Annie looked into the darkness. What few images she could see were dark, fuzzy. She took another breath. The stench of death and burning wood wafted to her.
Where am I?
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as the fog began to lift. A cold hand grazed her cheek. Annie shuddered, and her swollen shoulder shook.
“Is she awake yet?” The male voice seethed impatiently. His footsteps shook the floor, which creaked beneath him as he paced.
A dark shadow cut across the room.
“She’s woozy, I think,” a second voice replied.
Annie’s head spun. She turned toward the voice and could see two orange eyes gleaming. Over the strange man’s shoulder, a window let in low light and reflected on a mirror beside it.
I’m still at home.
She pulled against the smooth wood of the chair—her kitchen chair. In her bound state, it was grossly uncomfortable. Loosening the bindings was nearly impossible; they were magically joined together with her palms facing each other. The rope that held her wouldn’t budge.
A tall, thin shadow strode along the hallway to the front door.
The Fraternitatem?
Annie filled her lungs with muggy air, putting pressure on her shoulder as shooting pains coursed through her left side.
Cham where are you?
Footsteps stopped in front of her. She got a strong whiff of the market, of dung and dirt and wet animal fur.
“What do you want?” she said through gritted teeth.
“You have something of mine and I’d like it back,” the man sneered.
Annie knew she should feel fear. No one knew where she was or what was happening. She was pissed instead.
“Turn on a light so I can see you,” she countered.
The silhouette of an arm whipped around, throwing on the hallway light. A tall man towered over her. He lacked hair on the left side of his head, and his bald patch clearly featured a dark line.
A scar?
Annie’s eyes darted from his face to his torso and down his legs. He didn’t dress like Benaiah. He wore no cloak or identifying symbols. He reminded Annie more of Gibbs, with the tight pants, T-shirt, and a well-worn leather jacket with a rip at the hem.
“I’d like it back,” he jeered. His mouth pulled against his taut skin, revealing protruding teeth.
A vampire.
The cold hand yanked on her hair again, sending her head backwards, a jolt of pain so strong she felt nauseated.
“You have to be more specific,” she said as she held in vomit that sat in her throat. “Let go of me!” she shouted at the vampire.
The vampire laughed at her discomfort and wrapped more hair around his hand. Annie’s eyes dashed across the room as she planned an escape. Fearful either one of them would jump her teleport, she decided she needed to head outside for the alley behind the house. The shelter of a clump of trees could aid her escape.
The vampire removed the hair from her neck, exposing soft skin. His fangs extended automatically, and he looked at her like a piece of meat. Annie grimaced.
“It’s wasn’t in your blood lock. Nice touch by the way. Where is my ring?” The scarred man kept control of his voice, though Annie could detect his tension.
Is he the master of the Fraternitatem?
Mortimer’s warning rang in her ear, like a beacon.
Give them the ring and run for safety.
Panic stuck in her throat; she could barely speak. She turned her eyes toward the kitchen and saw that the cabinet was blown apart. Wood shards scattered across the floor, and her Book of Shadows lay in tattered pieces, scorched and still smoking. She drew in a sharp breath. All of her dad’s notes, burned and gone.
“You blew apart my cabinet for nothing. I don’t have whatever ring you think I have.”
The man stepped forward. Beyond the stench of the market, Annie could smell his own body odor of sweat and garlic. She grimaced.
He’s protecting himself from the vampire.
“I know the Wizard Guard has the body, and I’m pretty sure that imbecile hid the ring on himself before he died. So give me back my ring!”
His palms went up as if to strike. It took all Annie had to keep from jumping at the sight of him preparing to hex her. She kept her gaze focused on the six-inch scar that ran across his partially bald head.
Did a human or creature do that to you, dude?
“I know you’re with the Fraternitatem. I don’t have your ring, but I know where it is and can get it for you,” she offered.
