by Claire Marta
“Is that how you’re controlling the Jinn?” Jasmine asked. She gestured at the orb. The sphere was dripping with mystical energy. She could feel it crawling against her already over-sensitized sixth sense. It had the odour of death. Like the choking smell of an open cesspit.
Jasmine pressed a hand to her mouth. No one else seemed to be bothered by the smell. Was she the only one who could smell it? It was sickening. Kaysin had finally let her go. She could feel him standing just behind her. His presence was intense. She was aware of every inch of him, every small movement he made. The bastard had obviously betrayed them.
Yet, she still couldn’t understand her awareness of him. No way could she make a grab for the fire poker, which was lying in the rain covered road. He would be on her in a second if she did. Fuck. This was not good. Jasmine felt the veiled woman’s scrutiny focus on her face. A ghost of a smile touched her painted red lips just beneath the shrouding net. The obscured eyes glinted creepily.
She realised, then, that the stench of death was coming from this woman in crimson. Not the orb. It was over powering. Jasmine pressed her hand over her nose and mouth. She tried not to gag. Her eyes watered. What the fuck was up with the smell?
The head witch laughed. “It was easy enough to discover their weakness. Trap them here, so they can’t get home, and they become our slaves. Without returning to their own dimension, they diminish and die. It has taken me centuries to fashion this orb. It is one of a kind.”
“And of course they will do anything to prevent that,” Melinda continued with a grin. “It fit in with our plans perfectly, didn’t it, Teasag?” She turned excited, trusting eyes to the female towering over her. Teasag’s shrouded, crimson head, bobbed.
They were closing in. The Jinn shambling closer in the zombie like fashion. Any hair on Jasmine’s body that hadn’t risen in dread now did. She felt edgy. Wetting her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, her eyes searched for a weapon.
“I guess I should have expected something like this from a cruel bitch like you,” Twitch muttered, eyeing his sister. He was back on his feet. Dishevelled and mud covered, he stood his ground. The mage was trying to edge closer towards Jasmine. For a moment their eyes locked. She could see the determination burning in his gaze.
One hand was in the velvety pocket of his long coat. Jasmine knew it was where he had slipped his smart phone. Twitch was ready to fight. But what the fuck could she do? She didn’t have magic. How was she supposed to fight back? The most she could do was get herself blown up. Her gaze strayed to the poker by her feet. If she could get her hands on it, she could go down swinging. Maybe she could take out Melinda. That was one-less problem to worry about. Jasmine nibbled on her lower lip. She was going to have to time this right. Kaysin would try to catch her.
“It’s a sacrifice worth making to make Avalon ours,” Teasag replied, dismissively. “Now Melinda, be a good girl and kill the outsider for me. We only need your brother alive and I will have no more strangers on my island.”
Jasmine’s eyes snapped up at the words. Her expression was disbelieving. Seriously, no rambling? They were going to kill her just like that? No long speech about their evil schemes? Fuck.
Swinging around, Melinda’s magic lashed at her like a whip. Jasmine had no time to react. The whole thing happened so quickly. She saw a blue flash right in front of her face. It was like being punched in the head. A sharp shock wave reverberated down her spine. It was so powerful it sent her flying.
Jolts of pure agony seared down her limbs. The breath left her lungs on a long whoosh. She did not even have time to scream. Spells were rolling from Twitch’s lips. Dazedly she caught sight of him thrusting his arms outwards. His magic danced out like forked lightening to clash with his sister’s.
But it was already too late to save her. Jasmine continued to tumble airborne. When she finally hit the ground, hard, she continued to travel out of control. Gravel stones ripped at her clothes and skin. Then nothing was beneath her. Hands flaying, she desperately tried to find something solid.
“Fuuucck,” Jasmine cried out, burying her fingers as deep as they would go into the earth as she dangled precariously from the edge of a cliff.
Melinda’s enchantment was still splintering over her body. She could feel it licking across her skin in tiny, cruel, violent jolts. Everything hurt like hell. Like lead weights, it towed her downwards. Heart thumping crazily behind her rib cage, she glanced down. The stormy black sea waited below.
