“Awesome!” a guy said with a laugh as he bolted down the steps.
“You coming?” another one asked eyeing me up and down.
“Sure, I’ll be right there,” I forced a smile as he backed slowly down the stairs gawking at me.
Creepy much?
“I’m staying here. I not in the mood for swimming,” one girl said to her friend and then chugged the remainders of her drink.
“Yes you are,” I said looking directly at her.
She held her gaze on me a moment and then nodded. “You’re right. I am actually. C’mon, Natalie, let’s go,” she said to her friend.
Now this is totally cool.
When there was nobody around, I ran my hands all over the sarcophagus, having to stand on my tip-toes to slide my hands over the top. The dagger wasn’t attached to the outside. My heart sank.
I looked for a way to open it, feeling excited and totally creeped out at the same time. I really hoped there wouldn’t be a mummy inside. But considering Taylor’s mom and what I knew about her, I couldn’t be sure. I found where the two halves attached, and taking one last look around, I cracked it open. A sharp musty odor like dirty socks poured out, filling my nostrils. With a cough, I waved my hand through the air in front of my face. My eyes widened at the golden statue that stood inside. It looked similar to the sarcophagus, but smaller. Its headdress consisted of gold and black horizontal stripes, and its arms were crossed against its chest.
When I looked closer, I noticed it held something in each hand. I ran my fingers along it, and realized one hand gripped a golden rod, but the other held a golden dagger. The black snake coiled around the handle was camouflaged against the stripes in the statue’s headdress. My adrenaline soared.
I grabbed the handle and yanked it out. An excited ball of energy twisted through me.
Something shifted in the shadows on the landing and I whipped my hand with the dagger behind my back, hiding it. Bright lights shone in the front window, and I spun back around to see what it was. Beams of light from several flashlights drifted in through the windows, coming closer to the front door.
“Crap!”
“Raid!” someone from the kitchen screamed.
“Here! Come up here,” I heard Roman call.
I snapped my eyes back to the upstairs landing. Roman held his hand out. Relief flooded me and I kicked off my shoes, dashed over the remaining stairs, and took his hand. We ran down the hall, passing the creepy gargoyle, and tore into the back room.
Somebody had turned the music off, and the sound of loud banging on the front door filled the house.
Roman closed the door behind us. Puddles of dried wax pooled under our feet. I realized we were in the room where Mrs. Snow performed her spooky ritual the other day.
“I got it!” I said breathlessly, leaning back against the door.
A smile tugged at Roman’s mouth as he leaned both his arms on the door above my head. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered against my lips.
I gave him a seductive smile even as my heart raced out of control. He ran the back of his fingers along my tummy on the exposed skin just above my jeans. Bending his neck, he kissed me passionately until I melted into him. Kissing Roman was like opening presents on Christmas morning; you never could tell what would be wrapped up in each one, but it always held a promise of something magical.
More flickering lights shone into the night sky. Reluctantly, I pushed Roman back.
“I think the cops are here. Let’s go.”
Roman kissed my nose. “One sec.”
I followed him as he ran across the room and looked out the window. His face went from smiling to scowling to ashen white.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s the Augusti Forza.”
My legs went numb, as though all the blood had drained out of them. “What? Roman, I can’t move.”
He cupped my chin and stared into my eyes intently. “Yes, you can. You have to. There’s an elevator here that takes you down to the first floor. I’ve been scoping this place out. Take it down, go into the office, and wait for me. Give me the dagger.”
“What’re you gonna do with it?”
“Trust me,” he held out his hand. “We can’t let them find the dagger or you. It’s not safe to keep it with you.”
That made sense. Trembling, I passed him the dagger and watched him tuck it behind his belt.
“I’ll get rid of them, and then I’ll bring you home for good.” He brushed his fingers slowly along my cheek, his lips turned up at the edges. His eyes locked onto mine. “I love you, my sweet butterfly.”
Another loud bang came from downstairs, and I couldn’t respond. Roman had told me he loved me which was epic, but with the pounding on the door, that I could only assume was the Augusti Forza coming to kill me, I completely froze.