His eyes crinkled. “Fraternitatem?” he mumbled and blinked in confusion or maybe fear. He clearly worked for someone, but maybe not the Fraternitatem—maybe the djinn or even Gladden.
They’re still trying to clean up their mess.
Annie twisted her wrists; the ties dug deeply into her skin. Seeing her squirm, the vampire pulled on her hair again.
“Knock it off, jackass!” she shouted to the vampire.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to give the orders. Give us the ring, and I promise we’ll kill you quickly.” The tall man threatened her as though he was in charge, but he acted nervous as he immediately returned to pacing and wringing his hands.
He’s not really in charge.
“I don’t have your ring. Who told you I did?”
The man sneered and placed his hands on her knees and put his face inches from hers. Even in the dark, she saw every blemish, every scar. He had lived a rough life—most likely entirely at the black market, which seeped into his skin and hair and emitted his scent to her home. Annie grimaced.
“You are a wizard guard, and you’ve been poking around my market. I know you have the ring, now tell me where it is!” His hand whipped across her face.
The slap echoed and stung her face, like tiny pins pricking across her skin. He didn’t offer time for a comeback or witty retort. Immediately, she felt the cold steel of a cursed athame across her cheek, piercing her skin.
He called it his market.
“Killing me won’t get the answer you want, Gladden.” She guessed that he was very desperate to clean up his mistakes.
Annie worked her wrists, twisting them enough to expose her palms. Aiming at the vampire, she cast a jinx that sent the creature flying into the wall, landing against the very heavy and extremely expensive mirror on the wall. It crashed to the floor and shattered into thousands of little shards that sparkled in the light.
Gladden stopped as his plan unfolded. With her untied legs, Annie kicked him in the crotch; he doubled over, incapacitated, and fell to his knees. Now able to move her wrists, she magically released the binding spell so the rope slid to the floor. Lunging from her seat, she ran through the house, yanked open the heavy back door, and sprung through the thin screen door. It bounced several times as she ran through the snow-covered yard, out past the fence and alley, hiding herself in a clump of trees across the street.
Years ago, a narrow trail had wound through these trees. Annie and Janie Parker, her best friend, would follow the path to a secret hiding place only the two of them knew existed. Annie ducked inside the trees and felt her way for that thin path.
I know it’s here somewhere.
The opening was now overgrown with branches and bushes and was covered in snow. Annie slid inside the narrow path and followed the uneven ground, her thin shoes covered in snow and ice.
Gladden and the vampire left her house. She could hear their angry banter through the trees. They followed her footsteps in the snow; she pushed forward, pulling a low branch from her face, and headed deeper into the trees.
Their arguing echoed in the forest; she picked up her pace. Branches rustled, snow fell. She could hear them gaining on her.
The trees, even without leaves, were so thick and dense, that they darkened the forest floor. Annie couldn’t find the landmarks she had used as a kid. Ignoring her growing panic, she moved quickly and stretched her hands out in front of her, searching for overflow gate that she shoul
d have reached by now.
Maybe I’m way off trail and several feet from where I should be.
“She ran in here; I know she’s here!” the vampire argued from behind Annie.
“I don’t see her anymore,” Gladden grunted.
Annie’s heart pounded. She slipped and slid, attempting to gain distance until she crashed into the gate and bent forward.
“I smell her, you dumbass!” the vampire screamed.
Annie’s shoulder twinged as she teleported over the metal gate, slipped in the mud, and landed on her knees.
Crouching just below the height of the shortest bushes or fallen tree branches, Annie scooted along the trail. When Gladden’s flashlight scanned the area, she crawled behind a dead tree stump three feet high and listened as their footsteps crunched along the path.
The flashlight illuminated the tree just above her. She ducked farther in the mud.
“She’s not here! Damn it!” screamed Gladden.
Annie felt a small sting on her cheek where the knife had dug a little too deep. She touched it with frozen fingers.
“The girl came here. She’s in here, and I smell her,” argued the vampire.
