I could taste pennies and my nails were starting to turn black. If I wasn’t careful, I’d lose them all before this night was over. The electric shock was bad enough, but coupled with my own telekinetic powers, it was doubly painful.
Jackson tsked at me, shaking his head as he watched me climb to my hands and knees. The room spun for a moment, and I had to close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing to get my head under control before I attempted to get to my feet. I could feel my hair lifting around my head as the static electricity danced through it. Whatever or whoever I touched next was going to get a painful jolt.
“We don’t have all night, Ms. Kavanagh,” Jackson said, and I could see him tapping his foot. I really wished I had something to stab that fucking foot with right then. I swallowed against the bile rising in my throat and managed to get to my feet. When the world remained steady, I walked over to the work station I’d set up, snatched the bottle with the poison, and held it up for him to see.
“Here,” I said. My throat was raw enough to make my voice sound unfamiliar even to my ear.
“Wonderful!” He clapped his hands together before coming to the door of my cage. He stuck his arm through the bars, careful not to touch either side, and held his hand out for the bottle.
I stumbled forward and thought about grabbing his arm and pulling him into the bars and frying his ass, but if I did that, I’d be electrocuted too and I wasn’t sure I could take another round without finally hurting something in my brain.
I extended the bottle, stopping just before I placed it in his open palm. “Just one thing,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“This isn’t meant to be taken by Bernadette,” I said. Jackson took his hand back, stepping back from the cage to squint at me.
“How’s that?”
“Well, I mean, you take half of it first,” I said, trying to think of something to get that look off of his face. “Then you give the other half, with three drops of your blood added to it, to whomever you want to bespell.”
“I told you I was tired of blood magic,” Jackson said as he crossed his arms over his chest.
I dropped my hand, holding the bottle tight. “I know, but that’s how all love potions work. You have to add some of your essence to the potion, otherwise it’s just a cherry brandy cocktail.”
I held the bottle up again and lifted my eyebrows, waiting. The way he continued to stare at me, I was surprised that Jackson hadn’t asked me to brew a truth spell first so that he could force anyone to drink it before he asked them questions.
“So I drink half, add my blood to the rest, give it to Bernadette, and she’ll love me again?” Jackson asked.
“If you want to call it that,” I said, unable to help myself. Jackson tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at me, and I heard Ronnie make a noise on the floor. “All I mean is that it will be manufactured, not really true love.” I made air quotes with my fingers. After a moment, Jackson seemed to accept my explanation and held his hand through the bars again. I set the bottle in his hand. He pulled his hand out of the cage and eyed the bottle just as he’d been eyeing me.
“Never seen a love potion that was black before,” he said, tilting the bottle back and forth to catch the light, as if he expected to see something sinister inside the potion.
“Well, this one is,” I said with a one-shoulder shrug, keeping my eyes on him. I didn’t want to do anything that would make him second guess me. I just needed him to take one tiny swallow of the stuff and he’d be down in half a second. If he actually managed to drink half of the potion, his organs would shut down before his heart stopped beating. Right then I didn’t care which outcome happened, so long as he drank some of the damned potion.
Jackson pulled the cork out and took a whiff of the potion, recoiling with a grimace almost immediately. Poisons never smelled pleasant, and this one smelled like black licorice and dirty socks – a combination that only a troll would like.
Jackson set the bottle on the dresser and moved over to Ronnie. He grabbed the back of her chair and hauled her back up. When he snatched the bottle, I flinched, terrified some would spill out and burn his hand and give me away, but miraculously, it didn’t.
“You drink it first,” Jackson said, thrusting the bottle out and holding it in front of Ronnie’s mouth, dangerously close to her lips. I blanched and took a step forward, stopping just short of touching the bars. Ronnie’s eyes were so wide I could see the whites all around. She turned her terrified eyes on me, and I shook my head. No, she couldn’t do this.
“It’s not meant for her,” I said quickly, fighting the urge to reach out for my friend and pull her out of harm’s way.