Angry voices and screams erupted below.
“Oh my God,” I said, latching onto Roman’s arm. “What about Taylor and Chase?”
“They won’t hurt humans. They’re only looking for you.” He scooped me into his arms and carried me across the room to the glass elevator, and set me back on my feet. He kissed me between my eyebrows and then, pushing my hair back from my face with both hands, leaned down and kissed me softly one more time before stepping back. The elevator door slid shut.
My skin prickled as I descended. I kept my gaze on his strained face, until I couldn’t see him anymore, terrified it would be my last memory of him. I’d waited my whole life to feel the way Roman made me feel. I only imagined it could be so good, and I wanted to hold onto it forever. We’re so close, we can’t be caught now. When the elevator landed, I opened the door with trembling hands, and darted back into the office.
I hid behind the massive folds of material in the drapes, my heart pounding and threatening to explode. Seconds seemed like hours as I waited for Roman. I kept thinking that if I were the Spectral already, I could fight them. I hated hiding behind the drapes like a coward. But there was no way I could face Massimo—and God knows who else—with whatever endowment they had. At least not until I had my own powers.
The thought of them hurting Roman made a cold freeze work its way through me. I swore to myself that if they hurt him, I would kill them all one by one, the very moment I could. A movie line replayed in my mind: Revenge is a dish best served cold.
“True?” I heard a familiar voice call into the room.
Startled, I carefully peeked through the slit of curtain. It was Chase. I stuck my head out and waved him forward. “Come on! You have to hide!”
He closed the door and ran up beside me breathlessly. “There’s no hiding. They’re doing a total sweep of the house. And I don’t think they’re cops, either.” Chase frowned and kept looking back over his shoulder. Sweat beaded across his forehead.
I raised my eyebrows, wondering what he knew.
“Unless the Florida police have new uniforms, something’s up. I’ve been looking all over for you. Let’s go!”
“Go? Go where?”
My mind reeled. I needed to wait here for Roman. He was coming back for me. He had the dagger. He knew where my mother was. We had a plan. He loved me. I was pretty sure I loved him, too. I couldn’t leave.
Deep voices rumbled through the hall, growing louder by the second. A chill raced along my skin.
Chase tugged my hand forward and pulled at the latch on the window. “Damn it, it’s stuck,” he groaned. Lifting his foot, he smashed down on the lever until it popped and released the window. Relief was short-lived. Just as the cool air outside hit my skin, someone wrapped their arms around my waist and tugged me backward until I squeezed tightly against their body.
Chase turned toward us, his face red. He pummeled whoever held me in the side of the head, knocking him off balance. Heart slamming, I broke free and ran to the window, ignoring every thought I had to look at my attacker. Instinct took over. I just needed to get out. Thousands of luminescent stars now looked like crystalline beacons of
hope. I bashed out the screen with my heel.
Behind me, amid the sounds of punches and yelling, someone shouted, “Get her! Get her!”
Chase screamed, “Run, True!”
My foot caught on the window ledge and I tripped. My body dangled half out the window and half inside the room. Dew from the grass licked at my hands. So close. A vice-like grip encircled my ankle. I kicked the hold and clawed at the ground, but nothing worked. Wrenching my body around, I turned just as another man covered Chase’s head in a potato sack. I screamed until my throat felt raw. I’d never been so scared. I couldn’t breathe.
My captor dragged me inside, his face contorted into a snarl. Not giving up, I squirmed again accidentally banging my face against the window ledge. The metallic taste of blood trickled in my mouth. He yanked me up.
“Let me go!” I yelled, my voice now harsh and raspy from fear.
This was it. This was how I was going to die.
Determined to face the end with my head high, I turned toward my attacker. It wasn’t Massimo or Paulo. I didn’t know who these men were. But whoever it was, instead of a face filled with menace like I expected, the man’s eyes were unfocused. He shook his head as if confused, and then he started to release me.
