Lucinda wondered if the café was supposed to belong to Marcy and her stepmother finagled control of it. What business was it of hers, anyway? She wasn’t a resident of Nevermore. And two hours in a place didn’t make her an expert on it, or the people who lived there. Still. She couldn’t dismiss that someone had used Marcy’s face as a punching bag.
“Who hit you?” Lucinda asked again.
“Doesn’t matter.” Marcy’s expression turned mulish. “It won’t happen again, anyway. I’m leaving. Mexico will be different. It’s safe there.”
“Depends on your definition of safe,” offered Lucinda.
“Why are you going there?” asked Marcy, her tone defensive.
“To escape my ex-lover.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lower lip. “He’s a magical, too?”
“House of Ravens. A real asshole.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” Lucinda turned to look out the passenger’s-side window. “When I get in trouble, I go big. All the way.”
Both women said nothing else, lost in their own thoughts. The buzzing noise of the car engine and the rain plinking against the windows filled up the silence. It seemed like the road stretched into infinity, an effect only reinforced by the overcast sky—and it was already dusk. Since there were no lights on this road, only the yellow glare of the VW’s headlights broke through the encroaching black.
Lucinda felt unnerved. The storm coupled with the increasing darkness, not to mention the lonely road and her distressed companion, made Lucinda feel like she was trapped in a horror movie. In a scene right before the monster lunged, or the car crashed, or the—
Shut it! Nothing bad will happen, she thought sternly.
“Highway’s just a few more miles,” said Marcy. She flashed an uneasy smile. “It can get really creepy around here, especially at night.”
Lucinda felt the car lurch as it accelerated. She grimaced. “Maybe going faster is a bad idea.”
“We gotta make the highway before the sun sets.”
“Why?”
“Bad things happen. That’s the truth of it, everywhere. Bad things always hide in the dark.” She sucked in a breath. “Anyway. Even though this is all farmland, we’re still technically in Nevermore.” Marcy had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “The boundary ends at the highway. Once we’re on it, we’ll be safe.”
Lucinda turned in her seat and stared at Marcy. The green lights from the dashboard highlighted the girl’s pale face and worried expression. Foreboding crept up Lucinda’s spine like a wave of tiny spiders. “Safe from what?”
“Shit!” Marcy slammed on the brakes. The car skidded on the slick road, fishtailing.
Lucinda was thrown forward, the seat belt locking so hard it knocked the breath from her, and then she was thrust back, her skull bouncing off the headrest. Little white stars danced before her eyes, and her chest throbbed with pain.
The car stopped at an angle on the wrong side of the road, the headlights revealing a barbed wire fence.
Marcy had whacked her head on the steering wheel, as evidenced by the wound across her forehead. She was still conscious, though, and her terror so sharp, Lucinda felt cut by it.
“Did you see him? Right there? Goddess help us!” Marcy jammed in the clutch and shifted into first gear, but the car wouldn’t start. The key simply clicked. “Shit! No, no, no!”
“Calm down.” Lucinda unhooked her seat belt. “What happened? Who did you see?” She grabbed a fast-food napkin from the center console and tried to dab away the blood trickling down Marcy’s temple.
“Stop it!” screamed Marcy. She knocked away Lucinda’s hand. “The highway’s less than a mile. Can you magic the engine?”
Lucinda shook her head. Her reserves were too low to attempt it. Machinery didn’t appreciate magic, and required the kind of finesse she wasn’t capable of on her best day.
“We’ll have to run.” Marcy took off her seat belt and grabbed the handle of the door.
“Wait a minute.” Lucinda grabbed Marcy’s arm and stalled her. “Tell me what’s going on. Who’s after us?”
“Please, Lucinda. Please. Just run. I’ll explain everything when we’re safe.”
Lucinda looked out the window, into the darkness, and couldn’t discern anyone or anything out there. Her shields were up, but she’d still be able to detect any magicals.
But not mundanes.
What had Marcy seen that had freaked her out? Who had scared her so badly she’d nearly run off the road?