“I know that, but so long as I make sure not to get her blood into it, then it should be harmless for her to drink some, right?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Ronnie and pressing the bottle closer to her face. Ronnie cringed away from it, pressing her lips into a tight line, but a whimper still managed to escape her.
“Stop!” I screamed, holding my hands up as Jackson started to tip the bottle forward, threatening to spill the toxic liquid on her face if she didn’t open her mouth. Jackson stood up straight and turned to face me. He poured the potion out, spilling it onto the floor in a black, oozing puddle. Stupid, tricky human.
“I thought so,” he said, smiling at me. “Now, make it right. I’m going to go get Bernadette, and we’ll just make this nice and neat.”
Jackson set the bottle on the dresser again and took up his gun, pulling the slide to put a bullet in the chamber. I hated myself for not taking that with me when I had the chance. Jackson pressed the tip of the barrel against Ronnie’s cheek where he’d struck her, making her cry out in pain. I stepped closer to the cage, feeling the electricity humming through the metal, almost as though it was reaching out for the current in my body.
“Any more games, any more bullshit, and you’re going to see what the inside of your friend’s skull looks like,” Jackson said in that same low hiss. He twisted the gun, grinding the metal tip into Ronnie’s swollen cheek. I could see Ronnie gritting her teeth, trying not to give voice to her pain but failing.
“Okay, just stop, damnit,” I begged, hating the sound of my voice, but keeping my eyes on Ronnie as my heart pounded against my ribs.
“Good,” Jackson said, dragging the barrel down Ronnie’s cheek, making her groan in pain. I waved away a wisp, making Jackson turn to look at me, his brows knitted together. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I sighed. Humans couldn’t see wisps unless a wisp was trying to bewitch them, and I just didn’t have it in me to explain it to him right then. Without another look, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him. When we heard the front door slam shut, Ronnie finally gave over to the pain in her face and sobbed openly, her body shaking with her labored breathing. My legs gave out and I fell to my knees, twisting and pulling at my hands, desperate to get to her and get her out.
“The tricky witch isn’t so clever, is she?” Roane asked, and I didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.
“I should’ve just let you rot up here and told your parents to shove their threats up their ass,” I said back, but there wasn’t enough heat to my words. I hated him right then and was happy he was in a cage that he couldn’t even stand in.
“Just make the stupid potion, Mattie,” Ronnie said once she got her tears under control. I nodded. It was one thing to risk my life, but I couldn’t take watching him pick Ronnie apart to get me to cooperate. Who knows, maybe this Bernadette still loved him? The image of her bruised cheek swam into my mind, looking a lot like Ronnie did now, and I knew there was little chance she still loved him, not after being struck by him.
And here I was about to brew a potion to tie her to the man that had beat her. My stomach rolled again, threatening to make me sick right there in the cage as my self-loathing grew exponentially in mere moments. I tried to tell myself I was only doing this to save my friend and hope
d it would be enough to keep my hands from shaking as I poured salt into the copper pot with the remaining poison. I found another, smaller pot in the box and started over, this time without the mistletoe.
“Damn him,” I whispered, blinking away the tears that blurred my vision as I measured the cherry brandy.
***
“What do you think is going to happen after you brew that?” Roane asked. His voice sounded stronger, clearer than it had earlier.
“I imagine the maniac will give it to his ex-wife,” I said, staring into the rose-colored potion, giving it a stir, making sure to use a different spoon than the one I’d used for the poison.
“Right, and then what? You think he’s going to let you go?” Roane pressed, and I suppressed the desire to punch him in his pointy face.
“No, I don’t think that,” I answered.
“Guy, would you just shut up?” Ronnie said in the voice of someone who just wants to go quietly into the void, not listening to some jumped-up fairy prince whining and giving us a hard time.
“Ignore him, Ron,” I said counting the number of stirs, pulling the spoon out of the potion on the thirteenth revolution. I watched as the rose tint faded to the pleasing shade of pink I was waiting for. It was clear as water and smelled of the honey and cherry I’d mixed in. Unafraid to touch this potion, I dipped a clean bottle into the pot, filling it before corking it.