“Take her down, you idiot!” the other man snapped.
Whatever fog the other man was in lifted, and he reestablished his grip.
My whole body went ice cold. Something sharp pricked the skin on my neck. Pain surged through me, hot like venom.
The room spun; a cloudy vision of a needle. Then nothing. Complete blackness.
Chapter Twenty
Startled into consciousness by a roaring engine, I could barely open my heavy lids. Through my cloudy vision, my eyes scanned over newspapers slotted into the seat in front of me. The smell of stinky feet festered up into the air.
The needle. Chase. Roman. I tried to reach for my neck to feel where the needle had pierced my skin; sure there must be a bruise. But when I tried moving my hands, I discovered my wrists were tied to the arm handles of my seat. My heart rate began to climb. I fought against my state of grogginess as I looked around, wondering where I was and who I was with.
A man slept next to me wearing gray slacks and a black turtleneck. His mouth gaped open in a snore and drool dripped down the side of his chin, but I recognized the pudgy round face. He was the man who stuck me with the needle. His shoes were off and his large feet shrouded in black socks sent that stinky smell wafting into my face. Skunk feet. Great.
I wiggled my own feet that were now slipped into a pair of pink flip-flops that somebody must have put on me when I was passed out. I groaned. The color pink and I were two things that just did not go together.
I leaned forward as far as I could and rested the side of my head against the hard surface of the seat in front of me. Across the aisle, Chase sat unconscious, body slumped, and arms tied to his seat. I recognized the man sitting next to him as the other guy back at Taylor’s house. The one who’d put the potato sack over Chase’s head. His dark brown hair was swept into a Donald Trump comb-over, and a pair of black rimmed glasses sat on the tip of his nose.
I looked around, my head heavy and wobbly with sleep, and I realized we were on a small plane. There was nobody else on board that I could see.
The man sitting next to Chase shuffled his newspaper when he noticed me awake and folded it closed. He picked up a drink from his tray, tilted it toward me and smirked. “хороший день принцесса,” he said.
I yanked my wrists, trying to free my hands. “I speak English, loser,” I blurted, not able to contain myself.
“Shame you cannot speak your native tongue of Russian, Jewel.”
“Russian isn’t my native tongue,” I spat through gritted teeth. I shook my head. I was annoyed that I was trapped but relieved I was at least with the Russians and not the Augusti who I knew for sure wanted me dead. It didn’t go over my head that he’d called me Jewel. But I realized he obviously knew who I was anyway. Why else would they have kidnapped me?
The question was—did they take me to kill me or use me? If they wanted to kill me, they could have done it by now. I tried to reassure myself with that thought so I wouldn’t spontaneously combust from fear.
Groaning, I plunked back against my seat. What happened to Roman? A sinking feeling crept over me. He’d taken the dagger I so badly needed and left. He’d told me he would hold them off and promised he’d come back for me. But he didn’t. They came instead. They’d assaulted and kidnapped Chase and me.
I swallowed past the increased burning in my throat, stretched my fingers to pull up the shade on the small oval window to my right, and gazed outside. Puffs of clouds floated aimlessly far below.
I couldn’t deny the possibility that Roman had duped me this whole time. But the softness in his eyes when he looked at me, and the way he touched me seemed so real. I thought of the last time he’d kissed me with his perfectly full lips. He’d said he loved me and I’d totally believed him. Was that a lie, too? Could I really be that naïve? There was that word again. Naïve. Really, what did I know about romance and sincerity anyway? I’d been fooled by my parents my whole life and fallen for it, and well…romance hadn’t exactly been a part of my life until recently.
But if it was true that Roman had been tricking me this whole time, then why didn’t he just hand me over to the Augusti the first time I saw them when I’d walked home from Taylor’s house?
I pinched my eyes tight and worried my lower lip between my teeth as a sickening thought came to me. The Augusti probably needed the dagger to close the deal. Roman seemed obsessed with me finding it from day one. I’d thought the reason for that was because he needed the dagger for me—for my quickening and to save me.
