“Know what?”
“Your cousin is a witch.”
7
“You think Liv is a witch?”
Sebastian continues to walk around me, his eyes studying my face, which should be clearly conveying how nuts I think he is. He smiles fully. “You think I’m crazy don’t you?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” I grab a hold of his arms, holding him still. He’s pretty buff under the sleeves and I’m a little tempted to squeeze. I let go. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“That’s what all the girls say.” I roll my eyes and he laughs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll sit. Why don’t you sit with me?” He plops down onto the bed and pats the space beside him. “We’ll talk.”
“Why do you think Liv is a witch?” I ask, still standing. There’s no way I’m sitting down beside him on a bed. A blood stained one at that—even if most of it is mine.
“Do you know what I am?” He cocks his head to the side.
“An annoying asshole with a staring problem.” I cross my arms over my chest and plaster on a big fake smile, filled with as much sarcasm as I can stuff into it.
He stares at me, his face unreadable for half a second before he laughs so hard that at first no sound comes out. Completely overcome, he falls backward against the pillows; arms held over his abdomen as though he’s trying to keep it inside and can’t. His laughter fills the whole room, and it isn’t long before it verges on being infectious. I bite my lip to keep myself from cracking a smile because it’s really not that funny and now is not the time for laughing fits. Still, I bite my bottom lip a little harder.
He wipes the tears from his eyes, his face still lit up with an ear-to-ear grin. “I like you, Indiana Bellamy.”
“Yeah, well, sorry to say it’s not mutual.”
“You’ll come around.”
“I doubt it. Now, are you going to answer my question or what?” I drop my arms to my sides with a huff.
“Are you going to answer mine?” He raises an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his mouth.
“Grr.” I fist my hands at my sides, seriously tempted to have a tantrum. How can one person be so infuriating? I take a deep breath, holding it in my lungs for a few seconds before letting it go. “Look, New Boy.” I stare at him pointedly, hoping he’ll get the message I’m tired of playing games. I mean business. “I don’t know what the hell is going on and you seem to have answers, so...”
“What makes you think I have answers?”
“Because you were there last night and I’m pretty sure you’ve been following me around. I want to know why. I want to know what the hell is going on. All of it.”
He considers me for a moment, the look in his deep blue eyes contemplating what or how much he should tell me. Just when I see a shift in his gaze that suggests he’s ready to talk, Liv opens the door with two big bags of fast food in her hands.
“Breakfast time.” New Boy hops up from the bed and snatches the bags from Liv. He presses his shoulder up against mine. “Also, my name’s Sebastian.” He brings his mouth to my ear. “But if you’re nice, I might let you call me Bas.” With a wink he spins around me and makes his way over to the small dining table. He drops the bags down and fishes around inside. “Take a seat ladies and let’s eat.” His gaze latches onto mine. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Liv pulls out a chair, plopping herself down in it. Sebastian passes out the food: pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns and tall plastic cups filled with orange juice for all. He opens three containers of syrup, pouring them out over his pancakes. Without cutting it, he jabs a plastic fork in, lifting an entire piece, which he then shoves into his mouth. Head down, Liv nibbles on her scrambled eggs like a tiny scared bird. I stand where I am, clenching my teeth. I’m not really in the mood to sit and eat in a crappy motel room with a cousin I’m angry at and a jerk that won’t stop staring. The only thing I want is understandable answers.
Sebastian scoots my chair out from under the table. “Pancakes aren’t as good cold.”
“I’m not hungry.” My stomach picks this exact moment to growl. Stupid stomach.
The corner of his mouth lifts up into a half grin. “Clearly.”
I jerk the chair out a little further, taking a seat with a huff. The smell of breakfast fills my nose, making my mouth salivate. I guess I can eat a few bites.
“So, to get things started,” Sebastian says around a mouthful of eggs, “I’m a chaser, Liv’s a witch, and Indi’s yet to be determined.”
Liv sprays out a mouthful of orange juice onto the floor. She sets her cup down, her hands flat against the tabletop. “You’re a chaser?” Her voice shakes, her eyes open so wide, they’re on the verge of bulging. Her gaze darts to me and then to the door.