“She teleported, you nimrod,” Gladden said, easily giving up the search.
Beams of light illuminated the trees to the north. Annie ran south in the direction of her secret hiding spot, the one that even Samantha had never known about.
The earth sloped downwards. She slid across the snow and mud, stumbling in the underbrush. As she slid, her outstretched arm wrapped around a thin tree and yanked on her shoulder. She bit the side of her mouth to prevent a scream from escaping.
With a deep breath, she let go of the tree and jumped into her spot where she remembered it would be, though now it was covered in thick foliage. She turned sideways and sucked in her stomach, fitting herself inside a hole between the root systems of two trees. When she was nine, the spot fit two children easily, though Janie had never liked it underground. Now, as an adult, Annie found herself squeezed in tightly. She rested against the dirt as the voices faded away. Either the men were lost in the trees or they had given up. Regardless, Annie hunkered down and planned her escape.
Chapter 16
Scrying for magic wasn’t a difficult skill, though not every witch or wizard had the ability, desire, or need to do it. To be safe, Annie assumed Gladden had this knowledge. Most likely, he and the vampire had stolen something of hers with which to find her.
No matter where she went, they would be able to track her—and if they found her, Bitherby was next.
With that realization, Annie believed her safest option was Tartarus Prison.
Who would break into there?
Regardless of that, she needed to get the elf first.
In the quiet darkness, she left her hiding spot. Snow fell through the naked branches and landed on her head. She ignored her cold, wet feet and hair as she closed her eyes and teleported back to school.
Windmere School of Witchcraft was built along the northern border between Canada and Minnesota. From the classrooms or dorm rooms on the northern side of the building, on a clear day you could see into Canada. Today she couldn’t see three feet in front of herself; the storm was thick and blew wildly. She attempted to land near the stables on the south side of the school grounds, but when she landed she slid across the frozen snow, landing on her ass.
Gingerly, she rose and stared at the stables, which were made up of three large, weather-beaten barns. They were covered in a thick layer of snow and rumbled under the weight of it. She traipsed across open flat land and followed the sound of arguing, which was so loud that she could hear voices above the blustery wind.
Annie stumbled against a chunk of wood.
What the hell?
At her feet were shattered pieces of roof. She looked up and saw that a chunk of roof had been blown off. Suddenly her heart sank. She feared they were arguing about something Bitherby had done.
She hesitated to open the doors, but the squeal of the elf forced her to. The heavy wood doors hung from tracks and whined when she slid them open.
This barn was a storage building, housing food and other items that allowed Windmere employees to care for the many magical creatures that lived in or around the school. Bales of hay were stacked against the far wall, though one was knocked over with the hay scattered all over the ground. Snow blew into the building where the roof was torn off, and the pile of snow quickly grew larger.
“Bitherby?” she asked the men standing in the darkness.
“Yes,” the headmaster said quietly.
Beside him the stable master stood with his arms crossed, his jaw tight and angry. Annie had never met him; he was hired after she graduated. With a scowl he pointed a thick finger in her direction. “This is your fault.”
“I apologize Annie. This is Mr. Jacobi our stable master. Jacobi, this is Annie Pearce, a former student of Windmere.” The headmaster offered a wane, tired smile.
“No, he’s right, this is my fault. I’m sorry. I promise I will fix this mess. Unfortunately, I don’t have time. I need to get Bitherby out of here. He’s not safe.”
“Annie, what happened?” Headmaster Turtledove’s soft kind voice was filled with worry.
She explained her visitors and what they had done to her and her house. The headmaster contemplated her situation.
“Bitherby. Come out. Miss Annie is here to see you.” His voice remained calm and gentle, even as the stable master glared at the both of them.
Hay rustled along the back wall, and the pile shook and shuddered with the fearful elf who was hiding inside.
“Bitherby, please come out. I need to talk to you.” Annie turned to the headmaster. “I’m really sorry about him.”
