Spell of Vanishing

by Anna Abner

  He caught her eye. “I don’t expect you to help me, but I need Hugh for this.”

  “No.” She rounded the table and grabbed for the paper, but she missed and tumbled against his chest. Instead of backing away, she cleaved to him. “It’s a trick. They’re trying to hurt you from afar. Don’t fall for it.”

  “It’s okay.” He gripped her shoulders, his thumbs massaging the tense muscles underneath. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “You know the spell?” Talia asked, anger in her voice. “You know exactly what will happen?”

  Rather than tell her the truth, that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure, he dipped his head, bringing their mouths centimeters apart. Couser wasn’t in control. Cole was. And the need to taste her was overwhelming.

  He breathed her in, giving her a second to realize what he was doing and back out.

  Except Talia didn’t back out.

  The last time they were within kissing range resurfaced in his mind, and the awful confusion afterwards. He’d hurt her, and disappointed himself with his behavior.

  There, in her eyes, he recognized her recalling the same event.

  “I was afraid it wasn’t me,” he said softly. “I was afraid it was Couser taking advantage of you. There was so much power and energy, and I didn’t know where I ended and he began.”

  “You didn’t want to be with me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “What?” he exclaimed, and then laughed. “Ah, honey, you’re all I think about. And now that I’ve felt you in my arms, I never want you to leave them.”

  “Why?” she pressed. “Why would you take the best thing that’s happened to me in months and turn it into something cheap?”

  “I thought it was him,” he said, stroking her spine through her thin shirt. “I thought he’d hurt you. I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

  “You didn’t hurt me.” She lifted on tiptoe, her breasts rubbing against his ribs. “And I don’t believe it was him. I looked into your eyes, and I knew it was you.” She lowered herself to her normal height, giving him a moment to clear his head.

  Because there was more she needed to hear. He owed her the full explanation. “I usually feel his influence during spells, but in the nightmare, he took over my body. I watched helplessly as I murdered people I love with my bare hands.”

  The worst part was believing it was real. When they’d cast together, it had felt so much like the nightmare spell, he’d lost his grip on reality.

  “Our combined magic muddied my brain,” he continued. “I thought he might have taken over again, but he hasn’t.” Cole pressed his lips to the tip of her nose, and then to the sprinkling of freckles on her cheek. “I feel desire every time I look at you. Mine, not his.”

  “Are you yourself right now?” Her eyes twinkled with an unspoken invitation.

  In answer, he kissed her sweetly, softly, just a press of lips against lips.

  “You listen to me, Cole Burkov,” Talia whispered. “I know what I said, but dead bodies are piling up. So, I’ve decided. I’m not going anywhere until the wraith is dead. You don’t need to mention any nonsense again about me leaving, you hear me?”

  His anxieties eased like knotted muscles unwinding in a hot bath. “Thank you.” He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “I don’t know if I can do this by myself.”

  “Don’t worry.” She stroked his hair and then gave it a playful tug. “You won’t have to.”

  His hands slid down to cup her rear end, pulling her flush to his hips, bending her over backward. But with her hands curling under and around his arms, she melded into him. Cole kissed her, and a groan of pleasure broke from his throat at the perfect, poignant rush of pleasure.

  She nibbled at his lower lip and then followed the slope of his jaw with her kisses. “Don’t cast the spell,” she pleaded.

  It was one of the only things she could have said to make him pull away.

  “I have to.” Chilly air rushed to fill the space between them. “If I don’t stop her, what do I have left? Do I spend my life hiding behind a barrier spell? No,” he stressed. “I can’t do that. I want to run The Repository, and read comic books, and talk to other people who read comics.” His thumbs stilled. “I want to take you out, for real, and not be invisible. Not worry about who’s watching us.”

  He didn’t give her any further opportunity to argue, but rummaged in the cupboards for a can of spray paint and marched outside.

  It was dark, but Cole knew how to draw a spell circle with his eyes closed. A circle large enough to kneel in with spell marks at compass points.

