Midnight Falls (Sky Brooks Series Book 3)

by McKenzie Hunter

  As the fighting escalated, Sebastian and Ethan approached the house to retrieve Josh. Winter took pleasure in taking down two more of the hounds. With her sword in hand, she charged one creature, and when it sprang at her, she plunged her weapon into it, yanked it out, then severed the head with one quick strike. She dropped to one knee, spinning around in time to catch the other in the abdomen with an arc swing. Its claws struck her hand, knocking the sword out of reach. Retrieving the dagger from her ankle sheath, she came to her feet in a powerful burst. The animal circled her, baring its dagger-like teeth, lunging to snap at her and then retreating before she could attack. It played this game for some time: lunge and retreat, lunge and retreat. On the final lunge, Winter flipped over it and then embedded her blade into its spine. It immediately collapsed to the ground.

  Fanned out into a V, the witches advanced toward Samuel. The smug arrogance remained as he brought down the field each time, only to have it replaced by another. The final time he brought it down, a fog engulfed him as a silver band formed around his body, binding his arms to his sides. The witches’ bodies quivered as they worked to keep him bound in position. Someone shackled an iridium leg brace around him. He howled like a wounded animal. Was it painful, or was the idea of being magicless as painful as an injury?

  “Let me go,” he demanded.

  Even through his anger, his gaze remained diametric to it, soft and gentle. But I was sure that if released, he would not only hurt them, but he would probably kill them.

  He stared at me, and I started to feel sorry for him. Behind the scruffy beard, just a shade darker than his sandy hair, there was a gentleness to him. Stop it, don't feel sympathy for the devil. But was he the devil? He didn’t seem like the devil; his topaz eyes reflected something different from his actions. Soft and lucid, there was a tacit entreaty for understanding.

  “Do you have the book?” Marcia asked.

  Sparks of anger flared from his once gentle eyes. “We are now enemies,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Now, Samuel, we will have none of that. We are going to go into the house, get Josh, and continue as though none of this ever happened. We play nice from now on. Understand? This is not personal and I don’t want it to be.”

  His gaze didn’t offer any forgiveness as they met hers. Hard, ragged breaths slipped through his tightly clamped teeth.

  The tenor of Marcia’s voice was coercive and genteel. “This was one of the more distasteful dealings I will have to live with. I doubt you will ever understand my position, and I realize that. I don’t want to hurt you, but you will have to let this go. I need more than your word. We will need to perform a pacem fœderis mei to ensure that you will not retaliate against us. We need a binding of peace.”

  He turned away from her, clearly disinterested. Clawing at the shackles was a feckless endeavor, yet he behaved like a trapped animal willing to sever a body part to get out of a trap.

  Marcia pulled out a knife and held it to his throat, pressing hard enough that small trickles of blood ran down his neck. “Do you really want it to end like this? Defeated by Sebastian and his pack because of your tenets? Agree to the pacem fœderis mei or we say our farewells now. Understand, I do not want you dead. I needed to do this for reasons you will one day understand. It is not personal. Do not make it so,” she said softly.

  She lifted the knife slightly until it no longer pressed into his skin, but it remained close enough to cause damage if needed. “Will you agree?” she asked in a grave, thin voice.

  And with great pain he managed a rigid “Yes.”

  Cautiously, they released him from his shackles, and just as I expected him to run away, so did they. They held the cuffs close enough to re-shackle him if necessary. But he stood straight without any inclination that he planned to break his word. The witches whispered several urgent invocations; first blood shed for the bond, and the final step was for Samuel to repeat his part in it. He recited it in a low, detached manner, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. He seemed to have found an interest in me and regarded me for a long time and smiled. Okay, it wasn’t a smile; it was just a slight lift in the frown that had been etched on his face since he had been captured.

  As the witches turned to walk away, he said, “May you receive the true peace that you all deserve.”

  Marcia stopped and turned. “If we find it, at least it will not be at your hands. Now we are bound in peace you can’t hurt us.”

  It was a good thing, because Samuel looked as though peace was the furthest thing from his mind.