“Relax, I’m not going to take you out. I leave the good witches alone.” He takes a swig of his juice like he hadn’t just sort of threatened her in a roundabout way.
“Take her out?” I ask incredulously. I stare at him point blank.
“I chase down supernaturals, or at least the bad ones. Lucky for Liv,” he shoves another bite of pancakes into his mouth, “she’s not a threat.”
I look from him to her. She doesn’t say a thing. “Liv, tell me he’s crazy. You’re not a witch because witches aren’t real. Right?” Although I didn’t think vampires were real either until one tried to rip my throat out.
She hangs her head. “He’s telling the truth. I am a witch. Mom, Dad, and Jack are too.” She avoids my eyes. “So was your mom.”
The only thing I can do is stare at her with my jaw agape. I can’t even form any words.
“You’re a witch too,” Liv adds.
I finally find my voice. “No, I’m not. And this isn’t funny. Why are you saying this?”
She looks up. “Because it’s the truth. You were born a witch, Indi.”
“Not just a witch.” Sebastian takes a break from stuffing his face to study me. “There’s something more to you, I’m just not sure what yet.” His ominous tone sends a shiver down my back. Then he smiles, a look of contemplation, crossing over his features as he leans back in his chair. “Wonder if we’ll trace your family back to the Salem Witch Trials when we do our history report.” I look at him like he’s got horns sprouting out of the middle of his head. Is he being for real right now? He cocks an eyebrow. “What? I’m just saying it would be interesting.” He waves his hands out like he’s shooing me away. “Carry on with your freak out. I’ll be over here enjoying my breakfast when you’re done.”
I throw a few pieces of egg at him. He scoops them up off the table, then drops them into his mouth. Gross. I make a face and turn back to Liv.
“If we’re witches how come I don’t have any powers? And how come I’ve never seen you cast a spell?” I feel so stupid asking these ridiculous questions. Yes, I got up close and personal with a psychopathic vampire last night, but I’m drawing the line here. There is no way I’m a supernatural or whatever in the hell Sebastian said.
“You do, and I cast spells every day,” Liv answers.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Remember yesterday when you asked me if your pillow smelled like smoke?” She picks up a napkin, ripping off tiny pieces.
I nod wondering where she’s going with this. “Yeah, but that was just in my head. When I smelled it again all I could smell was detergent.”
Having already shredded one napkin, she moves on to another. “That’s because I spelled it. It really did smell like smoke and that’s because you had set your room on fire.” She peeks out at me from under the corner of her lashes. “You have nightmares sometimes, especially around your birthday, and you, um… conjure fireballs.”
I scoot my chair back. “You’re insane.” I shift my gaze to Sebastian. “Both of you.”
Liv latches onto my arm to keep me from standing up, which I’m about to do, along with walking out the door. “Just listen, okay. You set your room on fire while you were sleeping. You do it every year
on your birthday. I was supposed to stay awake to keep an eye on you so I could stop you, but I fell asleep. When I woke up you were screaming and the smoke alarm was going off. I rushed into your room and held you down so I could cast a calming spell, a sleeping spell, and a forget me spell so you wouldn’t remember any of it when you woke up. Once you were out, I cast a spell to put out the fire and fix your room, but sometimes remnants get left behind. Like your pillow smelling like smoke.”
I stare at her without saying a word. I do dream about fire sometimes and even more so around my birthday because of how my mom died. But conjuring fireballs and actually setting the house on fire because of my nightmares? Seems a bit far-fetched, especially when you couple it with her ‘casting a spell’ to erase any memory of it ever happening. “A forget me spell? How convenient.”
“Okay how about the fact that my hair always looks perfect in the morning?” She asks. “You think that happens naturally?” Okay, that one I almost kind of believe. “And the tea you drink every morning,” she adds. “It’s a suppression spell. It’s meant to keep you from accessing your powers and to keep you hidden.”