The cloud of pixies started tittering in their cage, their wings buzzing loudly as they started moving around. Tommie turned to face the door of the bedroom, a pinched look on her sweet face. “He’s here,” she whispered.
I understood the pained look on her face when Jackson shouldered the door open and threw Bernadette in, sending her tumbling to the floor. She hit the floor with a sound of pain, and I cringed when she lifted her face. Her lip was split open, there was a trickle of blood on her chin, and the older bruise on her cheek had a cut in the center now, as if she’d been struck again in the same place. Angry electric pulses danced around my hands and I imaged digging my fingers into Jackson’s face, burning out his eyes as he screamed under my grip. Wisps floated in the middle of the room, feeding off of Bernadette’s fear and my anger and Ronnie’s pain.
“Here we are,” Jackson said with a bright smile. His eyes were a little too wide as he pointed the gun at Bernadette, who was struggling to get to her feet. She took in the room around her, the cages, the dying creatures, Ronnie bound to a chair and bleeding, and me, standing there with electricity pulsing through my hands with a steaming pot on a camp stove behind me.
“Jackson, what have you done?” Bernadette breathed, holding her hands to her chest, shaking her head slowly.
“I’ve secured our future, Bernie,” Jackson replied, gesturing to the room at large with his free hand. “See, the fairy has granted me wishes for the lottery and taken care of Derrick for me, and we have that other fairy to grant us even more wishes once she’s older.” He gestured to Tommie as she shrank back in her cage, moving as far away from him as the bars would allow her. “And now I managed to get us a couple of witches to brew any potion we could possibly want! Imagine what we can do with all of this. We’ll never have to worry about money again. We’ll be happy again.”
“Was Derrick the poor bastard we found in the storage unit with her?” Ronnie asked. I didn’t like that she outed us as the ones who called the cops on Jackson, but we were already in cages, so it really didn’t matter.
“Derrick was a bastard,” Jackson said. “You’re right about that.”
“Wait,” I turned to look at Roane through the bars of our cages, “you killed someone for him?” Roane didn’t look at me, didn’t even answer me; he just kept staring at the ceiling.
“No,” Jackson said, “he said fae magic doesn’t work that way.” His voice was high-pitched and mocking, matching the sour face he made. “He granted me a wish to make sure Derrick was in the right place at the right time so I could take care of him.”
“Jackson,” Bernadette choked on his name as a sob escaped her, “how could you?”
“How could I?” Jackson demanded, his voice going dangerously low. “How could you? You are my wife and he was my best friend.”
“Jack,” she said as she shook her head, “we fell in love; we didn’t do it on purpose. And why do you care? Really? You were more concerned with the business and money. You stopped caring about me or Derrick a long time ago.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Jackson said. He touched her face, his fingers light against her swollen cheek, and for one moment, I saw his features soften. But Bernadette still cringed and turned away from him, unable to bear his touch.
Bernadette looked at me, and even through her broken and bruised face, I could see the pity in her eyes. She mouthed her apologies, tears brimming in her eyes. I shook my head. She had nothing to apologize for, but I would, soon enough.
“Jackson, this is wrong,” she said as she turned to face her ex-husband again.
“I thought you might see it that way,” Jackson said. He shook his head and chuckled lightly. He shook the gun at her like she was a child who needed the secrets of the world explained to her. “But Ms. Kavanagh here is going to help you see the light.” Bernadette looked at me again, her brows drawing together before she dropped her eyes to the bottle in my hand. Being human, I didn’t know if she would know what the potion was, but I felt the urge to hide the bottle from her, like some dirty little secret.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Just something to help you see the light,” Jackson said, laying a hand on her shoulder, making Bernadette flinch.
