Taking a deep breath, I try again. Carefully, I touch the very edge of the curse. I don’t push against it. Instead, I attempt to taste it, to understand it.
The first thing I get from it is that it’s pure evil. No shocker there. But there’s more to it. It’s feeding on the air as if it needs oxygen to live. It’s the search for more oxygen that drives it forward. I can’t tell what went into twisting it, but oxygen is definitely its fuel. Without it, the curse will fizzle and die. So, what I need to do is get rid of all the oxygen in the room and we’ll be fine. Except for the pesky asphyxia we would all suffer. I sigh. That’s not the answer.
Thinking back to my science lessons with dad, I get an idea. North Carolina is a humid state. Grandpa has central air, but a house this big will still have a lot of moisture in the air. Turning to Grandpa, I say, “Close the vents in here.”
“Shouldn’t you be trying to get us out of here instead of shutting us in with this thing?” he demands.
I am out of patience and almost out of time. “Just. Do. It.”
Something on my face quells any more arguments from him. He moves dangerously close to the blackness filling the room and pushes down a small lever to close the vent. He then quickly moves across the room to close the other one. “Done,” he says.
“Nixie, I need you to hold on tight,” I say to the light on the wall.
“Who the hell is Nixie?” Grandpa asks. I don’t bother to answer.
I close my eyes again and use my magic to search for the humidity in the room. I picture the water molecules in my mind and imagine binding them together. I gather the moist air until I have enough to create a small wall, which I begin to spin. As the molecules swirl, they become hungry, searching for more moisture to feed on to keep it going. Just like a tornado. Also like a tornado, it starts to pull in anything in its path. Papers, cups, and everything else small is sucked into it. The others have moved to the far corner of the room and are clinging to each other for fear of being pulled in as well.
Slowly, I move the tornado to the line of black smoke coming into the room. I feel it attempt to resist the pull, to go around it, but it gets sucked in anyway. As the curse is pulled toward the center of the funnel, it finds a cache of oxygen just waiting to be fed upon. Tornadoes don’t create vacuums. The eye of the tornado is composed of the same air as outside of the tornado, meaning it can fuel the curse. The curse gives up its resistance and soon all of it is in the whirling storm I’ve created. Once the curse has been completely absorbed by the spinning, wet molecules, its entirety moves to the center where the air is richer in oxygen. I’ve trapped it. Sort of.
Chapter 21
“I need something to put it in,” I say over the noise of the tornado. I duck, pulling Adriel and Tana down with me as glass from the window splinters and comes flying towards us. The tornado is raging now and it won’t be long until it’s too big to control.
“What do you suggest?” Sylar asks. “My purse?”
I wonder if I could ram the tornado down her throat. “This is not the time to be a bitch. Is there anything close by that has an airtight seal?” I know I’m asking a lot because the door is still blocked.
“How big does it have to be?” Glinda asks.
Good question. How much mass does a curse have? “The biggest thing you can find.”
The Witch moves to a cabinet near the window. She takes out an old fashioned, silver coffee urn. “Can you melt the silver lid and spout to create an airtight seal?” she asks me.
I nod. “I think so.” That will be the easy part. The tricky part is going to be getting the tornado into the teapot. I need to make the tornado a lot smaller.
“That was my great grandmother’s urn,” my grandfather huffs. Everyone in the room gives him an incredulous look. His lips flatten into a thin line but he doesn’t say any more about using the urn.
Concentrating on the tornado again, I press in on it with my magic making it skinnier. I have to move slowly, not wanting the curse to escape. After a moment, I switch to pressing it down, making it shorter. I continue to do this until it’s a more manageable size. Now, I pull it closer to me and I hold my hand out for the coffee urn. Glinda hands it over and then scoots to the far end of the room with the others.
I set it on the table. As the tornado nears it, the coffee urn begins to tremble. It’s not going to stay put so I can just plop the storm into it. I need it be held down. The problem is, if anyone holds it down with their hands, they will be too close to the curse. They could easily be affected by it.
Reading my thoughts, Kegan places Alita’s still unconscious body in a chair. Glinda, who I’m starting to like, moves to her side to make sure Alita doesn’t slide out of it. Kegan moves towards the coffee urn.
“No,” I tell him. “Alita would kill me if anything happens to you.”
“If I don’t help you, we could all be killed. She’d be even more upset about that.” He has a point. “I’m going to try using my magic to hold the urn steady. Will your magic attack mine when it gets close?”
My magic has such a lousy reputation. I give him the best answer I can. “I don’t think so.” I get an irritated look from him for the uncertainty in my voice, but he moves forward anyway.
I feel his magic pour out of him and travel to the urn. Kegan’s magic isn’t as strong as Kallen’s, but it’s strong. He wraps it around the base of the silver urn and anchors it to the table. He is able to hold it still as I move the now tiny tornado closer inch by slow, painful inch. It gets a little shaky when I have the tornado next to it, but he doesn’t lose his hold.