Her head was buzzing strangely, making her almost light-headed. Adrenaline had kicked in. Blood was being diverted to her muscles, giving her a boost of strength. Lights streaked in different directions across the darkened sky. Magic scorched her senses as it clashed somewhere above her.
Twitch’s magic was familiar. The others she could feel, were not. The witches were weaving their spells. They were also not alone. She could sense at least three Jinn engaged in attacking. Twitch was facing them alone. She did not know how long he could last. Fuck. Somehow she had to get back up there. Her friend couldn’t do this solo.
Jasmine’s grip slipped. The cliff side was crumbling, the surface now unstable because of the rain. Scrambling her feet against the rocks, she tried to find a foot hold. Shoes slipping and sliding it was all too slick and wet. They fell away beneath her feet. She couldn’t find any purchase.
A Jinn’s masked face loomed over her. Lying flat on the ground, his head and shoulders peeped over the cliff edge. Large hands encircled her wrists. Kaysin’s strength almost wrenched her arms from her sockets. Jasmine shrieked in pain. Only a second passed for him to realise something still had her in its grip. The Jinn must have concluded he couldn’t just yank her up without damaging her further. He relaxed his hold. His grasp though felt desperate. As if he was afraid to let her go.
Confused, Jasmine stared up at him. Wait a sec, hadn’t he just betrayed them? The question of Kaysin’s loyalty would have to wait. She was going to have to trust him. She risked a glance below. The inky waves were raging savagely against the cliff base. She was trying not to let panic swallow her. Right now she had to figure out how to save her own ass. Jasmine continued to dangle.
Kaysin peered down at her through the eye holes of his ghastly mask. She knew she had two options. Both sucked. One was to hope Twitch’s force field in her bracelet was working, and chance the sea and rocks. The other choice was getting back up the cliff. That’s if she could shake Melinda’s spell. Jinn and witches would be waiting to blast her from existence.
Jasmine gave a shaky sigh of frustration. She just needed to pick the best option. Either way there was a possibility she could wind up dead. Melinda’s spell coiled tighter round her ankles. The invisible heaviness grew. Jasmine’s arms felt like they were being wrenched from their sockets again. She couldn’t just hang there. Pain was burning through her shoulders. If she was right, the spell wouldn’t dissipate until she hit the water. If she was wrong she would drown.
Her features settled into a look of unwavering determination. “Let go, Kaysin.”
He shook his head. Gold eyes unblinking, his gaze never wavered from her face. His fingers curled more securely around her wrists.
“Kaysin, you have to protect Twitch…please,” Jasmine continued in a quaking voice. She had just built up the courage to do this. The Jinn was just going to have to go along with her plan. She had no other option. Not now.
The enchantment chaining her legs pulled harder. Screwing her face up in pain, she tried not to howl with the agony. Fuck. This was going to rip her in two. Gaze pinning Kaysin, she implored him with her eyes.
“Trust me. Let go.” The words were grunted out between her teeth.
Those golden eyes searched her face. Then she saw resolve. Almost hesitantly, he nodded his masked, covered head and then he let go. Jasmine fell. Wind whistled around her, whipping around her clothes and wet hair. Everything seemed to slow down. Her fingers clawed at the bracelet. The little, blue jewel pressed in. Please work.
The words screamed through her mind.
Jasmine screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the churning sea that she was hurtling towards. Familiar magic raced up her arm, tightening her skin. She gasped, sucking air deeply into her lungs. This was it.
Eric lay numbly. Jasmine had vanished beneath the waves below the cliffs. They swallowed her. He knew that rocks lay there unseen. She would have been smashed as she hit. Was she now dying in the freezing, dark depths? Struggling for air with a broken body? Why had he let her go? What had he done? There was no coming back from something like this. Only death awaited her now, with open arms, if it had not yet claimed her.
Why was she always destined to face it in his presence? Why? Slowly he crawled onto all fours. Mud caked the front of his leather outfit, but he did not notice. All he could do was blink dazedly down at the rain soaked ground. Vaguely, he was aware of Twitch still battling. Spells thickened the air. A blast crater had been left in the smooth concrete road.
