***
The party was low-key, not much of a party at all, which was fine with me. The boys congregated in the basement, playing pool and listening to music. I tried to hang out with them for a while, but felt too uncomfortable to stay. Mordecai’s presence made me feel slightly ill. Despite Jace and Bryce’s protests, I escaped upstairs. Abe and Jerica snuggled in the living room and watched the New Year’s Eve Special on network television. Scantily clad women huddled in the freezing cold, desperate to have their faces splashed across the TV if only for a second.
I felt weird hanging out with Jerica and Abe. They seemed very subdued. I didn’t want to be a nuisance, so I mumbled something about getting some fresh air and stepped outside. The stray cat Jace had adopted a few weeks ago was sitting in the driveway, meowing piteously. I walked over to him and scooped him up in my arms.
“It’s cold outside, kitty. What are you doing out here?” I murmured and cooed in baby talk as I scratched Whiskers’ snowy white chin. “Let’s go inside.” I made my way back toward the house, and nearly had a stroke when a deep, heavily accented voice came from out of nowhere.
“Poor human.” A tiny orange glow faded in and out, briefly illuminating Mordecai’s dark form.
“You scared the life out of me,” I exclaimed.
“If only it were that easy,” he chuckled. “Bryce’s little brother will never choose you, and if the Alexanders were honest, you would have known that. The male of our species craves the magic of the female—power you do not possess. He will never whisper the Claiming Words in your ear. Perhaps you should run along and find someone of your own kind.” He threw his cigarette on the ground, crushed the butt under his boot, and left without another word.
What Mordecai said was true. I’d always known it in my heart. Rachel and Jace were bound together by more than love. Magic created a bond of its own. Even before Rachel came along, I knew I wasn’t special. I’d never be more than who I was. Maybe Mordecai was right. Maybe I should find others like myself: boring, ordinary, non-magical humans.
There was nothing else to do but go back inside. I sat stiffly at the edge of the loveseat and pretended to enjoy the New Year’s Eve Special while stroking Whiskers’ soft fur absentmindedly. Mordecai’s stinging words reverberated in my ears. Maybe he was right. No one would ever claim me. I would be doomed to spend eternity with only two-dozen cats to keep me company. My destiny as the Crazy Cat Lady beckoned and I felt terribly sorry for myself.
The guys made their way back upstairs right before the countdown to midnight. Jace’s phone rang and he disappeared to talk to Rachel in private. I wondered how soon I could escape the Alexanders’ house and return to my own.
“10…9…8…” The announcer on TV was manic with New Year’s Eve glee. Jerica and Abe rose from the sofa and stretched.
“7…6…5…” At the rustling of a paper bag, I glanced over to see the boys rooting around in the stash of illegal fireworks they’d smuggled in from Alabama. Soon they would step outside to blow things up. Typical men.
“4…3…2…” I wondered who would be driving me home. I was ready to go.
“1…” Loud screams erupted on TV. Abe and Jerica kissed softly, and Abe brushed a tear from his wife’s cheek. I knew it was hard on them to ring in a new year without their oldest son in it. They both went around the room, giving hugs, wishing each person a Happy New Year, before finally saying goodnight and retiring to bed.
Bryce, Mikael, and Mordecai went outside to shoot off fireworks and I was left alone in the living room. I curled up on the sofa, remote control in hand, and decided to wait a few minutes before interrupting Jace for a ride home. The front door opened and then slammed shut. Bryce walked over to me.
“Don’t you want to come outside?” he asked.
It was nice he’d remembered me, even if it took a while to do so. “No. I’m really tired, so I think I’ll wait in here. Thanks, though.” I didn’t try to suppress my massive yawn.
Bryce sat next to me on the sofa. “Well, me and the guys are leaving tomorrow. We thought we’d spend a couple of days in New York before our flight leaves. I probably won’t see you again for a while, so take care.”
“I will. Be careful, Bryce. I’ll miss you,” I said, realizing I meant it.
“I’ll miss you too. Happy New Year, Alisa.” He reached out to give me what I thought would be a brotherly hug. He pulled me close, shocking me with his tenderness. As we disengaged from our embrace, he touched the side of my face with his fingertips. His hand moved to my neck and the calloused skin on his thumb grazed the hollow of my throat. My eyelids fluttered closed as he lowered his lips to mine.
“Goodbye,” he whispered.
My eyes flew open, but he was gone. I glanced at the front door just in time to see it close. I thought for a second that I’d fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing. In all my crazy fantasies, I never imagined my first kiss would come from Bryce. I wasn’t even sure I liked him. Of course, he might not have meant anything by it. There was no way I could convince myself that his kiss was brotherly, but perhaps it was meant in friendship. We were starting to get along better, after all.
As soon as my legs were working properly again, I started down the hallway in search of Jace, ready to go home and give serious thought to what had just happened. I had a feeling my dreams would be filled with Bryce from now on. As I raised my hand to knock on Jace’s door, I realized Bryce was already part of my dreams and had been for some time. He was the one who reached for me in the mists. His face was the one I didn’t recognize. Not until now.