Now, how do I get it in there? Reading my mind again, Kegan lets some of his magic branch off. It swirls to the top of the urn and I feel him suck the air out of like he’s drinking from a straw. I am impressed as hell. I didn’t know he could do things like this. What he has done is create a temporary vacuum, one that will pull the tornado and the curse inside of it. All I need to do now is position the curse filled tornado over the urn. I need to hurry because Kegan isn’t going to be able to keep the urn air free for very long.
Faster than I was moving it before, I position the tornado where it needs to be. We all watch as the humid, curse filled air is sucked inside. It happens so fast, my brain freezes for a second and I’m not prepared for the next step.
Good thing Adriel is. She rushes to the urn and places the lid back on it. “Seal it now!”
Shaking my head to clear my senses, I concentrate on the silver urn and use my magic to heat the silver until it grows pliable, almost melting. I need to be careful that I don’t melt the whole thing away. When I’m done and the silver begins to cool, an airtight seal is created at the top of the urn. Now I focus on the spout. I use more magic here because I need to melt the silver until it folds together. I take a deep, much needed, breath when that too is airtight. Providing there aren’t any more holes in the urn, the curse cannot escape. When it runs out of oxygen in there, it should die. I say a silent thanks to my great great grandmother for buying the durable urn.
“Nixie, you still with us?”
“Barely,” she says from the far wall.
Searching the room with his eyes, Grandpa asks, “Who said that?” I decide that’s on a need to know basis and he doesn’t need to know.
“What the hell is going on in here?” I move my eyes to the door where Mohana is open mouthed and Kallen has a death stare going as he takes in the destruction in the room. He’s focusing that stare on the Witches. “Did they attack you?”
Still catching up on the breaths I didn’t take while I was moving the curse, I manage to say, “No, someone else attacked all of us. It’s no longer a case of who wants me dead, it’s who wants everyone in this house dead.”
Kallen frowns. “How do you know it was not one of them?” Them being the Witches, of course.
“Because they wouldn’t perform a breathless curse and then remain where it was going to attack.” I give Mohana a pointed look. “I suppose someon
e could find a way to get out of the room beforehand, though.” She had volunteered to go with Kallen. Was it to get out of here so she could let the curse free? She takes a step back, ready to flee if she must. She seems more scared than guilty.
Kallen shakes his head. “I know what you are thinking and it was not her. She has not used dark magic while with me.”
There’s something strange in his voice. He said she didn’t use dark magic. He didn’t say she used no magic. I will be asking him about that later.
Coming into the room, Kallen asks, “Is everyone okay?” His eyes dart to those who came with us, stopping at Alita’s still unconscious form.
Kegan answers his question. “Other than Alita passing out from being so close to dark magic, we are.”
To me, Kallen says, “You really believe the curse was meant for the Witches, too?”
“There was no way to escape without making things worse,” Adriel says. “If we had broken the window to try to flee, we would have made the curse stronger.” She figured out it was based on the element of air, as well.
I scan the room, looking at the faces that had been full of fear moments ago. Most of them are sporting angry looks now. “Do any of you know who could have done this? Any suspicions at all?”
Gunnar’s teeth are almost melded together as he says, “No.” He’s not being terse with me, he’s angry at whoever did this.
“How do you suggest we go about locating the guilty party?” I ask him.
He looks at Kallen. “You said you could sense someone’s magical residue. What about the curse?”
I answer for him. “It was too faint to tell.”
Kallen’s brows draw together. “A curse so strong did not have a discernible magical signature?”
Kegan shrugs. “No.”
“It is true,” Tana says and Adriel nods in agreement.
“How could that happen?” I ask them.
“If the curse was twisted inside of a bottle, that would lessen the signature and also make it possible for someone else to release it,” Tana explains.
“Someone non-magical?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes.”
Our list of suspects has just grown exponentially. Turning to my grandfather, I ask, “Have you had any disgruntled employees or pissed off any other Humans?”
He shakes his head. “No. As far as I know, the staff is happy here. As for Humans, I don’t do much business with them. The only Human on staff is a driver, and he is married to a Witch. He would not want to see us dead.”
He must mean the driver we had earlier. “What about his wife, is she ambitious?”
“Yes, I am but I am not suicidal. Nor do I believe my husband wants to kill me.” This comes from Glinda.
With no delicacy whatsoever, I say, “Your husband works here?”
Glinda nods, not at all uncomfortable with her husband’s choice of jobs. A small smile touches her lips. “He refused to live here without earning his keep.” She’s proud of him for that and she seems very much in love. I doubt her husband would try to kill a woman who adores him so. He also didn’t seem like the type to commit multiple homicides.
In her grizzly voice, Sylar says, “What are we going to do? We can’t go to bed for fear another curse will be let loose.”
“I will encase the house in a circle. If anything else does occur, we will know the guilty party is within these walls,” Kallen says.