The weight in Eric chest was crushing. For a moment he could not find air to breathe. He felt like something momentous had been snuffed out before it could take form. The thought turned his stomach. Taking deep breaths, he wobbly got to his feet. He stood, waiting for her pain to come through their connection. To feel Jasmine’s life drain away. Yet he felt nothing. Eric frowned behind the mask. Why did he feel nothing? Had she died so swiftly? No, it could not be.
He took a step to follow her.
“You Jinn, come.”
Eric hesitated. Dazedly, he raised his head. Twitch’s twin stood close. Too close. The battle was over. The mage lay crumpled in a bloody, muddy heap. Teasag’s crimson, covered form stood over him. Eric could hear the slow beat of his heart. The boy had been rendered unconscious.
The suspicion in Melinda’s eyes was all that was needed to bring him to his senses. He could not afford to blow his cover. More at stake hung in the balance here than the life of one female. No matter how precious she was to him. Even though every part of his being screamed at him to dive into the raging sea and drag her back to him.
Melinda tapped her finger against her lips. “Go pick-up my no good brother. We have plans for him.” Placing a finger on his muddy chest, she swirled patterns up and down. The tingle of her magic left a stinging trail.
Calmness settled over Eric. His cold intelligence was quick to return. Jasmine was not dead. He could not, would not believe such a thing. Her words rang through his head.
Trust.
Jasmine had asked him to trust her and he did. The girl was no fool. He did not believe she would have merrily allowed herself to plummet to her own death. This meant she had a plan in place. No doubt it was unthinkingly reckless.
Eric only hoped it had worked.
The taste of salty water lay thickly on her tongue. Jasmine coughed. Spewing up from her lungs, it went out through her lips and nose. Heaving in air, she lay shivering, uncontrollably. Fuck. She wasn’t dead. The pain should have been the first thing to tell her that. She ached all over. Her forehead was throbbing. Reaching up, her hand came away smeared with blood.
Soft, pliant, silky sand was against her cheek, still moist and cold from the sea. She was lying limply on her side. The gentle soothing lapping of waves was somewhere behind her. A beach. She was lying on a beach. But where?
At least the rest of her seemed to be in one piece. She barely remembered anything after hitting the cold, dark, stormy waters. The waves had raged turbulently and over powering around her. She was shocked she had survived.
She groaned. Maybe she could just lay there for the next couple of hours. Jasmine really did not feel up to moving. A hand touched her head, making her jump with surprise.
“Easy now, sweeting.” A voice crooned softly.
Dazedly, she raised her head. Jasmine recognized the owner. He had bushy, grey eyebrows, a long, grey beard and silvery, long hair. This was the same old man who had brought them across on the boat. Wyllt.
“Fuck.” The word came out hoarsely. Moving her limbs, she assured herself nothing was broken. She seemed to be undamaged. Apart from being half drowned, Twitch’s bracelet had worked a treat, preventing her from being smashed against the rocks. Her shoes were missing and she was soaked to the skin. She shivered.
She could no longer feel the metal around her wrist. She frowned, bewildered. Had she lost it in the sea? It was the only explanation. Jasmine rolled clumsily over, onto her back. Slowly, she looked along the beach. The storm was over. Waves were washing up the debris. Gulls cried overhead. They were circling, searching for any tasty pickings they might find.
Warmth from the sun’s rays caressed her skin. She could feel its kiss against her face. A sigh escaped Jasmine’s lips. For a moment, she enjoyed the sensation. Calming, healing. Opening her eyes, she hadn’t realised she closed, she stared upwards. The sky was a wondrous, cloudless blue. If this was another dimension, why did it feel like earth? The sunlight looked and felt the same.
Wyllt was smiling down at her with a bemused expression. His grey stare held a kind concern. With one hand, he stroked his beard as if he was pondering what to do with her. He was wearing a thick, chocolate brown, medieval-like tunic that fell to his knees. Finely woven embroidery was intertwined over the shoulders and around the square neckline. It looked like an intricate tapestry. Two dragons engaged in battle. One white, the other was red. Beneath that, he had on black, loose trousers. The green, wellington boots he had been wearing before covered his feet to his knees.