Headmaster Turtledove smirked. “I’m not crazy about the damage but we’ll manage. Bitherby come out now,” he commanded.
The hay continued to shake as little hands pulled up. Bitherby climbed above the pile. The tiny elf slipped on the smooth, loose stalks and slid to the dirt floor. Seeing the three humans waiting for him, he looked down at his brown pants and batted away the dust and dirt.
“How did you cause the roof to come off?” Annie asked.
Bitherby looked at his tiny hands, the greenish gray skin that hung from each finger, from his palm, from the back of his hand. “I scared, ma’am. Thought I heard the ma—mast—master outside.”
“You’re safe Bitherby. Demons can’t enter the school grounds,” the headmaster assured him. “I’m going to step outside and let you talk,” he said and exited the building. Mr. Jacobi not as pleasant, glowered at Annie as he followed.
The elf shook when she sat beside him, nestling herself on an intact bale of hay. Bitherby fidgeted and backed away, falling against the hay and sitting roughly in the scratchy straw.
“Even though demons can’t get into the school grounds, I’m worried about damage to the school and the students and teachers. We need to leave.”
“You said I be safe.” As the elf shook, so did the entire bale.
“We’ll be going to the safest place I know. They won’t come for us there.”
Bitherby shook his head and jumped from the bale. “You already say that. Look.” He pointed to the mess. She glanced around the stable and shook her head. There wasn’t time to deal with it.
“You created this. Where we go next—trust me, they won’t get to you.”
The door groaned, she pulled up her hands facing the intruder, but it was only the headmaster. He closed the door and joined them near the hay.
“Where will you go?” Headmaster Turtledove asked. For a moment he had apparently forgotten he stood under the hole in the ceiling. Snow covered his bare head and the shoulders of his Hawaiian shirt. He walked farther into the building and brushed himself off.
“Plausible deniability.”
The headmaster chuckled softly. “That’s an interesting place. You should be safe there. But you’ll be safer here, if you st
ay.”
With all of the protections spells around the property and throughout the building, Annie knew Windmere was safe. But the reason she didn’t head to any other safe house was the same reason she was leaving the school with the elf. Gladden or the Fraternitatem wouldn’t go to the prison. No one would consider breaking in there.
“I can’t stay here. Not in the middle of the school year. With all the students around.” Suddenly she was aware how eerily quiet it was, as if even the creatures in the forest had gone into hiding.
“No one can get in. We have procedures for this,” the headmaster argued. His anxiety was clear on his face and in his voice.
Annie didn’t want to put him or the students in danger. “Really? Where will you go?”
The unnerving quiet was replaced by scratching and knocking.
“Where’s the stable master?”
“That’s a good question,” Headmaster Turtledove said. He glanced around the destroyed barn. Voices squabbled beyond the doors.
“I don’t think he left,” Annie said.
“It’s time to get you out of here.” Headmaster Turtledove led them across the barn just as a heavy jinx pounded the side of the structure. Pieces of rotted wood rained down on them.
“What the hell!” Annie pulled Bitherby from the falling debris. The building was hit again, and the precarious roof shook and rumbled.
Headmaster Turtledove motioned them to walk against the far wall. He crouched low and peered outside. “I can’t tell how many of them are out there, but sparks are flying from just inside the forest.”
Boom!
Like a bomb, a hole was blown through the south wall, tossing Annie across the floor with the elf still in her arms. His small body landed on her as her head hit the winter-hardened dirt.
The front wall was burst apart by the hex. Dust and debris cascaded on them. Headmaster Turtledove crawled to the wall and touched the weathered wood. White light sailed around the perimeter—a protection spell. A white aura hung over them, shimmering in the darkness.
Spells hit the protection cover and bounced away, vibrating and softly shaking the building. Headmaster Turtledove lunged for Annie and assisted her to a seated position. She touched the back of her head where a large bump already grew.
Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Page 49
