go. I had to ignore the sensation in my stomach that told me it would consume me.

  I knew precious little about sorcerer kings – just the facts I’d heard from Jim, Bridgette, and Max.

  “The cost can never be quenched,” I read. “And it grows. With every second of every day, it grows. The more the sorcerer king seeks power, the more his happiness is exacted from his heart. For that is the true cost of infinite force – an empty soul.”

  I whispered the words under my breath, and I suddenly gasped. The language was archaic, and the thoughts circuitous, but I still understood what it was saying. The cost of being a sorcerer king was losing everything your heart desired.

  Everything.

  Though I wanted to stand there and try to comprehend that thought, try to connect it to what I’d already learned about Max from the past, I didn’t have time. Jim was back there, and he was running out of time.

  I closed the book and tried to hook it under my arm, intending to take it away with me. It rapidly became clear that it was too heavy to lug around.

  So I closed it reluctantly and returned my attention to looking for a weapon.

  It didn’t take all that long to find a set of shelves at the back of the room. Arrayed along them was such a strange collection of objects. From mundane things like torches and vases, to these truly complicated mechanical devices that looked as if they were straight out of a steampunk movie.

  With my tongue pressed between my teeth, I eventually found something that looked like a crowbar. At first glance, it appeared mundane – as if the Lonely King had bought it at the local hardware store for a couple of bucks. At second glance? I saw the magical runes carved into the metal.

  Hesitantly, I reached forward and plucked it up with a shaking hand. When it didn’t explode, I waved it experimentally.

  Realizing I couldn’t pin all my hopes on this object and return to Jim only to find out the crowbar was nothing more than a fancy magical toy, I looked around for something to vandalize. Because hey, at the very least I could take out my frustration on the Lonely King’s expensive stuff.

  I found a strange metal contraption whose purpose I couldn’t guess. What mattered was that it was made of thick magical bars that looked as if they were far sturdier than the same bars which held Jim in place.

  Placing the crowbar between the magical bars, I gave an experimental tug. And that was all it took.

  I felt a charge of magic race down the crowbar, and the curved tip suddenly ballooned, gorging itself until the bars snapped like dried bone.

  “Christ,” I managed as I jerked back.

  I stared at the shattered device by my feet, the crowbar still in my hand.

  Yep, this would work.

  I sucked in a breath then headed back to the door.

  No time. No time. The refrain repeated in my mind.

  I cast one last, longing glance at the book before I walked out of the room and closed the door. I entered the corridor warily, searching over my shoulder in every direction for any sign of the Lonely King.

  When I realized I was alone, I made my way back through the twisting corridors.

  I was lucky I had a great sense of direction – I was even luckier that that sense of direction counted for something in this constantly shifting mansion.

  I repeated my steps exactly, even repeated the points where I’d clutched the wall for support.

  Once I reached the right staircase, I took to the steps in exactly the same pattern and with the same hesitation between each. And that was all it took. Somehow, the growing steps reconnected to the right level, and I soon found myself in front of the exact section of wall Jim was behind.

  I brought up a hand to knock on the wall, then thought better of it. It wasn’t as if my fists were large and strong enough to be heard through plaster and wood. So I yanked at the crowbar and knocked it against the wall instead. As I struck it against the plaster, another charge of magic burst through it, shifted into the wall, and blasted a hole right through it.

  “Holy hell,” I spat, sure to keep my tone quiet even though surprise lurched through me.

  Fortunately, the building hadn’t shifted again, and the hole in the wall led right back into my prison cell.

  Jim was pressed all the way up against the bars of his cage, a totally surprised look smoothing his brow as he stared from me to the crowbar. “Found a weapon, then?”

  I nodded.

  “I thought I told you to knock?”

  I shrugged. “You did. I just knocked with a crowbar.”

  He shook his head and waved me over.

  I skidded over to the cage. I crammed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, winced, and shoved the crowbar against the bars. Again, the metal engorged itself, and with a groaning, splitting sound, the bars of the cage broke apart.

  Jim was smart enough that he’d moved to the back of the cage and had pressed himself right up against the bars. Fortunately, as the bars split, they didn’t send any shards of metal spiraling into him.

  As soon as the cage was broken, Jim thrust forward. He took the crowbar off me, and I didn’t protest.

  Then he turned his attention to the door. “Alright, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

  “No,” I said as I reached a hand out and locked it on his elbow, my grip tightening over his arm. “We’ll never make it out of here in time. Don’t ask me what’s happening, but the corridor and stairways out there – they keep shifting around. I feel like I’m in some kind of surrealist painting.”

  “Crap,” Jim managed, voice sharp with a harsh breath. “It could take years to find our way out of here.”

