The Witch Collector Part II

by Loretta Nyhan

  Thoughtful, I picked up one of the bottles of oil Miro had left behind. “Jasmine,” I said quietly, touching a drop of the oil to my bottom lip. “Bringing hope to hopeless cases.”

  Hope was really all I had.

  Chapter 14

  I couldn’t sit still. My fingers twitched over the keypad on my phone. I wanted to reach into it and grab Brandon by the neck and shout, What do you know? I read his text a second time, and a third, trying to decide if it meant to communicate its simple message or something more.

  Think, think . . .

  But I couldn’t think. My lips were still swollen from the oil, from the kiss. I closed my eyes for a second, reliving its intensity.

  And then I opened them. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t fix my thoughts on Miro. In a few hours I would own a talisman, but I would still need a strategy. I had to plan for every possible scenario when I met Brandon. What news did he have? If he’d found my parents, wouldn’t he tell me? Or had he found Gavin? Had Gavin found him?

  Brandon had said he loved me. My emotions surged and dove, but what did I really feel? What was the transition and what came from my heart?

  All I knew was I wanted to see Miro again—I knew I wanted to kiss him again—but only if everyone I loved was brought to safety, without putting anyone else in unnecessary danger.

  I caught my reflection in the small, oval mirror hanging on the wall. My eyes looked otherworldly, shining with the intensity of a thousand lit candles. The purple smudges underneath them had completely faded, my skin bright, even in the dim light.

  Miro said I was ready. And strangely, I felt ready. My parents needed me to be.

  I picked up the smooth, deep blue stone, soon to guide my very being, and thought about what Shelley said, about her talisman being as natural a part of her as an arm or a leg. The stone settled into the middle of my palm. On closer inspection, it was a blue star sapphire, the inclusions so small the star was almost not noticeable, like a tiny spark in the night sky. It was a unique, semiprecious stone, not overly expensive, but not an obvious choice for a talisman. I smiled, thinking of my mom. It was exactly something she would pick.

  You had better work, I thought, running my finger over its smooth surface. Something about the stone was so familiar. Did my mom have one like it? I stuck my other hand out and balanced the stone on my wrist, watching the star shine in the light from the lamp. Hadn’t I seen a stone like this somewhere else?

  I had. I put the stone back on the dresser and grabbed my backpack from the floor. Inside was the friendship bracelet Sonya had given me for my birthday. I knew the stones on it like I knew my own face, but the change hadn’t registered when I’d hurriedly shoved it in my backpack at the apartment. There, sewn tightly to the braided, gold bracelet, was a new stone. Smooth and blue with a small, white star on its surface. I fastened the bracelet around my wrist, making sure that stone touched my skin.

  The effect was instantaneous. It felt molded to my body, as if it had a heartbeat that matched my own. I felt a sense of calm, a calm I hadn’t felt since I’d left Portland. The immense power I felt standing in the alley with Miro rose again, wildly coursing through my veins, but my will reined it in, setting the pace, guiding its path.

  This had to be my rightful talisman, I thought, staring at the blue stone. Right? Or was it simply a connection to my old life, to Sonya, to my parents?

  I pressed the stone into my wrist and felt the strength within me grow. This was it. It had to be.

  My mother knew we might be running into trouble. She hid it in plain sight, hoping I’d figure it out. I felt a rush of love for her, and one of gratitude for the faith she had in me. The star in the middle of the stone caught the light. How odd, looking at the one thing that would be with me forever.

  I heard the low hum of voices chanting the spell of affirmation, the entrance to every ritual. Soon they would come for me.

  My thoughts raced. With my true talisman around my wrist, there would be no consecration ceremony. And I no longer needed to put my friends in danger. My job was not to wait, as Miro said, but to act. My fate could no longer be decided by others.

  With my talisman, alone no longer meant helpless.

  I gathered my things, stuffing them into my backpack. I extinguished the candles one by one, silently thanking my friends and hoping they’d understand.

  The screen popped easily off the window and I lowered myself onto the awning below, and swung down to the garden.

