After the patterns run through my arm, I kick the doors open. Hot, smoky air wafts out, stinging my eyes, the smoke assaulting my lungs. Still, I rush into the castle. The vibrations come over me once more and my oxygen is limited.
“Is anyone in here?” I cough.
There is no one in sight; I struggle to find a path to my room. There isn’t any fire where I am. There’s a bundle of clothes on the floor and I lift up some, only to push over a dead body. I jerk my hands back. It’s hard to breathe; a single tear trickles down my cheek. My vision blurry, I find my way into my room.
“Hello! Is anyone here?”
Not a single sound but the crackling fire flames around the castle’s walls. There’s a black jacket on my bed, so I take off my soaked robe to put it on. Zipping up the zipper and scanning my room for anything else I might need, I walk around the space. I hear a sound coming from outside my room. I step out of my room. Miss Canary is standing still, looking at me; she is hurt and frightened.
“Eliza…” she coughs, “you must know that your father—”
A dagger juts through her back, poking through her stomach.
“Miss Canary!” Tears spring to my eyes, burning down my face. I’m not crying out of sadness; I’m crying out of anger and fear…I have the answers I’ve come for, but I know there’s something missing. Information that’s being held from me, and now Miss Canary cannot tell me. My mother came to Ellevil with my father. They were supposed to get married, but she didn’t proceed with the marriage. Mom was manipulated into thinking everything she was doing was right. I’m not crying for the elf dying on the floor; I’m angry for her and what she’s been through with her corrupt husband Emil and her child Christian. Miss Canary’s lips tremble as she dissolves into light green mist. A boy stands in a throwing stance, glaring at me. His yellow markings burn along with the flames around him. He twirls his weapon around and then sticks it into his pocket, turns around, and runs swiftly through the smoke around us and out of the castle’s entrance.
I chase after him, leaping over the scattered pieces of the castle, running out of the burning building. He morphs into a black cat and darts into the forest.
A shifter.
I follow him, branches scratching my arms as I run after the cat. A vibrant green color is glowing in front of me; it’s the entrance portal. I forgot all about it. The black cat turns back to glare at me with golden eyes, then leaps through the portal, vanishing.
I glance around at my surroundings. What if I can’t get back through the portal? What about Christian and Donovan? This shifter knows something I have to find out. My entire life is a mystery.
I’m tired of the secrets.
I wipe my tears from my face in anger and glare at the portal. I dash for it and jump through its glimmering opening. I am pulled through its watery ripple and fall onto dirt in the middle of a forest. My hair is burning, and my witch arm is vibrating. I’m dizzy and all the bottled up emotions gradually leave me. I search through my pockets to find my broomstick’s cold metal not burning me. I clench my fingers onto it; I look up to see the black cat. He runs through the forest; I follow him swiftly though the leaves and branches. I crash out of the forest in front of a black building with an orange light still on near the entrance.
Witcher’s Place.
The mystic runs onto the street, passing the witch shop. He looks like the cat that attacked Jare. He stops running and looks at me, then dashes down the street. I fix the hood on my jacket over my head and take off behind him. I pick up pace; the moon’s glare shines on my black leather. The pressure of the wind brushes against me as I run from behind the witch shop and onto the sidewalk. The mystic is ahead of me, his paws gliding across the gravel beneath him.
He knows that I am after him.
I stand still, holding out my broomstick; we exchange deathlike stares. His cat eyes flicker up at me. He turns around and makes a run for it, vanishing into the night. I run to where he was, leaning against the rough brick walls. He leaps onto a car and then darts onto a roof, fading away. I sprint across the street, chasing after the cat. Running at this speed is effortless for me.
The cat leaps and dodges the chimneys and brick walls.
On the run, I take out my broomstick and hold it to my side. I press the red button with my thumb, activating it. I think of creating a metal claw for me to fling myself up on the roof. The broomstick vibrates, its brushes spray out, and a long silvery claw slithers out. I pace myself, taking even breaths. I wait for the right moment to throw the claw on the roof.