Chapter Sixteen
Rachel
The day after I returned from Atlanta, I stopped by to visit Jace. We stood outside in his driveway for an eternity, just holding each other. A fine, misty rain began to fall, so we went inside.
“Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good trip?” Jerica asked, motioning for us to have a seat.
“We had a great time,” I replied.
“I wanted to have you all to myself,” Jace complained across our link. I ignored him and sat down next to Jerica. Jace rolled his eyes and threw himself into one of the high-backed chairs next to his dad.
I decided to broach the topic of Jeffrey’s tattoo. “Could you have a look at something? I was hoping you could translate it, or at least tell me what language this is.”
Everyone in the room fell silent as Jerica peered at the pictures on my cell phone. “Where did you get this?” Jerica asked, casting a quick glance toward Abe.
“I…I took the picture when my mother and I went to Atlanta. I asked Jeffrey if Daddy ever gave him anything, you know, like my necklace. Before our father died, Jeffrey mentioned the idea of having these words tattooed on his shoulder. Our father told him he should do it.” I summarized the conversation between my brother and me, feeling disloyal when I mentioned Jeffrey’s breakdown. His problems were a closely guarded family secret, but I suspected his fear of being followed had less to do with a mental breakdown, and more to do with Hunters. I thought the information about the break-in was relevant given the fact that his heirloom was stolen under what I believed were suspicious circumstances.
Jerica’s face clouded over in horror as she took another look at the images on my phone. “What is it?” I cried.
“It’s a spell,” Jerica said. “It’s the language of the Fae. I wonder how your father’s people came across such a thing and if he knew what it meant. It’s similar to a suppression spell, like the one in your necklace. Suppression spells are common. I used to sew them into the boys’ clothing to mask their magic when they were younger. But this is different. I’ll have to ask an expert to have a look, but I believe it’s a claiming spell.”
“What’s a claiming spell?” I asked.
Abe took my cell phone from Jerica and said, “There are many types of claiming spells, and not all are bad. Some are used for temporary magic suppression or protection—like the spell in your necklace. Sometimes, a man speaks Claiming Words to
the woman he loves to show his intent to spend the rest of his life with her. Demons use a variation of claiming spells to mark their followers.”
“My brother isn’t a Demon-follower. I don’t understand.”
“Sweetie, we’ll do everything we can to figure this out,” Jerica said.
“If it’s a Demon’s spell, what does that mean? What’s going to happen to Jeffrey?” I asked.
Jerica looked at Abe before answering. “Well, the tattoo makes him invisible to Hunters.”
“Why is that bad, though? If they can’t sense his presence, they can’t hurt him, right?” I asked.
“Hunters can’t sense him, but if a Demon comes in contact with him, he’ll believe Jeffrey is a Shifter—a Demon-follower,” Jerica said.
“How can Demons sense him if Hunters can’t?” Jace asked.
“Hunters have limited magic. Their gifts are strong, but no match for a Demon’s. Jeffrey’s magic is suppressed, but not completely hidden. Jeffrey will never be able to tap into his magic, but a Demon can,” Abe said.
“I think it’s safe to assume the people Jeffrey believed were following him were Hunters,” Jerica said. “They were drawn to Jeffrey’s magic which the spelled stone he carried was not entirely successful in suppressing.”
“How is it that Jeffrey and I have magic to begin with? I don’t understand.”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Jerica said calmly.
“Why would Rachel’s father have told Jeffrey it was a good idea to get that tattoo?” Jace asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“None of it makes sense,” I said. “My father didn’t know anything about magic and spells. And even if he did, he wouldn’t have told Jeffrey to get a tattoo that tied him to a Demon.”
Abe cleared his throat. “Rachel, I hate to compound your unhappiness, but I’ve hit a dead end with the research I’ve been doing in regards to your father’s family history. There’s no record of birth for anyone by the name of Darius Franklin Stevens—at least not on the birth date you provided. I have a reliable guy I sometimes work with who can look into other possibilities. Do you want me to continue my research? It’s up to you.”
“Yes, please. I want to know everything about my father, now more than ever. I can’t believe it. It’s like I didn’t know him at all.” I fought back tears of confusion and rage. How could my father keep so many secrets from his family? Why didn’t my mother find out more about him before marrying him?
Jerica told Abe and Jace to brew some coffee. They left the room. Downtrodden and depressed, I examined my fingernails so I wouldn’t have to look at Jerica. I knew what she was going to say, and I didn’t want to hear it.
“Rachel, it’s time to start training. I think you realize that now. Look at me, honey.” Her voice was soft, but commanding. I looked into her eyes, hoping she didn’t notice my unshed tears. “I know you’re worried about Jeffrey, but you won’t help him by remaining unprotected. I need you to start training for my own selfish reasons. The more vulnerable you are, the more distracted Jace will be. His concern for your safety will leave him open to attack. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for my son.”