  I was not the kind of person to walk away without a backward glance. These people meant something to me—even Vadim—and I felt another stab of loss. Candles blazed from every window in Dobra’s apartment, as if calling me back to their warmth. Before the sight brought on a wave of sadness, I turned away, pulling my cell out as I took off down the alley.

  Evie’s apartment. Now.

  I hit send with a renewed sense of purpose. Brandon would not slip away from me again. If he knew where my parents were hidden, I’d find out. If he was responsible for their disappearance, I’d draw blood.

  But if he was truly trying to protect me from his father, if he really did still love me . . .

  I had no idea what I would do.

  Chapter 15

  Evie’s building looked just as it did the night I left: gray brick shadowed with age, front steps crumbling into dust, windows like huge, unblinking eyes. The lights were out in Evie’s apartment, but Sandy’s place was lit like a carnival.

  I pushed through the iron gate. It opened easily; the heavy front door did not. With a deep, cleansing breath, I touched my talisman.

  The magic didn’t come instantly, but when it did it came steadily, unfurling from my body like an invisible hand, turning the lock with one loud thunk. Yes!

  I waited for the aftereffects.

  A sharp pain jabbed at my lungs, sending shock waves through my diaphragm. It was work to get a breath in, but I was able to inhale slowly, and exhale without feeling like shards of glass blew out with the air. The muscles in my arms and legs weakened, and I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing I could conjure one of Shelley’s tisanes.

  “You’ve got to open your eyes,” my father said. “I know you can’t see much, but it’s better than swimming blind.”

  It was overcast, making it difficult to see where the grayish-blue sky met the water. When I turned my back to the shore, I saw nothing to swim to, just the vast emptiness of the ocean.

  “How will I know when to stop and turn around?” I asked.

  “You’ll know,” he said.

  I placed a palm on the water’s surface, as if to test its strength. “You won’t let me drown, right?”

  “No, Breeda,” my dad said, laughing and flicking water at me. “You won’t let you drown.”

  I came back from the vision with a start. My breathing was a little off, but it wasn’t anything like before. The pain was there, but I could manage it, slow its pulsing with concentrated effort. My lungs, so weakened usually, fought the effects of the magic, each breath fighting its way in, building my energy with every inhale. I could clear my mind now that I had control, and I relaxed, letting my body repair the magic’s damage—everything I’d found nearly impossible to do without my talisman. This was so different—I was so different.

  Noiselessly, I passed into the foyer, and barely touched the stairs as I climbed to the second floor. Sandy’s door was ajar, bright light spilling into the hallway. Innate manners stopped me for only a second before I slipped inside her apartment.

  A mix of sounds assaulted my ears—music from a radio, the old-fashioned console television blaring, an alarm clock’s intermittent squawks. “Sandy?” I called out, though I doubted she could hear me. I flicked off the television and pulled the radio’s cord from a wall socket. “Sandy?” I tried again, the word punctuated by the annoying alarm. The sound pounded with the rhythm of my heart as I rounded the hulking television console.

  I saw her feet first. She wore impractical glittery, orange
heels. I stared at them for a second, terrified to look further.

  “She’s dead,” came a voice from the corner of the room.

  Ion. He sat crouched on the floor, hugging his bent knees. His dark eyes, round with horror, didn’t leave Sandy’s body.

  “Are you sure?” I fell to the floor next to her, searching for signs of life. Her sunburst hair lay limp along the sides of her face. Her eyes, once golden, had dimmed to a flat brown, and were fixed, glassy and eerily still, on the ceiling. When I saw there was nothing I could do, I slipped into the bedroom and shut off the alarm.

  “I didn’t do it,” Ion moaned as I returned. “You’ve got to believe me. She was already . . . like that when I found her. I didn’t know what to do!”

  Sandy’s talisman, no longer the sunny orange of cut citrine, had blackened. Her frozen hand clutched at it.