There’s an empty parking space, the right spot for me to get the right aim.
Now.
Waving the slivery claw around in a circle one time, I flick my wrist and the whip darts out toward the roof. The mystic’s fur rises; he leaps over it. His claws lose their grip and he trips over the roof tiles.
The tiles crumble, and the shifter falls, landing on all four paws.
My feet leave the ground and my body flows along with the wind’s pressure. I land on the roof on my knee, the palm of my hand touching the surface. I retract my silvery claw and extract my witch whip. I press my broom’s button, allowing the spikey blades to spring up. I wave my whip in the sky and chase after the cat. I flick it in the air, aiming for his legs. The whip misses and strikes the surface an inch away from his tail. My hand starts to burn against my broomstick. I know what will eventually happen if I let my emotions overwhelm me; I must stay calm.
I know that the cat is small and he’s determined to get away from me.
I have to stop him.
I shove my emotions back and press my broomstick, turning it into a shimmery lasso. I whip the lasso in a circular pattern and release it, letting it fly toward the shifter. It wraps around him, zapping his skin with purple electricity. He hisses and tumbles along the ground, his body shivering in pain. His black fur begins to shed and skin gradually appears. His tail shrinks and his meow turns into an angry yell.
He rips off my whip and starts to run in his black clothes. I brace myself for the chase, but a dash of a white color jumps off a roof nearby, landing on top of the shifter. Its paws scratch and cling on the black leather. It looks like another cat. It swipes the shifter’s face and blood sprays on the sidewalk. The shifter grunts in pain. The white cat kicks the face of the shifter, forcing him to fall onto the ground and leaping in front of its enemy on its four white paws.
It’s Jared.
Jare hisses at the mystic and then looks up at me on the roof. He has silver lines around his four tiny legs. “Liza, get home, and find your father’s mood ring.”
“Jare?”
“Go…it isn’t safe out here.” He turns around, back to his enemy. The boy transforms back into his mystic form. The two hiss at each other. The shifter breaks off and runs as Jared chases him down the street. An extremely icy sting punches the side of my face and I fall to my side on the roof.
“Let’s play tag!”
Tori is standing on the roof next to mine with her sword, watching me intently.
“I want to be it.”
I press the button on my broomstick and extract my purple blade.
Chapter 22
Sharp icicles snap through the roof’s tiles, aiming for me. Tori’s laughter rings in my ears; she is amused by my scrambling. I dodge behind the nearest chimney wall. My right leg begins to numb; I glance down to see that my leg has been wounded by one of her flying icicles.
Pain surges through my leg and I scream. I am afraid I may fall from the roof’s edge. I step forward, hugging the wall in front of me. I’m reluctant to pull out the sharp dagger stuck in my calf. Another icicle smashes into the corner of the wall, spreading scattered bricks on the ground. Hugging the wall, I brace myself and snatch the icicle out of my leg.
I drop from the pain, my hair falling in front of my face. I glance up and see Tori’s blue markings glowing. With a devilish smile on her face the mermaid skips toward me, grasping my neck. She lifts me u
p in the air and throws me off the roof. Thankfully the height difference from the ground and the roof isn’t too high. My eyes blur at the image above me. She becomes smaller and smaller as I fall down to my certain death. My muscles wake back up; jittery nerves vibrate inside of my skin.
My elf arm is freezing, my witch arm is burning, and the tattoos are glowing. Green and silver mixed together in pitch black. The sensation that flows through my body releases and the wind knocks out of me. I roll my eyes back from the sting I feel as vines and twigs from the ground catch my fall. My body jolts back up toward the roof. The wind forces my eyelids back and dents my cheeks. The vines from around my waist and back release me, snapping themselves back into the earth.
I land on the edge of the roof and snap my neck up to glare at Tori. “Those eyes would truly be a pain to murder.”
“Nice trick back up here.” She grins. “I also have some up my sleeve too.”