“Let’s go,” said Lucinda. “I’ll follow you.”
“Run as fast as you can,” said Marcy, offering a trembling smile. “Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Follow the road straight to the highway.”
“Okay.”
They exited the car, and Marcy took off like a shot. Lucinda followed, keeping her gaze on the flashes of yellow dress within the darkness. She was tired, so tired, and her legs protested. Her lungs hurt, too, no doubt still recovering from the way she’d been slammed around the car. The gods-be-damned rain wasn’t helping matters much, either. Water splashed her eyes, got into her mouth, smacked against her bruised body.
Her legs hurt, her lungs burned, her vision faltered.
“Almost there!” yelled Marcy. The words seemed far away, and the flashes of yellow were getting fewer and fewer.
Lucy was slowing down too much.
The will was there, but not the physical capability. She didn’t even have enough in her to call up magic to push away the rain. Her aquamancy was a minor power, anyway. Even at full capacity, she couldn’t control the freaking weather.
Lucinda was at a jog now, her legs threatening to give out any second. Just keep going, Luce. Get to safety, then rest.
That seemed to be her life motto these days.
Marcy’s scream split through the night, the rain, the very heart of Lucinda.
The extra boost of fear-laced adrenaline gave her the push she needed to pick up the pace. “Marcy!”
The girl’s screams raked her like poisoned claws. Oh, Goddess! What was happening? Where was she? “I’m coming!” she yelled. “Marcy!”
Up ahead, Lucinda could see the lights of the highway, and yards away the exit ramp. Safety was close. She just had to get Marcy, and they would make it.
Then she saw the girl.
And the man crouching over her.
Marcy knelt on the ground, her hands above her face, her screams raspy and tear-filled. “No. Please!” she blubbered. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
The huge man wore a black robe that shielded his face, but not his massive hands. He had the sulfur stink of dark magic, but there was something odd about it, like he was wearing it, not issuing it.
One meaty fist delivered a blow to Marcy’s stomach, and she fell over, skidding down the gravel.
“Stop!” Lucinda cried out. “Stop it!”
The robed figure didn’t even look back at her. Either he didn’t hear her or he didn’t consider her much of a threat. Marcy was trying to crawl away, but the brute grabbed her legs, and turned her, reaching for the front of her dress.
Lucinda skidded to a stop, and tried to gather some water magic, which wasn’t working because her vision was graying, and her body ached so badly, she couldn’t think straight. “Stop hurting her!”
The wind tossed away her words. Lucinda decided she couldn’t wait to see if her aquamancy would work. She ran and jumped on the man’s back, hitting him with her fists. “Leave her alone!”
She might as well have been an ant trying to stop a giant.
He delivered a nasty blow to Marcy’s battered face. A sickening crunch echoed, and her head snapped back. The girl went suddenly, terribly still.
“Noooo!” She pummeled the attacker, but he merely dropped Marcy, then reached behind, grasped Lucinda by the robe, and tossed her onto the road.
Terror and grief and anger twisted inside her. Worse, though, was the relief. He’s going to kill me, she thou
ght, and it’ll all be over. Finally.
To her shock, he turned away, leaning over Marcy, his hands reaching toward the girl’s clothing. Lucinda’s mind flipped back to another man, another woman, another tragedy. She no longer saw the attacker hovering over Marcy, but Bernard. He, too, had been leaning over a girl, a beautiful innocent who’d been sacrificed to Bernard’s lusts. His hands were bloody; sweat dripped from his brow, his eyes filled with cold contempt. “You think you saved her?”
Lucinda snapped back to the present. She gathered as much power as she could, directed it toward the rain, then focused on the bastard who thought he was going to put his dirty hands on that brave girl. She whispered, “Boil.”
Every drop that landed on him was so hot, his skin hissed. The robe couldn’t protect him from the sheets of hot water. It soaked through, ravaging his skin. He cried out, and stumbled away.
She kept the spell on him, forcing him across the road.
He roared in pain, and satisfaction curled through her. It was wrong to take pleasure in another’s torment, but she couldn’t feel sorry. Not for him.