Now I realized it was most likely because he needed the dagger to help kill me; to end the whole abomination problem. I didn’t know if I was more hurt or angry. It was definitely a strong combination of both.
I heard a moan and craned forward to see who it was. Chase stirred, opening his eyes and tugging at the ropes tied around his wrists. When he couldn’t move, his big blue eyes popped wide in alarm. His blond hair that was usually neatly styled was messed up, and his Manchester United soccer jersey was wrinkled. But even under duress, the boy looked ridiculously hot.
“Chase,” I called.
Funky Hair Man pursed his lips at me and then tapped Chase’s wrist. “Calm down and sit still,” he said in a thick Russian accent. “Soon we’ll be landing.”
I looked back out the window to the thick billows of clouds that now surrounded us. The plane rocked slightly as we passed through. We were definitely descending. I had no clue how long we’d been in the air, and no idea where they were taking us.
“Landing?” Chase’s voice sounded husky. “Landing where? What are you talking about?” His eyebrows scrunched together. He looked across the aisle at me and then back at Funky Hair Man. “What’s going on? We were just at a party. We didn’t do anything wrong. I want a lawyer!” He yanked harder against the rope. “What the hell’s going on?”
I felt bad for Chase. Of course when these guys rushed Taylor’s house, he’d thought it was just a police raid. He’d probably figured they smelled weed and arrested everyone or something. When he’d come looking for me and found me hiding in the office, the worst thing he’d probably thought was going to happen was a serious grounding from his parents. Being drugged then waking up on a plane bound to a seat had to be confusing and disturbing, to say the least.
How would I begin to explain that he was in this mess because of me? That because I was really a Spectral witch—who was a pawn in some crazy scenario, and he happened to be at the wrong place, wrong time—now his life was in jeopardy, too. Yeah, that’d go over real well.
Funky Hair Man reached across the aisle and nudged Mr. Drool next to me. I swear the man could sleep through a tsunami if left unattended. “Vladimir,” he called as he stretched across the aisle and tugg
ed his sleeve.
Okay, so not only were these guys speaking Russian, but drool guy’s name was Vladimir. But the Augusti Forza is Italian like me.
Definitely not the Augusti Forza. But if this isn’t the Augusti, who are they? Did my family set this up? Why didn’t they just take me themselves? Cowards.
Vladimir stirred and wiped the drool off his chin with the back of his sleeve while Chase still struggled to free his arms. “То, что происходиt?” Vladimir said to Funky Hair Man.
“The needle. Give it to me,” Funky Hair Man answered.
Vladimir glanced at me, and then back at Chase. Bending over, he pulled out a black leather briefcase from beneath the seat in front of him. He clicked it open and the lid popped up. “Do you want me to give a shot to this one, too, Sergei?” He ticked his head in my direction.
A shiver crept down my spine when I saw the rows of syringes inside filled with a blue-colored liquid.
Sergei pushed his glasses up on his nose. “First this guy. Hurry up, Vladimir. This one is getting on my nerves.”
Chase grunted and tugged harder at the ropes.
“Leave him alone,” I yelled as Vladimir took a syringe from its slot in the briefcase. “Chase, don’t struggle or else they’ll knock you out again,” I pleaded. The last thing I wanted was for them to stick Chase with another needle. Who knows what was in that crap and what effect it could have if given repeatedly.
“Why is that, Jewel-ka?” Vladimir asked me, stressing the sound ‘ka’ at the end of my name. “Is he your boyfriend?” he asked with a laugh. He flicked the syringe with his pointer finger, then pushed the plunger. A quick squirt of liquid shot up through the air. “You miss his touch, Dа?” His chubby face broke out into a wide grin. “I can take you for a spin in the bathroom in just a few moments if you like?”
He turned his head slowly away from the syringe to stare into my eyes. His blue eyes sparkled like miniscule stars twinkling in the sky. Then oddly, they turned green. Then hazel. Then mud-brown. And then the darkest black, like tar. It was mesmerizing.
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