Jerica was a truly perceptive woman. She knew I was thinking of giving up on magic altogether. I felt guilty that Jeffrey’s gift was taken from him before he even had a chance to develop it. He was robbed, pure and simple. Robbed of his birthright, his magic, his ability to defend himself.
“Think about it this way,” she continued. “Your gift may someday save your brother. Why deny yourself the chance to develop your skills? Punishing yourself will not release his magic. I’m sure your father had good reasons to do what he did. I’m certain his motive was to protect you both. Do not allow any of this to diminish the love you have for him.”
“I know, it’s just…I’m so angry with him right now. Everything I thought I knew about him was a lie.” I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
“Was your father loving? Was he kind? Did he take good care of his family?” I nodded my head in response to each of Jerica’s questions. “Not everything is about facts and numbers, Rachel. There is truth in love. He was honest about what mattered—his love for his family. Don’t let anything take that away from you.”
“You’re right.”
“Until we can get this all figured out, I’ll increase the number of Watchers, Protectors, and Warriors around the city to enhance your brother’s protection. Jeffrey isn’t alone in this and neither are you.”
“Thank you, Jerica,” I said.
My worry over Jeffrey would be a constant tickle in the back of my mind, probably for the rest of my life. I longed for days past when the only things I had to worry about were grades and college applications. I used to live in a world where magic only existed in my silly little vampire novels. Now magic followed me everywhere, and I couldn’t find safety even in my dreams.
***
I’d been to the castle before, but familiarity did nothing to decrease my sense of fear. Terror kicked in the moment I became aware of my surroundings. Shrouded in near darkness, I looked about the castle and marveled at the Gothic architecture, shivering in response to the desolate evil of the place.
Voices drifted down the far corridor, and I followed the sound against my will. My dream-feet didn’t travel in footsteps, but instead floated along on a conveyor belt of compulsion. I stopped abruptly outside a towering mahogany door and hunkered down in the hollow behind the staircase. A disembodied conversation wafted from behind the slightly opened door.
I didn’t need to listen. I knew the script by heart—the words of a million identical dreams. Each syllable carried the weight of every fear I’d ever held close to my heart, every icy prickle of dread I’d ever felt.
“The truce won’t last, Ancient One, if you continue to interfere in my personal affairs. My vendetta far surpasses any claim you believe you might have,” the Cold One hissed.
A deeper voice replied. “Do not threaten me. I walked this earth for centuries before you were born, and likely I’ll continue long after your body is rotting in the ground under my feet.”
A magnetic pull dragged me from my hiding place behind the stairs. I struggled to resist, fought against the urge to reveal myself. I reached the threshold of the high-ceilinged room and my heartbeat threatened to shatter my ribcage. As the fair-haired man began to turn, I breathed a sigh of relief. This was the point where I woke up. Only, this time, I didn’t. His golden hair glinted in the candlelight and his ice-blue eyes met mine. He was beautifully, terrifyingly inhuman.
“It appears we have a guest. Perhaps we should let her decide whose Mark to bear,” he hissed.
Startled, the dark-haired man turned his head to look at me. His black eyes narrowed and darted toward his adversary. He quickly stepped in front of me to shield me from the other’s view. “There is no choice,” he said, “only prior claim.”
“Jabron had many masters,” the other said. “Until she bears a Mark, she is fair game between us.”
“This is not a game, Nevare. Not to me. I’ll protect her at all costs…and those who guard her,” the Dark One insisted.
“So, you insist upon using those pathetic creatures which make up your army? I don’t care how well you think you’ve trained them, Re’Vel, Hunters…”
“Are none of your concern,” the Dark One finished. “If you choose to encroach upon my territory, those creatures will rip you apart.”
“Hunters are easily destroyed, you fool. Don’t forget, I watched my brother’s army of one-hundred fall to a mere five Warriors,” Nevare said. “They’re mindless…”
“So are you. And remember, those Warriors almost killed you in the desert that day. You nearly met the same fate which took your brother,” Re’Vel said.
“Don’t speak of that. I’ll wipe every Alexander from the face of the earth.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he made this threat. I cowered behind Re’Vel, the lesser of the two evils. “I’m warni
ng you. Your claim does not supersede my own. Should you try to take her and use her for your own purposes, it will start a war the world has never seen.”
“So, you choose to sever our alliance over such a small matter?” Re’Vel asked, his voice calm.
“If it’s so small a matter, why do you fight for her so?” Nevare took another step toward Re’Vel.
“I have my reasons,” the Dark One said, turning to me. He lowered his lips within an inch of my own and whispered, “Sleep, my love.”
I woke up alone in my own bed, my breathing coming in shallow gasps. I lay unmoving until my alarm shrieked a painful “Good Morning.” When the unmistakable rumble of the garbage truck became louder, I jolted from bed, grabbed a book from the bedside table, and ran barefoot down the stairs. I didn’t bother to shut the front door behind me as I sprinted outside. I tossed the book into the trash can at the end of my driveway just as the garbage truck pulled up.
Spellbound (Spellbringers Book 1) Page 14