  He left the fourth position empty for the moment.

  “I need Hugh,” he reminded Talia, sensing her behind him. “Do you mind?”

  “I do not do your bidding, Burkov,” Hugh announced angrily, popping into being beside her. “I am not your errand boy.”

  “It’s okay,” Talia said, sounding anything but confident. “Help him.”

  The spirit didn’t say anything else, but the ghost’s power sizzled under his skin like an electrical current. Uncomfortable, but familiar.

  “We could do the spell together,” she offered. “And you won’t have to cut yourself.”

  He felt the pull of a smile, even as scared as he was because few people in the world gave a crap if he bled for his magic or not. Probably a couple people even thought it was cool. But Talia actually cared, and he liked it.

  “Thanks for the offer,” he said, remembering the wild, overwhelming hormones that had swirled between them the last time they’d cast together. He wasn’t sure he could keep a level head amid so much sexual awareness. “But I’ll do this one solo.”

  Cole sliced a new tally mark on his left wrist, and as his blood met the cool evening air a jolt passed through him, multiplying the effects of Hugh’s power. He knelt in his circle, drew the White Wraith’s spell mark, and spoke the Latin word he’d been given.

  The reaction was swift and startling. With a crackle, flames burst into the air.

  As he fell back from the sudden blast of heat, Talia leapt into his circle, casting a shield spell over both of them.

  “Did you just mom arm me?” He chuckled, rising behind her.

  “You bet I did.” She didn’t sound amused. “You almost caught fire.”

  Cole put even more distance between himself and the flames, gaining perspective on the entire scene.

  “It’s a message,” he marveled. “She’s not trying to kill me. She’s inviting me over. Look.”

  Talia didn’t lower the shield an inch. “You were right all along,” she grumbled.

  Fiery letters spelled out an address in the air. 5 Ocean View Drive E.I.

  “Let’s map it.” Cole rushed inside and opened his laptop. “Emerald Isle is about forty-five minutes from here,” he announced.

  “Slow down,” she said, appearing in the doorway carrying his old first aid kit. “You’re scaring me. You can’t mean to rush over there tonight?”

  “Yeah.” Cole closed the laptop and situated himself across from her. “The sooner we finish this the better.”

  “Let me see your cut.”

  With an alcohol wipe, she cleaned the inside of his wrist, washing away blood and dirt.

  “Don’t you think she’s expecting you?” Talia countered. “She’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Yeah, she will.” He bobbed his head. “But she’ll be waiting all night. All tomorrow. And if I don’t show up, then she’ll hurt someone else. I just buried a body, Talia.” His voice broke. “I can’t bury anymore.”

  Her fingers were gentle on his flesh, smoothing the edges of a bandage over his newest slashes. “Okay, but for once, let’s do the unexpected. Let’s keep her waiting.”

  Maybe she was right. The White Wraith could have an alarm built into her message signaling her when it was cast. She’d be the most prepared for their visit now.

  He sighed. “I suppose.”

  Talia reorganized the first aid kit as if de
laying the inevitable. “It’s your turn to take the bed. I’ll sleep in the foyer.”

  “No.” He swiped the counter, pretending to be interested in its cleanliness when all he could focus on was the taste of her tongue and the feel of her body. “You’re my guest. You’ll sleep in the bed.”

  “I don’t feel right,” she stated in a quiet voice.

  Cole grabbed at the opportunity he sensed hanging there. “We could share it.”

  Talia met his gaze, and he read every ounce of uncertainty in her warm, kind eyes. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

  “I’m not ready,” she finally said. “I’m still a little shaken by what happened, uh, yesterday.” She dropped her gaze. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “Of course.” He tried to act cool, like he wasn’t rejected to his core. “Well, either way, you’re taking the bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” Cole veered out of the kitchen before she read the pain lurking behind his eyes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Monday morning dawned gray and bleak, no trace of sun apart from a depressing brownish glow in the east. Talia lay upon her borrowed mattress for long moments, unwilling to get up and start the third day of her escape from the dark cabal’s influence.