  Samuel nodded in my direction, then vanished. I hurried toward the car, following Ethan and Sebastian. Josh’s shirt was stained with blood, a bruise on his cheek, and numerous cuts on his hands. The look on Ethan’s face made it seem as though he was bringing out a mutilated corpse. Sebastian drove, Winter sat in the passenger seat and Ethan and I sat next to Josh in the back. Like Samuel, he kept clawing at the brace on his arm, the scowl growing increasingly intense with each failure. His skin was raw from him trying to slip out of it.

  “Does it hurt?” I finally asked.

  He shook his head, clawing at it more aggressively. “I just don’t like it on,” he said.

  “Josh, stop,” Ethan said. But it had progressed to a desperation at trying to get it off. Ethan exhaled an irritated breath as he watched his brother become overwrought with distress. “Sebastian, will you pull over?” he said.

  Sebastian did and opened the trunk. Ethan took out the tool box and came back. After a few minutes of tinkering with it, the brace slipped off his arm. Josh relaxed back against the seat, calmly rubbing his excoriated skin.

  CHAPTER 16

  Josh hadn’t spoken since Ethan explained the details of getting the witches to assist in retrieving him. Now he stood on the opposite of the room from his brother, his arms folded over his chest in quiet defiance. He refused to accompany Ethan and me back to the witches’ home. And for minutes, they stood in silence looking at each other. They continued to deny they had a telepathic link, but they communicated in silence better than most did with the benefit of words. Josh looked just short of pouting, his lips drawn into a pucker, eyes narrowed, and his nose flared each time he exhaled.

  Ethan shrugged off his annoyance. “Perhaps it is better if you stay here,” he said. Josh simply glowered at Ethan as he guided me toward the door.

  Josh closed his eyes briefly. “I know you didn’t have a lot of choices…I hate I am the cause of this,” he admitted.

  I stopped and went over to him. “If the situation were reversed, what would you have done?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, but I knew the answer. More than anything, I think that the idea that I was in this situation because Samuel had dominated him left a bitter taste in his mouth. The guilt only added to it. Guilt, I was tired of seeing it, feeling it and dealing with it. He took another look in our direction and then frowned. There wasn’t anything Ethan or I could say to relieve the guilt. It was a burden he wasn’t ready to release.

  Bernard, along with what seemed to be his personal bodyguards, looked as though they were as sick of seeing us as we were of them. They led Ethan and me into a different building than earlier: a cement bunker. Bernard instructed us to stay in the long, narrow anteroom. When he exited, the clank of steel locked us in. Ensconced in the small area, a thick bolted door locked us in, while the other door on the opposite end, locked us out. Each breath I took was a little shallower than the one before. My bravado had shed away and I couldn’t put up the facade any longer.

  “Are you afraid?” Ethan asked.

  “No.” I exhaled my lie. Maybe it wasn’t a lie. I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t know what to feel. Fear? I was too numb to interpret fear. Concern? The adrenaline pumped too much for thoughts like that to linger. Anxious? It was probably the closest thing I could think of to describe my feelings. I just wanted this to be over.

  His eyes narrowed, but I doubt he would call me on the fib. Even w
ith enhanced vision, the dimmed lights made it difficult to see Ethan as he rested against the wall. But his eyes stood out, deep blue with hints of gunmetal. The air felt thick, breathing was becoming difficult and each time I considered what was about to happen, my heart thumped too loudly against my rib cage. I was glad it was dim, it made it harder for Ethan to read my face, even though I was sure the poorly hidden camera at the end of the corridor was able to see it just fine.

  Wrapping my arms around my chest, the gentle rocking from heel to toe had a calming effect, and for a moment I closed my eyes and welcomed it. It came from a place of satisfaction, because Josh was alive. I did that and whatever consequence occurred because of it, I found solace in preserving Josh’s life. But Marcia’s words replayed in my head: “It will return to me over her dead body.” My hand ran along the long strap of the bag that held the Aufero close to my hip.