“It’s a love potion,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. Bernadette turned her wide eyes on me and shook her head slowly. Her lower lip trembled as she opened her mouth to protest. I wanted to look away from her fear, but I was the one who had brewed this damn thing. The least I could do was look at her, suffer with her.
“Jackson, no.” Bernadette turned to him again and gripped the front of his shirt with both hands. I could see her knuckles were bloody as well, and her nails were broken. She had fought well, but I imagine when Jackson realized she wasn’t going to come willingly, he’d pulled out the gun and Bernadette had stopped fighting him.
“It’s going to be fine, Bernie,” Jackson spoke softly to her, brushing her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he stared into her face. For a moment, I could see the love he had for his wife, before he had become this crazed thing that had locked me away and started striking women.
Jackson stepped into her space and made her walk backward until she was almost touching my cage. Every nerve in my body tensed at the thought of her accidentally touching the bars and have to watch her convulse as thousands of volts of electricity passed through her body. But he stopped and held his hand out over her shoulder, through the bars. I clutched the bottle to my chest, not wanting to give it to him.
“You have to add your blood to it,” I said, trying to buy myself some time again, but this time, I wasn’t lying.
“I told you no blood magic!” Jackson roared, startling me so much I nearly dropped the bottle. Bernadette jumped, her back brushing against the bars, sending her body into uncontrolled seizures. The scream died on her lips as she lost control of her body. Her hands were still twisted into Jackson’s shirt and she pulled him against her body, sending the current through him. A noise crawled out of his throat before his hands convulsed and he pulled the trigger.
The gunshot was too loud in the confined space, stealing my hearing almost immediately. I felt as though I’d been submerged underwater, a great pressure on my ears. Plaster exploded overhead as the bullet lodged into the wall behind me. I could see Ronnie screaming at me though I couldn’t hear what she was saying. She tried to motion to Jackson with her head and it took me too long to catch up with her, but in the next moment, my mind kicked into gear and I was digging in my bra. I pulled out the tiny vial of poison and rushed forward.
Jackson’s mouth was open in a silent scream as his body continued to dance in a jerking, macabre way, slamming Bernadette into the bars over and over again. I pulled the cork out of the vial and thrust my arm through the bars, over Bernadette’s shoulder. Jackson’s arm touched me, sending the current through my body, but he couldn’t manage to work his fingers to grab ahold of me. The jolt of power threw me back, but not before I tilted my hand and poured the poison into his mouth.
The black liquid splashed against his lips, dotting his chin, burning his skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the room, curling into my nose, and I knew I would never forget that smell. My heart was racing, my pulse thundering in my ears, and I didn’t know if it was the horrifying sight of seeing the white bone of Jackson’s jaw through his skin or the third electrocution. With jittering arms, I called my power to my hands, hearing my father’s soothing voice in my ear, telling me to remain calm as the tiny bolts of lightning danced around my fingers. Stepping forward, I slipped my hands through the bars and touched Bernadette’s back, shocking her as I shoved her forward, away from the bars.
She crumpled to the floor, her arms and legs jerking uncontrollably, and I worried she’d taken too much voltage, but it was Jackson’s screams that drew my attention away. He’d fallen to the ground and was clawing desperately at his face. Blood covered his chin, running down his neck and staining his shirt. His eyes went wide as he clutched at his chest, his heart constricting. His left arm fell, dead at his side. He managed to spare a glance at me before his eyes fell on the still form of his wife.
Tears rolled out of his eyes as his neck gave up the fight of holding up his head. He reached out with his right hand, touching her sandy hair one last time, caressing it between his fingers before his hand went limp, his eyes staring lifelessly at the woman on the floor. The wisps converged upon him.
Chapter 20
I was too shocked to cry. I was too shocked to do anything but sit on the floor and stare at the bodies outside my cage. Ronnie was trying to talk to me, but nothing she was saying registered. I didn’t know what she expected me to do anyway. I mean, I couldn’t get out of the cage, and the only person not tied up was Bernadette and she was unconscious. I just prayed that was the only thing wrong with her.
Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel Page 28