  Somewhere in the house Cole must be awake, or close to it. She regretted not sharing the bed with him the night before, but his rejection—sorry about that—was still too fresh. She couldn’t handle the pain and humiliation if something similar happened again. She hated that, of the two of them, she was the only one enjoying herself.

  She rolled over and reached for her phone. Monday morning. A workday.

  Normally, she would’ve already been awake, showered, and dressed for school. She’d be on her way to work, sipping a thermos of hot, milky coffee, humming along to the radio.

  Not today.

  Talia checked her phone, feeling like she was missing something. Apart from her everyday life, of course.

  And then it hit her. Mom hadn’t called.

  They had a daily routine. Call once early in the morning with any updates on the search for Sylvester. Sometimes a second call followed later in the day if anything important happened, but at least one call every day. Talia turned on her phone and checked the time. Almost seven.

  Her mother hadn’t called.

  She took a chance that Mom had forgotten. Maybe there was more going on than normal. She dialed her mom’s number.

  The phone rang three times and went to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message.

  “Everything okay?” Cole asked, poking his head through the doorway.

  “Sure,” she said, scrambling for a story to cover the painful truth. “I’m going to call in sick for work. Maybe if we get this over with quickly, I won’t lose my job.”

  She couldn’t lose her job. She loved it too much.

  Talia called the main office line, and the secretary answered. “Hi, Tracey,” she greeted, “it’s Talia Jackson. I’m sick as a dog this morning.” She coughed pathetically. “I won’t be in to work.”

  “Oh, boy,” Tracey groaned. “Mrs. Trope is going to go nuts.” Jillian Trope was not only Talia’s friend but also the special education teacher in charge of the class where Talia spent most of her time.

  “She’ll have to go it alone today.” Talia coughed again.

  “Of course. Hope you feel better!”

  “Thanks.” Talia hung up and mustered a half-hearted smile for Cole.

  “With any luck, today will be the only day you have to do that,” he said.

  “I hope you’re right.” She dialed a second number. “One more.” The phone rang twice. “Hey, Jill,” she greeted.

  “Are you on your way?” Jillian asked, sounding distracted. She often arrived at work early to one of the most labor-intensive jobs on campus.

  “I’m taking the day off.” Talia cringed, knowing her friend would be pissed.

  But instead of annoyed, Jillian’s tone became concerned. “Are you okay?” And then her voice lowered. “Did they find Sylvester?”

  “No.” Talia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying outright. “It’s not that. I need a personal day,” she admitted. “I wish I could be there.”

  “Me, too.” A long pause, and then a sigh. “I’m worried about you. Will you call me later so I know you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” And then something else occurred to her. “You know McKenzie, right? Long dark curls? Sophomore? Snotty attitude?”

  “I know her.”

  “She’s been messaging me all weekend,” Talia said. “Can you spare a few minutes today and talk to her? She might just need a friend.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks, Jill, you’re a lifesaver.” She hung up feeling much better. She managed a weak smile for Cole. “All set.”

  He nodded. “Before we go, let’s practice a couple spells. Sound good?”

  “Yeah.” She stood and straightened her pajamas. “Let me shower first.”

  She found him, forty-five minutes later, in Milton’s bedroom, cradling his book of black magic.

  “What should we practice?” she greeted, entering the room.

  For clothes, she’d chosen casual and comfortable over stylish. Faded jeans made soft as silk from years of wear. A short baby tee in neon blue. Sneakers and socks. But they didn’t imbue her with courage. She felt as vulnerable preparing to face the White Wraith as she ever had.

  “You look nice.” His eyes lingered at the slice of waist visible between her jeans and the tee. “How about a silence spell like Harvey used on you?”