  “She tried to fight,” I said, stifling a sob. “No one could have saved her. Whatever happened happened quickly.” I went to him and took his ice-cold hands in mine. He’d begun to cry, tears running down the slope of his nose.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, coaxing a response.

  “My father called me,” he replied. Even in his shocked state, Ion’s voice held skepticism. “He said to meet him here, that he knew how to start my transition. I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I was desperate, so I snuck out. I came through the alley and the back door was wide open. I thought that was pretty weird, so when I heard all the noise coming from this place, I let myself in and stumbled on . . . her body.”

  I understood why he couldn’t use Sandy’s name. It made everything too real. Ion’s pale skin had turned ghostly white, and his pupils resembled black holes. He was in shock. I drew my phone from my pocket and handed it to him. “Look, you need to get out of here. Go outside and head down Sacramento. Call your mother and tell her what’s going on. If your father is here in the apartment, she’ll want to know.”

  “What about you?” he asked, taking my phone.

  “I know your father better than you do,” I said, trying to appear confident. “I’ll be fine.”

  He never looked convinced, but took off anyway. When I heard the front door close, I stood and took one more look through the apartment. With my trembling hand over my talisman, I checked Sandy’s bedroom again, the bathroom, the kitchen. Nothing.

  Gavin wasn’t there. Either he had already left, or he was in another apartment. I should have brought Evie, I inwardly scolded myself. She wouldn’t mind the danger, and would welcome the chance for a crack at Gavin. I couldn’t second-guess myself, though. If I’d interrupted the consecration ceremony, Miro and Shelley would have wanted to come with as well. I didn’t want them anywhere near Gavin.

  The thought of confronting him scared me, too, but at least I wasn’t walking in defenseless. Not anymore.

  I paused for a moment, listening for footsteps in Evie’s apartment. If Gavin was upstairs, the sudden silence in Sandy’s apartment would tell him she’d had been found. My heart seized in my throat. Where was Brandon?

  There wasn’t time to speculate. I had to make a decision—go up the front stairs, or attempt to climb up to Evie’s balcony. The balcony made the most sense. Streetlights in the alley meant I didn’t have complete darkness to cover me, but it was better than a well-lit hallway. Once on the balcony, I could try to peer through the kitchen window unnoticed.

  Unless I’d already been spotted. But if he had, he probably would have killed me already. He wanted me alive.

  I moved quickly through the apartment, toward the balcony. It was simply constructed, and similar to the one directly above it. If I could manage to scale a wooden post, I could hoist myself up and over.

  I was a country girl. I’d climbed more trees than a monkey. I could do this. On tiptoe, I managed to grab the balcony above and curl my leg over the side, using momentum to flip myself onto the ledge. I grabbed the lattice beams but made the mistake of glancing down. Three floors up, the drop to the backyard was easily thirty feet, and my legs still felt heavy from using magic earlier. The grass below was difficult to see in the diffused light; the yard resembled an open grave.

  Focus. A drop of sweat rolled down my back, bringing me into the moment.

  Slowly, so slowly, I pulled myself onto the balcony, landing hands first. I took a moment to breathe, when Evie’s security light blasted me in the eyes.

  “Be careful, Breeda.”

  I blinked, trying to bring the shadowy figure into view.

  Not that it was necessary. I knew that voice anywhere.

  Chapter 16

  “Brandon?” I pulled myself up to face him.

  He glanced over at me, but his attention was focused on the demon standing in the corner of the balcony. It snarled and hissed, but its limbs were immobilized, wrapped tightly in a live electrical wire, which spat sparks into the air. One side of the demon’s body had burned. Weeping blisters covered the skin showing through the tattered remains of a policeman’s uniform.

  Brandon clutched his talisman. “I need help,” he said. “This magic is weak and I can’t hold it much longer.”

  “Demon,” I said, “it’s me, Breeda.” It didn’t turn at the sound of my voice. Instead, the demon writhed, pushing hard at the loosening wires. Its black eyes never left Brandon.

  Evie said the bewitching would wear off. “You sent him,” I said, my heart heavy in my chest. “It was you.”