  Each time I looked up, I found Ethan watching me, expressionless. I was sure his mind was fast at work. I started to pace. Nearly fifteen minutes had passed and I was getting anxious. Was this a scare tactic, some weird psychological thing? Because the longer we waited, the more my anxiety increased, converting to fear. It wasn’t until he spoke that I realized Ethan was so close. My natural impulse was to step away, but instead I stood still.

  He asked again, his tone grave. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded.

  “If you want to leave, we will.”

  I shook my head and stepped away, turning my back to him as I returned to pacing the floor. When I turned around, he was leaning against the wall, and his gaze roved slowly over the room, to the dimmed lights, the door in front of us that led to the witches, the exit, and the walls. He paid close attention to the seams of the wall, probably more cameras.

  Marshaling a look of pseudo-bravado that I was sure wasn’t fooling anyone, I said, “I can’t leave.” His relief was apparent as he relaxed further into the wall. I wished I could say it was honor that made me stop, a sense of virtue that wouldn’t let me break the promise I had made to the witches, but it wasn’t. I was bound by the consequences that would accompany the revocation of our agreement.

  He held my gaze for so long that I thought maybe he was trying to entrance me or something, and then he inhaled deeply. It was an odd thing about predators: they were drawn to the alluring fragrance of fear, no matter how they denied it. The primordial part of them held an odd infinity for it. I wasn’t looking forward to when I too would be ruled by the predator that dwelled within. Maybe that is why I fought it so much.

  We continued to wait for nearly twenty more minutes. I hugged the slingback purse with the Aufero close to my chest. Ethan stood behind me. Usually his presence was a little overwhelming and off-putting, but now it was a welcome distraction. Comforting. The gentle beat of his heart against my back beckoned mine to join in unison. My heart easily complied, pacing to something that didn’t make me feel like I was about to go into a cardiac arrest.

  If making us wait this long was a tactic to make me come unhinged, Marcia succeeded, even with Ethan present. I was terrified by the time Bernard stepped in and waved me forward.

  “Ms. Brooks, please follow me back,” he said.

  Ethan followed me, staying extremely close as if he hadn’t heard Bernard ask for me specifically. The candles offset on each side of the dark room provided just enough light to see the six cloaked witches in front of us. Blood was fragrant in the air, along with the smell of salt and sulfur and a strange acidic odor that I couldn’t place. Each one of the witches remained hidden behind the cloak concealing everything, including their faces and hands.

  Decidedly it was for theatrics, and boy did it make a presentation. I would have rather seen Stomp, Cats, Wicked, or even Jersey Boys than this over-the-top production.

  “You are not welcomed,” Marcia said to Ethan.

  He simply smiled, baring his teeth ever so slightly to make his point. “Then I will remain here unwelcomed.” He shrugged.

  Bernard started toward him to escort him out. When he reached for Ethan’s elbow, Ethan said in a deep rumble, “I wouldn’t.”

  Marcia waved Bernard away.

  “Come closer,” Marcia instructed me.

  Her command elicited the opposite effect. I stepped back so far I bumped into Ethan.

  “Now,” she said.

  Taking slow steps toward them, I tried to find some comfort in the fact that there were so many. At least it took more than one witch to conjure a curse; otherwise they could just go around cursing people at a whim. The lizard lying supine, his belly sliced exposing his gut as the witches gently chanted.

  They had started chanting the moment I was escorted in, and they grew louder the closer I stepped. Marcia’s words were more forceful and fervent as she flicked something into the cauldron, causing fire to spring up in bursts.

  I assumed the four in the center were the witches from earlier, but I didn’t know the witch at the end. The hood and dim lighting made it difficult to see their faces, but the one on the far right kept turning from me.

  Marcia, who stood in the middle, threw off her hood, and her shadowed appearance made her seem more frightening than I remembered. Or perhaps it was knowing that she was the one responsible for sentencing me to such a fate.

  Marcia immersed her hands into the depths of the lizard’s belly, covering her hands in blood, then beckoned me closer. I wasn’t sure when it had happened; maybe when they had lit the candles, or surrounded the lizard with salt and sulfur, or sprinkled an odd green concoction in a small cauldron. It wasn’t until I felt Ethan against me that I realized I had wandered back again just inches from the door. I didn’t plan to make a break for it, but apparently, my sympathetic nervous system, which was all about flight or fight, had other thoughts. I was in full-on flight mode.