  “We could just take the window,” I commented as I extended a finger towards it. “I think that’s the real sky out there.”

  Jim paused. “You’re getting used to the magical world now, ha? Even teaching me a few tricks.”

  I grinned.

  Jim thrust towards the window, drawing the crowbar up and striking it against the glass wall as if he were striking a ball with a bat.

  The glass shattered and fell out of the window.

  Jim pushed towards the ledge, locked one hand on it, leaned out, and obviously tried to judge the distance down to the ground.

  I leaned past, and that’s when my stomach sank. It looked as if we were on the 10th floor somehow, as if this magical mansion was more like a tower.

&nb
sp; I swore under my breath.

  Jim didn’t. Jim just began to leverage himself out of the window. “Come on.”

  “You may be magical, but there’s no way I can climb that distance.”

  “Who said anything about climbing?”

  That same grin was still plastered over Jim’s face, and I was struck by the fact that if this were any other situation, we could probably be friends. I liked a guy who could laugh in the face of total, absurd danger.

  This wasn’t any other situation, though, and smiling wouldn’t see us safely to the ground.

  Jim muttered at me to hurry up, and despite common sense, I started to climb over the window ledge.

  “Okay, hold on,” Jim commanded as he reached forward and secured one lanky arm around my middle. It was completely different from being held by Max. Expectant, powerful tingles didn’t race through me and leap into my heart. Nope, just fear.

  “Hold on,” he said once more. Then Jim jumped. He did not, however, pitch into freefall. He kept the tip of the crowbar angled against the side of the mansion. Somehow, it stuck into the brick. As we dropped, the crowbar remained in the brick, controlling our descent as sparks and brick shards flew everywhere.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my teeth, and used my all to scream.

  Several seconds later, it didn’t matter. We reached the lawn below.

  Jim jerked away from me, swung the crowbar at his side, and let out a heck of a long whistle. “I don’t get to do that every day at the library. Now come on.” He ticked his head to the side.

  I pushed off to follow him through the large, sprawling grounds of the mansion.

  Though I wasn’t used to Bane City – considering I hadn’t had an opportunity for sightseeing – I still knew enough about the horizon line to appreciate I had no idea where we were. As crazy as it sounded, it almost looked as if we were in a bubble. Though there were buildings at the edge of the mansion’s compound, the perspective wasn’t exactly right. The buildings seemed bowed in slightly, as if they’d all been replaced by leaning Towers of Pisa. “What’s going on?”

  “This mansion is occupying other space.”

  “Other space?”

  “Basically, another realm. It is pocketed between folds of reality. All we have to do is break the bubble, and we will make it back to the city.”

  Or, at least, that was the theory. Because, at that moment, I heard the loudest blast I’d ever heard. The sound screeched around me, slammed into me, buckled my knees, and sent me sprawling onto the grass.

  Though Jim was also affected, he managed to keep on his feet. “Shit,” he swore. He reached towards me.

  I couldn’t move.

  I heard another bellow shake through the grounds, and this time I recognized the magic-laced voice. It was the Lonely King. “Come back here,” he screamed. As his voice echoed out, it powered towards me, slicing into me once more. There could now be no doubt whatsoever that his magic had something to do with his voice.

  Jim had just enough time to stagger back, bring the crowbar up, and use it as some kind of defense against the Lonely King’s word magic.

  I wasn’t so lucky. Magic slammed into my back, pinning me to the ground.

  Jim lurched towards me.

  “No, get out of here. Get out of here,” I spat.

  He ignored me.

  I heard the Lonely King. He sounded like a stampeding elephant.

  Jim shoved a hand out, trying to pick me up.

  I used the last of my energy to jerk my head up to stare at him with wide open, desperate eyes. “No, get out of here. Raise the alarm. Call the coven. Find Max. Buy us time. Give me time.”

  Jim staggered backward, obviously seeing reason.

  It was just in time, because the Lonely King screamed once more, and the force of his magic blasted into me, pinning me against the grass with the force of an anchor. “Get out of here, go,” I used the last of my breath to scream at Jim.

  I watched him turn and run away.

  I didn’t take my eyes off him until he reached the edge of the grounds and used the crowbar to break through the bubble.

  Then the lonely King was upon me.

  I didn’t even have time to wince. I felt a hand lance down and clamp over the back of my neck. Magic ate into me. It honestly felt as if it blasted through my veins like tiny bombs.

  There was nothing I could do as unconsciousness took hold.

  Chapter 10

  I awoke.

  This time it wasn’t slow. I felt like a spring snapping back into position.