Lucinda felt a shift in the atmosphere, a tingle of magic, and then the whoosh of a portal opening. She didn’t bother to watch him leave. Instead, she released the magic, and crawled to Marcy.
The rain sluiced away the blood from the girl’s face. In fact, it seemed as though the storm was moving on, the fierceness of the rain giving way to a soft patter.
She swept the strands of hair away from Marcy’s face. Her eyelids flickered, and then opened.
“Oh, my God!” Lucinda’s heart gave a jolt. Her new friend was alive. Hope flared. “I’ll get you some help. Just don’t . . . ” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “It’ll be okay.”
Marcy coughed, and blood dribbled from her mouth. “Pockets.”
For a moment, Lucinda couldn’t comprehend what she meant, and then realized she was talking about the apron on the dress. She dug through the pockets, pulling out pads, pencils, napkins, and a red silk pouch.
“Take. Hide. Important.”
“You weren’t just leaving town, were you?”
“Trying to . . . protect . . . Nevermore.” Her eyes were dilating, her ragged breathing slowing. “You. Go.”
“Marcy.” Lucinda couldn’t let her die. She was too young to be so scared, so abused, so at the mercy of the world. “You deserve better.”
The girl’s gaze went wide, her breath leaving in one final, soft hush. Her body went limp, and Lucinda thought, No, not again. She tucked the red bag into the front pocket of her jeans; then she knelt before Marcy, closed her eyes, and began to weave the golden magic of her thaumaturgy.
The old Ford hurtled down the dark road as Gray followed the sparkling green line created by his tracking spell. The rain had stopped, which made following the magic a helluva lot easier. It would lead him straight to Lucy. This time, he’d make sure she got something to eat, that she had a chance to rest, and then . . . then he’d offer her sanctuary. He couldn’t give her his personal protection, not that of a husband, but at least she’d have some safety so long as she stayed within the borders of Nevermore.
What the hell!?
He stomped his brakes. He threw the truck into reverse and backed up. He jumped out and examined Marcy’s abandoned car, which was parked diagonally on the wrong side of the road. The headlights were on, both doors were open, and the tracking spell glittered in the passenger seat. Lucy had been in the VW, too.
Why was Marcy’s car here? Where had the women gone?
He returned to the truck, a knot of foreboding in his stomach. The green line stretched into the dark, heading toward the highway. Whatever had happened, the ladies had obviously believed they were safer on foot. Or maybe they’d hit something or the storm had made the car stall.
But why would they go toward the highway instead of back to town?
In the distance, he saw a circular blast of shimmering gold. The magic emanating from it was so strong, it made his shields buckle. The tracking spell ended at that huge orb of light. He gripped the steering wheel, the accelerator pushed down all the way, and within moments, he was there.
He stopped the truck on the shoulder, throwing it into park, and jumped out without turning off the engine.
“Lucy!” He was forced to stop a couple feet away. He tried to take in everything all at once. Marcy was crumpled on the ground, her eyes wide and unseeing, her skin tinged gray.
He felt the blood drain out of his face.
Marcy was dead.
Lucy knelt beside her, radiating that gold light. Her hands were moving like a weaver’s, and she was muttering incoherently.
Her eyes were completely white, and focused on the body of Marcy.
Shock reverberated through him and locked him into place.
Gray had never seen a thaumaturge in action. But . . . something wasn’t right. Lucy was so pale that he could see the delicate spiderweb of blue veins under her skin. Sweat poured off her. Every so often, her body would jerk, as if getting an electric shock. Her hands were bloody, too, but he didn’t know if that was from touching Marcy’s battered form, or from an injury of her own.
The magic wasn’t working. Whatever she was trying to do for Marcy, it was too late.
“Lucy.” He stepped closer. “You have to stop. She’s gone.”
“No!” Her white gaze turned toward him. He was horrified to see the blood seeping from the corners of her eyes and trickling from her ears. Her voice had a metallic ring. “I can save her. I have to save her.”