“Show me.”
My instinct allows me to know what she is planning to do. I know for a fact that she’s getting ready for another round of her icy darts. Her hands punch the air and wave to me with a trickle of water materializing in the air. The first dart flies toward me in slow motion. I quickly step to the side; the dart trims one of my tresses.
Tori forces another icicle out of her hand. This time I don’t sidestep; I look up at her. I catch the flying dart with my thumb and index finger and drop to my knees as several darts fly toward me. With the freezing dart in my hand, I dodge the others and throw it back at her, where it lands squarely on her chin. She tries to laugh it off as if it is nothing.
“You can’t kill a mermaid if she isn’t in water, you pathetic witch!”
Limping on my injured leg, I need to get to a forest. That’s the only way I will be able to kill this corrupt mystic. My broomstick is no use because it burns my hands when my elf blood takes over me. I can’t focus when fighting this type of mystic.
Liquid slithers in the air in a snake form. It hisses and attempts to bite at me. I try to run, but another water forms snake coils around my legs, causing me to fall. My body crashes against the tiles, shattering them.
Water surrounds me, lifting me back up to my feet.
“I want to see that pretty face when you die.”
The water circles around my neck in increasing speed. It begins to build a bubble around my head. Water flows into my ears, my mouth, and my eyes. My sight becomes blurry, and my legs float from the ground as I drown. I hold my breath as long as I can, my throat burning. I close my eyes, and then I drop.
After I finish coughing, I realize that I am not dead. Tori is on the edge running, running from something. She looks behind, glaring at me in fear. Donovan holds his broomstick to the side of his thigh. He glances at me, his witch markings glowing. The silver beams dance on the tip of my nose.
His thumb clicks his broomstick button and a watery whip slides through the bristles. Tori waves her hands, causing a frost to develop on his shoes, but Donovan does not slip. He takes a salt bottle out from his pocket and throws it toward her back. The bottle breaks, sprinkling the grains all over her skin. I can hear the sizzles from where I lay.
The scent of dead flesh finds its way to me and I cover my nose. Donovan has caught up to Tori; she is running frantically. She trips on the edge of the roof. Her nails dig into the tiles as she hurries herself to get back up. Donovan snaps his whip in the air, coiling it around her ankle. Tori takes one last look at me.
“You’re never going to be one of us.”
Donovan presses his button, allowing the whip to tangle around Tori, covering her mouth. He presses the button one more time, and spikes are released. Tori’s body collapses into a large splash.
Not wanting to wait for my turn to die, I limp to the edge of the roof and climb down as fast as I can.
“Eliza! Where are you running off to?”
I ignore him and eventually hear his footsteps coming down the stairs. Jare told me to get back home, to get my father’s ring. My mother placed it somewhere.
I don’t know where I am. Everything is different.
I have a strange feeling that it is the same night of the art lounge event. The time when I killed my corrupt mother.
“I’m not going to hurt you…” Donovan calls down to me.
I reach the bottom of the stairs, limping to the end of the alley. I reach the street, where cars are passing by on the road. It begins to drizzle; the tires from the passing cars make a soothing sound against the wet road. Donovan jogs behind me; he’s in his black witch outfit.
I know that if I stay here, I will die or be captured like Christian.
“Don’t do it, Eliza.”
“Heeeyahhh!” Turning around abruptly, I make a huge fist with both of my hands and bring it down on Donovan’s chest. He makes not a single sound.
“What was that supposed to be? You’re weak; we need to get you back home.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me next to him.
“Don’t touch me, I’m fine.” I yank my hand out of his grip.
“Eliza, I will explain when I get you somewhere safe. You know it’s not safe to be out this late. It’s corrupt mystic hour.” He reaches for my hand.
“I don’t care what time it is. I said don’t touch me.” I shiver from the cold wind and rain. “I know my way back.” I glance around the city, at the lights in front of me. The traffic lights flick green and the cars continue their travel. The problem is…I guess I really don’t know where I am right now. My mind is everywhere and out of control. My vision is blurry from the rain getting into my eyes, dripping from my eyelashes onto my cheeks.