“Hidden from what?” Not that I’m buying into anything she’s saying. My feet are still firmly planted in denial, denial, denial. And they’re going to stay there until my denial becomes unequivocal truth.
“I don’t know. Mom and Dad would never tell Jack or me. They just said we had to keep you safe. That’s all I know.” She reads my face. “You still don’t believe me do you?” Before I can answer she says, “I’ll prove it.”
“Okay.” I lean back in my chair and wait for her grand display of magical abilities. On the other side of the table Sebastian continues to stuff his face like it’s just another normal morning. Then again, he’s just as crazy as Liv is by claiming to be a chaser. Whatever that is. Maybe they’re both on some kind of drug. One that makes you hallucinate you’re living in a fantasy world.
Liv scoops up the torn pieces of napkin from the table into her hands. She hesitates, the look on her face saying she’s about to break a rule, and there will probably be consequences to pay. “Mom and Dad are going to kill me for this. They wanted to be the ones to tell you about who we are.” Bringing her hands up to her mouth, she whispers words too low for me to hear. The pieces of napkin lift from her hands. They spin in a circle like snowflakes caught in the wind.
“You could be using a fan,” I say still holding onto my denial.
“I’m not, but if you need more proof…” she trails off as she whispers under her breath again. The floating pieces of napkins take on a shimmering hue then transform into butterflies.
My chair tips over and I hit the floor, my butt still in the seat.
Liv whispers again and the butterflies turn back into napkin pieces, softly gliding to the table. She looks down at me still sprawled on the floor. “Believe me now?”
My mouth flaps like a fish out of water. “I… I… I…”
Sebastian leans over the table. He turns his head in Liv’s direction. “Did you break her?”
Scrambling out of the chair, I kick him under the table. He yells out an obscenity then sits back down, rubbing his shin. “I’m not broken, I just… need a minute.” Several minutes actually. God, this is insane. Liv is a witch. I… I’m a witch, and this is…
“Do you have any spare clothes?” I ask Sebastian. I pull at my bloodstained shirt. “I desperately need a shower and some time to wrap my head around things.”
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and jump. The back of my leg hits the toilet. Off balance, I nearly fall into the tub. My hand hits the shower wall, saving me from total and utter embarrassment. The last twenty-four hours has been bad enough already, I really don’t want to add calling an ambulance to the list of Let’s Tear Indi’s World Apart because I scared myself with my own reflection and broke an arm falling in the bathroom.
“You okay in there?” Liv asks from outside the door.
“I’m fine.” I push myself back up and face the mirror once again. I’m so not fine. Looking at myself, at all the blood dried on my face, my neck, smeared through my hair, all over my clothes, it makes everything rush back in. Seth’s bipolar personality—kill me one minute, try to save me the next, go back to killing me. Ben sucking out all the blood from Liv’s body, and her letting him because of the rapture. Knowing I would die. Actually dying.
I don’t remember much about the dying part, but I have a feeling when I did my mom was there. Out of everything, knowing I may have seen her one last time hurts the most because I would give anything to see her again. Anything. To touch her, talk to her, tell her how much I love and miss her. To tell her I’m sorry. But if I truly saw her, no matter how brief of a time it was, I don’t remember it now and it’s torture.
I peel off my clothes and throw them in the trash. At least my Chucks are salvageable, so I guess that’s something. I rip off the bandages next, but there’s so much dried blood caked to my skin, I can’t really see the damage. Maybe it’s a good thing. I don’t know if I’m ready to see the wounds.
Stepping into the shower, I let the water beat down onto my back, wishing my bad memories could swirl down the drain with the dirty water. I grab a hold of a bottle of shampoo claiming to smell like a forest and wonder how long Sebastian’s been living alone in a motel room. You don’t have big bottles of shampoo if you’re only here for the night. And you don’t keep the place in a state of mess if you’re here with a parent.