  I was hooked over the Lonely King’s shoulder as he walked me through some kind of compound. The storm raged above us, thrashing down with such power, the ground around us was flooding.

  The force of the water wasn’t strong enough to stop the Lonely King as he reached a large set of imposing doors that led into a rundown factory.

  Rather than reach a hand out and open the doors, he spread his fingers, opened his mouth wide, and sent a massive charge of bright golden yellow magic slamming into the metal. The doors exploded inward, shards of metal spinning out in every direction. One section of door sailed into an electrical substation box and ripped it apart, sparks spewing everywhere.

  The Lonely King carried me forward.

  Though my mind was bleary, I was aware of enough to note the broken factory around me.

  Whole sections of the roof were missing, letting in the streaming rain and wind, puddles pooling over the cracked concrete floor.

  But none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was the massive magical ring in the middle of the room. It was raised on a plinth, and it crackled like trapped lightning.

  It would be the time gate.

  The Lonely King stopped several meters in front of it and threw me off his shoulder.

  I slammed into the floor with a sickening crunch, the breath knocked out of me.

  I watched him pace. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  The rain kept driving down with all the power of the apocalypse. I’d never heard anything like it. It assaulted the tin roof above like an army.

  The Lonely King kept stalking before the ring. It crackled at his approach, changing color whenever he was near.

  “It’ll be enough. It’ll be enough,” he kept repeating to himself.

  I didn’t need to interrupt his frenzy to ask what he was talking about. It was clear. I would be enough. He no longer had another witch heart. He was pinning his hopes on the heart of a seer.

  A strange cold melancholy had swept over me. Maybe it was submission, surrender, the last few moments of a soul who now knew no matter what she tried, she would not be able to escape.

  Or maybe it was just this damn drafty factory. There was a massive hole in the roof. It let in the driving wind and rain. I watched as sheets of rain slammed into the pock-marked concrete with such force it was a surprise the floor didn’t crack.

  The rain was so heavy, there was practically a swimming pool under the roof. Fortunately, the floor was slanted, and the water didn’t tip towards me and drown me.

  I shivered as another pulse of cold sailed through me.

  The Lonely King kept pacing, his footfall so quick, it was a surprise he didn’t leave skid marks along the concrete.

  He kept looking at his watch, yanking up his wrist and hissing as he tapped the clock face.

  I couldn’t see the time, but I could feel it. That was no lie. It wasn’t the fantasy of my broken mind. I could honestly feel time well around me and charge in the air. I felt it crackle down my skin, sink into my sternum.

  I did not, however, feel it slip through my fingers. Instead, it gathered around me, almost like a weapon.

  “Minutes, now. Minutes,” the Lonely King hissed as he drew to a halt directly in front of the ring.

  With every passing second, the ring was charging with magic until it crackled like a spinning circle of flame. On any other day in any other situation, it would have been beautiful. There was n
othing like it in the mundane or natural world. It was uniquely magical and singularly powerful.

  The air now buzzed with so much magic, it felt like I’d fallen into a pit of live wires.

  “Not long now,” the Lonely King boomed, his voice laced with so much magic, it caused the whole room to shake.

  Using most of my strength, I shoved one of my hands against the cold, wet floor, and pivoted to the side, angling my head up to see the roof above the ring. With a sudden boom of power, the roofing tin flew off, revealing the pounding rain above. And yet, though the rain drove down from every angle, none of it could touch the ring. It evaporated in hisses of steam meters above the ring, succumbing to the sheer amount of power pulsing off it in waves.

  I caught sight of the side of the Lonely King’s face. Crazed didn’t come close to describing how he looked. There was something so… broken about his gaze. His whole face, even. The kind of broken someone tries to hide but can never truly conceal for they can never be whole again.

  The Lonely King kept obsessively checking his watch, subvocalizing the seconds as he counted them down with stiff movements of his lips.

  His crazed gaze would dart between me and his watch, me and his watch.

  I finally felt time slipping between my fingers.

  “It’ll be enough,” the Lonely King whispered under his breath once more. “Your heart’s strong – your magic is stronger. It’ll do. It will open my gate to her.”

  “Who is she?” I asked.

  No. Damn. Wrong question. It broke the spell.

  He turned to me and gave a stuttering laugh. “You should know – you saw my future, didn’t you? But you didn’t. You lied. And you’re wrong – so wrong. She’ll come back to me. I have enough magic now.”

  “I wasn’t wrong. But I did lie. I didn’t see your future. I didn’t have to. Because we both know it’ll happen. You’re a sorcerer king, and you’ll never be able to hide from your magic. You’ve amassed too much. It will always cost you your heart’s desire.”