I’ve had enough of water.
I wait till the roads are clear and step onto the gravel. A car beeps loudly, and Donavan pulls me back. The vehicle drives over a huge puddle and splashes Donovan and me.
I realize we’re in Richmond and on the outskirts is my home where Dawn and I live. I continue to walk ahead now that I’m aware of my location.
“You need me—I need you,” Donovan says.
“Whatever.”
“Are you being serious right now? If I was an evil witch you think I am, don’t you think I would have let that mermaid kill you?” He pauses. “Why would I care about saving you?” His hands grips around my side, pulling me in to him. His icy blue eyes glare down at me. I tilt my face, glancing away.
I’m too weak to fight him. Squirming myself from his grip, I look up at him.
“Yes, not even a thank you. Because honestly, do you deserve it? You betrayed my great-grandmother and work along the sides of Ravamere. Why in the hell would I ever thank you? You’ve killed innocents, turned innocence into corruption, used people.” I stare up at him. “And to think, I was starting to trust you.” I shake my head. “I’m not going to be used.” I limp across the street.
“It wasn’t me. It was my father.”
“Oh it’s not you, it’s me type of thing, huh?” I roll my eyes.
“That made no sense. I’m talking about my father, Alec.”
He grabs my hand and forces me to look at him. His scruff is untamed, his eyes furious. The son of Alec Verel is staring down at me. I feel my eyes numb slightly; our touch burns and the silver markings on our skin glow.
“Listen to me.”
“Make me…” I say through gritted teeth.
“I’m not going to make you do anything. If you don’t listen, then you’ll die.”
“I suppose I’ll die then.”
“You’re not that stupid.”
I want to believe that he isn’t bad. I want to believe his brother Eric, my first love, liked me for me. Obviously none of it was real, and I refuse to be a gullible witch. I saw what the Verel were like back in time when I landed in Vaelle. My brother was held captive, my great-grandmother died in their flames; it was a tragic scene. This guy in front of me is a member of this notorious brotherhood, and he believes everything is okay with it. I look up at him, getting ready to give this witch a piece o
f my mind. I flick my eyes behind him, and in the distance there is a person with pink hair standing by my door.
“Dawn!” I scream and take off limp/running.
Her eyes grew wide as she turns around and sees me. “Eliza? Oh my goodness…Eliza!” She rushes toward me and hugs me. “I can’t believe you’re here; I lost you guys back at the party.”
I blink. “Party?”
How could that be possible?
Then the thought of Ellevil being in another realm soothed my confusion. What felt like days in Ellevil was only a couple of hours back at home. Dawn looks at me and then at Donovan.
“Donovan, Dawn…Dawn, Donovan.”
“I know who he is.” She rolls her eyes.
The fact that he’s a Verel, the group of witches my grimoire has warned me continuously to stay away from, makes me even angrier. If it was my choice I would kill him myself.
Donovan clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts.
“Let’s get out of the rain,” I say, walking to my door. I get the keys from underneath the welcome mat and unlock my house. The three of us venture into the house; it’s dark and quiet. It’s messy and wrecked. The kitchen has broken glass on the floor, the pots that hang above the island table are scattered on the floor. Splashes of blood are splattered on the kitchen walls, three lines indicate a scratch mark.
“Someone’s been here…” I say. “Something, Donovan…Something not human has been here.” My hearts thuds against my chest.
“What d-do you mean, Liza?” Dawn says uncertainly.
She’s unaware that I am half elf. The lights in my house aren’t working. She hasn’t seen my now blonde hair; I have my hood from my jacket covering my strands. However, my witch and elf markings are glowing alongside Donovan’s. Dawn glances at our arms.
“That wasn’t mentioned to me.”
“Yeah…there’s a lot that wasn’t mentioned to me either.” I shoot a glare at Donovan.
Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2) Page 20