Popping the shampoo cap, I give it a whiff. It does have a woodsy scent. It smells kind of nice, actually. Kind of comforting and more than anything I could use a little comforting right now. Too bad it doesn’t have the power to make me forget. I wash my hair three times to make sure I get all the blood out before I move onto the rest of me. I scrub until it hurts, and the water has run cold before I reluctantly get out. I’d rather stay in here than face a world turned upside down out there. But I can’t, so I wrap a towel around myself and stand in front of the mirror, wiping away the steam with a wad of toilet paper.
My reflection’s not so scary this time… just haunted. I turn my head a little to the side to get a better look at where Seth bit me.
There’s nothing there. Not even a scar.
What the…?
I drop my towel to the floor not even bothering to dry off. I twist around so I can see my back in the mirror. There’s no wound or scar there either. If I were punctured—which I was—then there would have been stitches or something to hold the wound closed. I pick up the trashcan and dig around inside for my bandages. The first one I pick up is from my neck. I toss it back in and pick up the other. There, stuck to the blood are threads for stitches.
How is this possible?
The room spins and I take a seat on the toilet lid to keep from hitting the floor. The trashcan in my hands, however, isn’t so lucky. It slips from my fingers and falls from my lap onto the chipped, green tiles, spilling its contents. I grip the side of the tub, telling myself to calm down. I can’t pass out. Not now. Not when I’m naked in some random guys motel bathroom.
I don’t have a paper bag, so I try using my hands instead to regulate my breathing. Deep breath in through the nose, slow breath out through the mouth. Repeat.
What could this mean? I passed Sebastian’s vampire test, didn’t I? Could there be a delayed reaction? Could I really be a…
No. No, I don’t want to go there. There’s got to be another explanation.
Maybe it’s a witch thing? I haven’t had any tea today so maybe my powers are manifesting? Do witches self heal?
I don’t know. I don’t know anything. And I can’t tell anyone, especially Sebastian. He says he’s a chaser who takes out the bad supernaturals. What if I’m becoming the kind of thing he needs to chase? The kind of thing he needs to take care of?
My stomach takes a violent turn and I drop to the floor, barely lifting the toilet seat in enough time for the bowl to catch my breakfast. I flush the contents a
way, wrap myself back up in my towel, and rinse my mouth out. A tube of toothpaste rests on the back of the sink along with a pink toothbrush I raise an eyebrow at. I didn’t peg Sebastian as a pink toothbrush kind of guy. Black would be more his style. Leaving his toothbrush where it is, I squirt some toothpaste onto my finger and clean my teeth as best as I can.
I go back to staring at my miraculously healed wounds. I’ll just have to pretend they’re still there until I can figure out what to do. Maybe I can ask Liv some vague questions about being a witch and healing without sounding suspicious once we’re home. I search the bathroom for spare bandages and find none. I turn to the door. I’ll have to ask for some.
My feet stay where they are. Never in my life has a door seemed so foreboding. I shake the tension out of my shoulders. I can’t stay in here forever, although the thought of doing just that doesn’t sound all that bad. I force my feet forward and open the door a teeny, tiny crack. “Sebastian? Can you hand me a couple clean bandages please?” The palm of my hand sweats over the doorknob and I quickly wipe it off on my towel while I wait.
“Want me to help you put them on?” Sebastian says, outside the door. For the most part his voice is sincere, so I let the insinuating undertone slide.
“Just hand me the bandages.” I stick my fingers through the crack and once I have them, I slam the door, cutting off whatever he was about to say next. I throw my towel over the edge of the tub and begin placing bandages over my nonexistent wounds.
Once I’m done with that, I slide on the black t-shirt and gray sweatpants Sebastian gave me to wear. They’re too big and I have to pull the drawstring on the pants, tying a knot in it to keep them from falling down. I sit on the toilet to put on the socks. They’re too big too and will probably end up bunching under my toes when I put on my Chucks.
After I’m dressed, I pace the small bathroom until I feel semi-confident to leave its safety. I grip onto the sides of the sink and meet my own eyes in the mirror. I can do this. I can go out there and pretend I haven’t somehow miraculously healed. Neither one of them has to know. Sebastian doesn’t have to know. Liv doesn’t have to know. No one has to know.
Of Blood & Magic: Blood Descent Book 1 Page 8