  “Do you want to leave?” Ethan asked again in a low voice, for my ears only. His arm girded my waist and braced me closer to him.

  Hell yeah! But instead I shook my head because there was no way my lips were going to form the words to say no.

  “Skylar, come closer and give me the Aufero,” Marcia requested firmly. I slipped the bag over my head and took out the Aufero. Had she experienced pleasure greater than this? If she had, you wouldn’t know by the look on her face. An immense joy that one may have only seen on a child’s first Christmas.

  I handed it to her and then she asked for my hand and pulled out the knife. I closed my eyes and waited for the pain of it slicing over my hand. Blood wept from the cut and she held it over the cauldron until she was satisfied with the amount. She tossed me a crumpled handkerchief, which I wrapped around my hand. Perhaps the cloaks served a greater purpose than ceremonial. Maybe they needed anonymity during the curse. Who was this sixth person? It was someone powerful, because after each verse of the chant, they stopped and the unknown person’s hands waved over the lizard then waved in my direction. When the unknown finished the final part of the curse, he crept back into the shadows. The movements were odd: slow and laborious. Eventually he disappeared behind a side door.

  A curse seemed like something bad that would take you to the brinks of torture, usher you to death, and snatch you back before you could enjoy the comfort of peace that only death could bring. But this was far worse. As they chanted, it clenched my heart until it lost its ability to beat, then it twisted at my intestines until I felt like I would soon relieve myself of everything I had eaten that week. Just as I was going to vomit, Marcia instructed me to start walking away. When I was nearly fifty feet away, my body settled and I felt normal, or as normal as one could be, once cursed.

  “See, I gave you a fail-safe. Now you will know when you are too close. It is up to you whether or not you want to preserve your life,” she said with a wide smile, showing perfect pearly teeth that conjured thoughts in my head of many brutal ways I wanted to remove them.

  The last way I considered made me smile, but instead I used it to my advantage. “You are more considerate that I ha
ve given you credit for. Thank you.” That was the appropriate thing to say. There wasn’t any way to nicely say that thoughts of her slow, painful, violent death would comfort me to sleep. But instead, that demure grin stayed fixed on my face, ornamental and necessary.

  I didn’t think I would feel different, but I did. The magic coursed through me differently. It was hard, tumultuous and made me feel jittery like I had taken special liberties with chocolate-covered espresso beans. It didn't feel like Josh’s and I longed for that calming breeze. It didn't even have the erratic dense feeling of dark magic. This felt utterly, devastatingly different. Inside I was electric, but everything around me felt sluggish and diminished, as though I was just waiting in the midst, ready for it to claim me. Was I going to feel like this forever, or was this just an after-effect? There was magic festering in me, but its power dormant. I hated feeling like this.

  Ethan watched me more than the road, and by the time he pulled into my driveway, I was glad to be home, but trying to sleep didn’t appeal to me.

  “How do you feel?” Ethan asked.

  “Fine.” I hadn’t managed to convince myself that I was and definitely didn’t convince him. The magic wore heavy on me: coiled and unable to be released. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to use the magic to erect a protective field. Nothing.

  When I got out of the car so did Ethan. “Come with me,” he said, taking my hand and leading me deep into the coppice behind my house. The thick bosk was muted by the darkness, highlighted minimally by the illumination of the moon.

  “We should go for a run, you will feel better.” He stripped off his clothes without hesitation, as always, very comfortable with his nudity. I wondered if he would be as comfortable if he had a keg instead of a six pack. As he approached, each step caused the muscles of his stomach to tighten. Thick bands of muscles formed along it, and delineated lines ran along his chest and legs. I dropped my gaze once he was in front of me. He waited until I lifted them to meet his. With a reassuring smile, he slipped my shirt off over my head and then knelt down to unbutton my pants and waited until I stepped out of them. When he stood, his hands wrapped around my back to my bra, and with a simple slide of his hand he unclasped it. I grabbed it before it fell to the ground. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”