  “Help me,” Brandon pleaded, desperate as the demon’s leg broke through the wire. “He’ll destroy me.”

  My magic stirred, but something in Brandon’s expression stopped me before I touched my talisman.

  “Do you have your magic?” Brandon shouted. “Use it! Now!”

  The demon tossed the wire to the floor. It moved swiftly, but Brandon was quicker, grabbing at his talisman with a ferocious determination. The wire snaked around the demon’s ankle and pulled tight, sending the demon crashing onto the wooden floor. Then the wire whipped upward and the demon flipped into the air. Instinctively, I crouched down as the creature careened over my crouching body and tumbled over the side of the balcony. I heard a sickening crunch as its body hit the ground, but I hid my revulsion, focusing instead on Brandon. His talisman, which had once been a brilliant amethyst, was cobbled with thick, black lines.

  “Tell me where they are,” I demanded.

  “Who?” Brandon looked confused. He peered over the side of the balcony at the demon’s body. “I think it’s dead.”

  “My parents,” I said. The words stuck like sand in my throat. “For the love of Isis, where are they?”

  “I don’t know,” he said dully.

  “You don’t know! You expect me to believe that?” I knew I should try to hide my anger, but I couldn’t. “And your father? Where is Gavin?”

  Brandon studied me. His features had become hardened, not like Evie’s, but as if they hadn’t held any true emotion in a long time. “My father’s dead. He died back in Portland.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t mean to.” Brandon paced the balcony. “You knew me. You know who I am. I wouldn’t do it on purpose.”

  I felt sick. “What happened?”

  “My father toyed with Black Magic so much he destroyed his natural gift. He thought Greta might help him. She was unmarked, like us,” he explained coldly. “But a transitioning unmarked has powers even my father couldn’t comprehend.”

  My eyes filled and tears spilled over my cheeks. I didn’t bother to brush them away, and Brandon didn’t seem to notice. “I know she died,” I said. “But how?”

  “Gavin was weak, and he worried my transition might destroy him. He’d figured out a way to siphon part of a transitioning witch’s power—so he practiced on Greta.”

  “And it killed her?”

  Brandon’s eyes took on a desperate quality, and I almost sighed with relief that he could still feel something. “I walked in the room as he was taking her gift,” he said, his voice rising in pitch
, growing hysterical. “Her body twisted with pain. I couldn’t stand watching it. So I reacted, Breeda. Our instincts are so strong, aren’t they? I touched my talisman without thinking and I took it in. It covered my body. It invaded every part of me. Every cell.”

  “The magic?”

  “The Black Magic. Greta was killed instantly; my father, with so little magic left in him, took longer. After Greta’s funeral he came back to Seaside to get me. He was going to use me to convince you to come back to Oregon. But he was weak and collapsed before we left. When he died, I took all of his darkness.”

  “But he was seen! Right here in Chicago.”

  “I was seen,” Brandon said. “The people here haven’t seen my dad in years. I look enough like him from far away.”

  My mind resisted the idea. It couldn’t be Brandon. He loved me. He loved Sonya, our friend. The one who could find me anywhere. “You stole Sonya’s gift, didn’t you? She was a tracker. That’s how you found me.” And you killed her, I thought, fighting the hysteria taking hold within me. Just like Sandy.

  The connection was horrible, but it was there. “So now, when you collect someone’s gift, you kill them.” A chill crawled up my spine. Had he done the same to my parents?

  Brandon stepped to the edge of the balcony. “I can’t live like this. It’s destroying me bit by bit, every time. Do you see this?” He grasped the cord holding his talisman, shoving the stone in my direction. I winced, fearful of what he could do with it.

  “I black out now. I miss hours of my life, and the only reason I don’t mind is because being conscious after is worse than being dead. The Black Magic is eating away at my brain, my memories.” He leaned toward me, and in the smooth lines of his face I saw the Brandon I did know, the first boy to hold my heart. Was he completely gone? “Please,” he begged. “I need your help. Will you do it? You’re the only one who can.”