“Swimming during a storm? Is that what you main landers normally do for fun?” he asked dryly, with a hint of humour.
“Yeah, we love living dangerously,” Jasmine muttered back. She was trying to convince her body it was probably best to get up. But it wasn’t listening. She remained as limp as a dead fish.
The boat man chuckled. “You look a sorry sight indeed.”
“At least nothing is broken and everything still seems to be attached,” she replied with a tiny smile. Releasing a long sigh, she struggled up onto her elbows. Wyllt helped her to sit up. Jasmine’s muscles protested. She groaned, rolling her eyes shut for a moment.
Fuck, what she would give for a massage right now. She felt like one giant pulsing bruise. Opening her eyes again, she stared out at the sea. Everything was calm. The day was perfect. Almost as if the storm had never been. Her clothes were sodden and plastered to her body. With one hand she flicked short, red, damp hair out of her eyes.
Fragmented thoughts and images passed through her mind. Twitch was in the hands of the witches. Melinda had betrayed them. Carbrey was missing and…Kaysin. The Jinn who made her want to kiss every inch of his leather clad perfection was a mystery. One minute he was helping them the next he wasn’t. What the fuck was all that about? Then another thought hit her.
Panicked, she checked her jeans pocket. Somehow, yet again, the vial Twitch’s mother had given her was in one piece. How it had survived was a miracle. With a shaking hand, she curled her fingers around it for a moment. The cool, firm glass pressed into her palm. No way could she loose this. More than anything now she was going to need it. If the craving for a vampire bite rose she needed it at hand.
Jasmine was still not sure how she felt about it. Glenna had said the pain would be unbearable. Would she get a warning before it came? She had been told it was supposed to get worse the longer she waited. With a grunt she stuffed the vial back in her pocket. She couldn’t think about that now. What she needed were dry clothes.
Wyllt was kneeling beside her patiently. His bushy, grey eyebrows were furrowed. He seemed to understand that she needed to process what was going on in her head. The boatman also didn’t ask about the little bottle. His sharp grey gaze did linger on it thoughtfully.
“I think, I should try and get up now,” Jasmine said quietly clearing her throat.
With Wyllt’s help, she got to her wobbly feet. Her limbs were shaking. All she could do was cling to his firm support like a toddler learning to walk. He didn’t
seem to mind. The boatman’s arm came around her waist. Gently, he nudged her forwards with an encouraging smile. Jasmine leaned into him. They began a sluggish dawdling up the beach.
The sand was warm and soft beneath Jasmine’s bare soles. A few times she curled her toes. She liked the gritty, damp sensation it gave. They left deep marring footprints as she moved.
“I thought it was dark? I remember the storm,” she murmured. There were trees in the distance. The beginning of the forest she had seen from Twitch’s mother’s house. A place her friend said could be dangerous. They seemed to be heading in its direction.
“Aye, that was yesterday afternoon,” Wyllt replied, calmly. The side of his tunic where she was snuggled against him was now soaked and sand covered. He didn’t seem bothered by it. Leisurely, he continued to urge her forwards.
Jasmine regarded him with confusion. “What? That’s not possible. It means I’m missing a shit load of hours. I couldn’t have been in the sea and on the beach all that time. I would have drowned or caught hypothermia.”
An enigmatic grin titled his lips. “Yet here you are all in one piece. Trust me, sweeting, it is early morning of the next day.”
A few times her legs threatened to fail her. Wyllt’s patient, strong arm though, was there to hang onto. Jasmine’s eyes kept straying back along the beach. They were somewhere below the city. The cliffs she has fallen from were far off to her left. The brooding spirals of the building stretched skywards. Somehow they had lost their glimmer and glitter. The rainbow colours had dulled.
“Where are we going?” she asked, realising maybe she shouldn’t be too trusting. For all she knew, he was working with the witches. Why had he just happened to find her on the beach? Perhaps it was too convenient?
“My dwelling is not far,” Wyllt told her with a reassuring tone, sounding almost fatherly. “And we can find you some dry clothes and see to the gash on your forehead, and any other wounds you have sustained.”