“What are you doing to yourself?” He crouched next to her and reached out to touch her. Her flesh was so hot, it burned his fingertips. He yanked his hand back.
She refocused on Marcy, and the light around her flared. She cried out, but she put her hands above the girl’s limp form. “Live,” she begged. “Live!”
Blisters started to form on her reddened skin. Her body jerked as if continuously being electrocuted, but she stayed upright. She wept tears of blood, and her nose began to bleed, too.
“Stop it, Lucinda!” He grabbed her arms, his flesh sizzling on hers, and shook her. “You’re killing yourself.”
“So what?” she sobbed. But the light around her flickered, and her skin cooled by a few degrees.
“Lucy.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly, ignoring the sting of her magic. Goddess, she was powerful. “Baby, stop. Just stop.”
She was crying, but he could feel her acquiescence. The light flickered and dimmed, and then it was gone. The night closed in around them, and Gray had to blink away the dots dancing in front of his eyes. The heat dissipated, too, steaming away as though water had been thrown over coals. He held on to Lucy tightly, even though he felt as though he were hugging a porcupine, until he was sure she’d released all her magic. Eventually, the burning sensations faded, and she wilted into his embrace.
She shuddered, weeping, and he leaned back just enough to see her face. Her eyes had returned to normal, and thank the Goddess, it seemed as though she’d stopped bleeding. The streaks of red on her face and neck looked like warrior’s paint. “Are you okay?”
She smiled grimly. “I will be in three days.”
“What?” He looked at her, frowning.
“I used my gift,” she said. “Now I have to pay the price.”
“Price? Lucy, what are you—”
She seized in his arms, and screamed.
Chapter 4
Gray felt the stiffness of Lucy’s muscles, the tremors of pain worming through her. She pushed herself out of his arms and rolled to her knees, leaning over to vomit in the grass.
He reached for her, but she fell to the ground, racked by another seizure.
Then Gray understood.
He was witnessing Bernard Franco’s curse. No, he’d been witnessing it. All the damage Lucy had caused to herself using her power was also because of Franco. He’d never seen magic turn on its master like that. He’d thought Franco was a worth
less bastard before, but he hadn’t realized what a sadistic fuck he really was. He knelt down next to Lucy, who quivered on the ground, moaning. He grasped her shoulders, and she screeched as if he’d poured acid on her.
Gods-be-damned! He immediately let go, and she rolled away, curling into a ball.
“What can I do, Lucy?”
She didn’t answer.
Marcy had been a virtual stranger, and Lucy had tried to save her anyway, even knowing how high the cost would be. He felt sick to his soul.
Staying as close as possible to Lucy without touching her, he looked around for a conduit for a communication spell. A cell phone would’ve been a damned sight more convenient, but there were no cell towers around—most companies avoided towns with too much magic. What was the point? Magic and technology couldn’t be friends, although plenty of magicals and mundanes were trying to figure out ways to bond them.
To communicate with the sheriff, he needed aqueous material, and spied a puddle close by. He didn’t want to leave Lucy, but it wasn’t like he was doing her much good. He’d never felt so helpless before. . . . Okay, not true. Nothing would ever make him feel more helpless than waking up chained to a stone slab with his wife pressing a knife to his chest.
But this was damned close.
He wanted to touch Lucy, to console her, but it would be worse for her if he did. Franco had covered all the angles with his curse, bringing Lucy not only physical torment but apparently the inability to accept any gestures meant to comfort or allay her pain.
Gray stood up, strode to the puddle, and then knelt next to it. He gathered magic, created the communication spell quickly, and sent it toward the water. The muddy liquid accepted the red sparkles, absorbing the purpose of the magic, and within moments, he saw Taylor Mooreland’s face peering at him. Gray spotted a coffee cup and spoon off to the side and realized the spell had found the sheriff doing dishes in his kitchen.
“What’s wrong, Gray?”
“Marcy’s dead,” he said. “And Lucy . . . Lucinda Rackmore is injured.”
“Where are you?” Taylor’s expression was all business. Only his eyes revealed the ghosts of his concern.
Never Again Page 7