  “Sure.” She admired the way Cole always looked great, without even trying. Today he wore a pair of casual corduroy pants and a vintage Avengers T-shirt. “And you look nice, too.”

  He tried to hide a smile as he thumbed through his book. “Stand in the circle. Hugh’s already here, hanging around the balcony and acting too cool to talk to me.”

  She snickered at his assessment. “What’s the Latin?”

  “Confuto,” he said. “You’ll need to focus a lot of power to manifest it.”

  “Okay.” But as much magic as Hugh fed her, she couldn’t cast the spell. Cole remained annoyingly vocal despite her best efforts.

  Over and over.

  And over again.

  Until she was frustrated to the point of screaming.

  “Enough,” Cole said, giving her a tiny, sympathetic smile. “You get the idea.”

  “Yeah,” she grouched. “I know exactly how not to cast the spell. I’m golden.”

  “I hope if you absolutely must cast it, it’ll happen automatically.”

  She wasn’t so sure.

  About her strengths or about Hugh’s commitment to the mission.

  Was Cole right and Hugh was purposefully holding her back? Because the power he’d sent her today was more than he’d ever shared before. Why hadn’t they practiced harder spells? Maybe she could protect herself better against the dark cabal if she knew how to channel more powerful magic.

  Maybe he didn’t want her to fight at all.

  “I need a minute,” she announced, backing out of the room and rushing downstairs. Instead of the front door, though, she opened the back door and took one step onto the rickety porch.

  “I wish you would reconsider your current path, miss,” Hugh said in hushed tones from the shadows. “‘Tis dangerous for you.”

  “I know.” Her entire existence was a minefield. “Just promise me you’ll do whatever Cole asks you to. Promise me you’ll protect him.”

  Hugh scowled, but he nodded assent. “‘Tis not Burkov I am concerned about.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She gazed at the falling down tool shed, and then the cornfields, and finally the gray horizon. “I’ll have you both watching my back.”

  “There you are.”

  Cole’s sudden appearance startled her. She’d been so distracted with macabre thoughts of black magic and hanged men she hadn’t heard him approach.

 
“Should we bring a weapon?”

  She recognized tension in his shuttered expression. He was as scared as she was. He was just too proud to admit it.

  “You’re the best weapon there is,” he said. “Don’t worry. With the two of us casting, we’ll be fine.”

  She stepped in his direction, expecting him to move out of her way so she could enter the house. But he didn’t.

  He gave her a long, searching once over. “I don’t want you doing anything dangerous,” he said. “With my vanishing spell still active, she won’t be able to defend herself against me. So, I’ll handle casting the black magic. You stay low and shield yourself, okay? Don’t worry about protecting me or trying any offensive spells.”

  She could never promise that.

  “Talia, if you got hurt…”

  “I’m a necromancer,” she said with false bravado. “I know how to defend myself.”

  He pulled a face, as if he found her highly amusing.

  “But you can stop her, right?” she asked, unable to find any humor in their situation. “There’s no point in walking into a trap unless you know you can get out.”

  “We’ll get out,” he said. “She’s not invincible. Just intimidating.”

  “You don’t know her,” she reminded him. Of course, she didn’t either, but she’d heard things. Awful, terrifying rumors about the wraith’s cruelty toward her enemies.

  “Let’s go.” The phrase clanged, hanging in the air between them. Finally, he stepped aside and they collected the spell book and their personal things and headed for the foyer.

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  Talia’s stuttered a step, for a moment afraid it was the wraith bringing the fight—literally—to their doorstep.

  “It’s okay,” Cole assured, giving her back a reassuring pat before checking out the front widow. “You’re going to like this.”

  With a big smile and a flourish, he swung open the door to reveal giant cardboard boxes. Dozens of them.

  “Did you order all this?” called a man in a delivery uniform. “Cause there are another three in the back of my truck.”

  “They’re ours,” Talia said, grinning. “Thank you.”

  She started bringing them inside, creating a lopsided battlement in the parlor.