Sylar snorts. I hope I don’t sound like that when I snort. I like to think my snorts are cute and that they don’t sound like someone trying to suck a pig up their nose. “It is not possible to create a circle that big.”
I shake my head. “What part of him being one of the most powerful Fairies alive today did you not get?” The house isn’t as big as Isla’s. He should be able to do it. I hope.
Mohana and Divina look at Kallen with more interest. Gorgeous and powerful must appeal to them. Beren clears his throat and gives Divina a dirty look. I’ll have to thank him later for sparing me the trouble. Divina blushes and looks away but Mohana keeps ogling Kallen. Yeah, she was up to no good while they were gone.
Sylar is still not convinced. “What about when he’s sleeping, the circle will come right down. Or does he plan to stay up all night?”
I point to Kallen. “You know, he’s standing right there. Why don’t you ask him?”
Uncomfortable to be addressing a Fairy, she reluctantly turns to him. “Well?” she says, not repeating her question.
His words even, Kallen says, “Fairies are able to hold circles while sleeping.”
Still not convinced, Sylar says, “Why should we believe you?” Oh. My. God. I’m going to find out who is trying to kill the rest of us and tell him he can still kill her if he wants before I take action against him.
Adriel has lost her patience with Sylar as well. “You are more than welcome to stay up all night to guard the house. I am going to put my trust in Kallen and get some sleep. We can start looking for whoever is doing these things in the morning.” Aww, she trusts Kallen. That’s sweet.
“Sylar,” Grandpa says, bringing her attention to him. “Let it go. The boy knows what he’s talking about.” Boy? And since when did he start trusting Kallen?
“The Angel is correct, we are all too wired to do anything tonight,” Gunnar says. “Let’s try to get some sleep and reconvene in the morning bright and early.” I guess he trusts Kallen as well. Maybe a death threat is going to bring us together like one big, happy family. Right. To Aiden, Gunnar says, “You take the first shift in the security office. Wake me in four hours and I’ll relieve you.” Aiden nods and strides out of the room, not looking at anyone. Is he discovering he was wrong about us and doesn’t want to admit it? Maybe.
“Call one of your people in,” Sylar says to Gunnar. “I want someone standing guard outside my room.”
“That will not be necessary,” Grandpa tells her. “Gunnar, go get some rest before you have to relieve Aiden.” Wow. Grandpa said no to a member of his Witan. That doesn’t happen very often.
“What if the culprit is still in the house?” Sylar demands, not liking the fact he spoke against her.
Grandpa sighs as if one more word dropping from her mouth will mortally wound him. “Then Aiden should see him or her on one of the monitors.”
Uh oh. He must have forgotten our dinner conversation. Guilt swings my eyes to Kallen. He presses his lips together and gives me a slight nod. I feel him pulling magic and sending it outward, fixing the surveillance cameras. All except the one in our room, I hope.
“I am going to get Alita out of here,” Kegan says. He lifts her from the chair and holds her tight against his chest.
“Good night,” I say, “and thanks for your help.”
With a tired smile, he says, “All I did was hold an urn. You did all the heavy work.”
“Modesty doesn’t suit you,” I tease. I get a bigger smile before he leaves with Alita.
“I must say, time with you is always interesting,” Adriel says. “I believe I will get some sleep before the next catastrophe hits.”
“May I escort you to your room?” Grandpa says to Tana. “This evening has tired you. It would be no trouble.”
I stand in front of Kallen so he doesn’t go over and punch my grandfather in the face. “We’ll make sure she gets to bed okay. Come on, Tana.” I hold my hand out to her. She gives Grandpa a kind look before joining Kallen and me. She doesn’t take my outstretched hand so I let it drop to my side. We’re back to taking baby steps, I guess.
“Bright and early,” Grandpa says as we walk out the door. I don’t turn back, but I’m positive there’s a disappointed look on his face.
Chapter 22
After stopping at Tana’s room briefly, Kallen and I make our way to ours. Inside, we both flop down on the bed. “This day has gone better than expected,” Kallen says.
No way. “What did you imagine that would be worse than two murder attempts in less than an hour?”
“
Murder attempts from the time we stepped foot into this realm until the time you got so angry, you took all their magic away.” I know he’s teasing me, but that is a little too close to the conversation I had with Adriel for me to be amused.
Saving me from responding, Nixie’s voice floats through the door. “Xandra, can I come in?”
“Sure,” I say over Kallen’s groan. I nudge him with my elbow. “Be nice.”
A bouncing light appears on the far wall. “Your grandfather is one of the most boring people on the face of this earth,” she says.
I chuckle. “Does that mean he’s not planning my death?”
“If he is, he’s doing a good job of not acting like it,” she says. “Other than lusting after Tana, he hasn’t done much of anything today except sit behind his desk and stare at nothing. He could probably use some antidepressants.”
Blood of the Exiled (Witch Fairy Book 10) Page 16
