Entangled (Spellbound #1)

by Nikki Jefford

Fight, Gray told herself. Break through the magic.

  Gray didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or wail. Of all the people to take her down she couldn’t believe it’d be Ryan Phillips.

  An image of Gray’s mom entered her head—her mom lost in the mountains, searching for a contact who’d beckoned her to get her out of the way. ’Cause it all came down to the final battle of the twins, didn’t it?

  Gray saw her mother coming home: Gray gone again, this time without a trace—not so much as a cold corpse for proof. Even with a second chance at life, she hadn’t gotten to tell her good-bye; to give her one last hug. Tears leaked out the sides of Gray’s eyes.

  Gray managed to thrash slightly. Ryan’s eyes widened. He stood above her, reading aloud from an old text. He set it down and grabbed a porcelain bowl that wasn’t smoking. His fingers slipped inside then flicked above her, sending a rain of droplets over her face. They mingled with her tears. “With this holy water, spirit be gone.”

  Gray would have laughed if she had the use of her vocal cords. Nice try, Pear Head.

  Then something began pulling at her insides. She gasped aloud. It should have alarmed her that Ryan found that encouraging, but she was a little too distracted by the sensation of floating away from the floor like one of the smoke trails streaming from white porcelain.

  Gray was floating. Except she wasn’t floating. Her body was still on the floor.

  “Go to the light, Graylee Perez.”

  Screw you, Ryan Phillips.

  There was a second gasp, only Gray hadn’t made it—the body on the floor had. The girl sat up suddenly, choking, then stopped. She looked at Ryan with teeth that gleamed like the Cheshire Cat. “You did it. You freaking did it!”

  Oh, crap.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Raj wasn’t good at locator spells, but Adrian was. Any misgivings he’d had about returning Adrian’s powers were put to rest when the warlock went immediately to work arranging four candles around his spot on the floor. He set one North, South, East, and West.

  “Gray wasn’t purged?” came Raj’s first terrified question the moment Gray disappeared from sight. He’d considered she might have turned herself invisible, but only for a second. Her absence was tangible.

  At first Adrian studied the last place she’d stood. “That wasn’t a purge. That was an abduction, and a cowardly one at that.” Adrian lit the candles and jasmine incense.

  Raj set a goblet of water in front of Adrian.

  “Let the water show the location of Graylee Perez,” Adrian said. “Let the water show the location of Graylee Perez.” He repeated this two more times.

  The water rippled then smoothed. A house appeared faintly then cleared.

  “That’s Gray’s house,” Raj said, heading for the front door.

  Adrian was right behind him. They jumped in Raj’s car and once more he screeched through the streets. From the corner of his eyes he saw Adrian’s set of syringes appear. One by one he injected himself with the remaining colors. “Once we take care of Gray you’ll need to get me to my Nan for detox.”

  Raj flew into Gray’s driveway, coming to a skidding halt beside her car. From the street he’d seen the front door open and went racing inside.

  Ryan Phillips stood over Gray. She was seated on the floor, trying to get to her feet. Raj started toward Ryan, to deck him, before helping Gray up. When he took his next step, however, she turned and smiled—a grin that stopped him in his tracks.

  “You’re too late, McKenna. You’re too freaking late.” Charlene began laughing.

  Raj fell to his knees and put his head in his hands.

  The laughter abruptly died, as did the self-satisfied smile on Ryan’s face, when Adrian walked in. “Oh, it’s never too late,” he said smoothly. He stared directly at Ryan. “Ryan Phillips.” Adrian’s lips curled around the last name. “Your father has been a very bad warlock. Like father, like son. Sit down.”

  It was a toss-up as to whether it was a spell or pure terror that made Ryan take a seat on the couch.

  Raj rose slowly. The grief and hatred were equally intense and just about to rip him apart.

  Adrian turned to Charlene, who’d now stood. “And you, my dear, are a wicked witch.”

  “Screw you!”

  “I don’t think so.” Adrian snatched Charlene’s wrist and pulled out a dagger.

  She screamed as he carved something into her palm and did the same on her second hand. Adrian sliced into his palms and then grasped Charlene’s, joining their open wounds.

  He began chanting in Latin.

  “Stop him!” Charlene shrieked.

  Ryan leapt off the couch and jumped onto Adrian’s back. Raj sprang to action and tackled Ryan. He had no idea what Adrian was doing, but anything at this point was worth a shot.

  Adrian finished his incantation then dropped with a thud to the floor.

  Charlene’s mouth opened and closed. She held her arms open and examined her body from her chest down then held her palms open in front of her.

  “Charlene?” Ryan asked shakily from the floor.

  Raj held his breath.

  “He cut my freaking hands open!”

  Ryan followed Charlene to the kitchen. Water filled Raj’s eardrums—a gushing onslaught of liquid.

  It looked like Adrian was dead. “Adrian.” Raj touched him with the tip of his shoe. “Adrian!”

  Raj crouched beside Adrian and turned him over. The smile on the warlock’s face sent an unsettling shiver over him. Adrian tried to laugh, but it came out in raspy huffs. “Get me to my Nan,” he said.

  Raj pulled Adrian up by the arm then half carried, half floated him to his car. Adrian’s grandmother made a big fuss when he dropped him off, lamenting in some language he didn’t recognize. Raj didn’t have time for dramatics. He dumped Adrian and headed for the south side of town.

  He pounded on his mother’s door.

  “Raj?”

  He was staring at the ground. His lower lip quivered.

  “Come in.”

  They sat in silence in his mother’s living room until Raj began sobbing. He hid his face in his hands. His entire body shook. At some point his mother moved from the chair across from him and took a seat beside him. When her hand touched his back Raj inhaled sharply.

  “What happened?” his mother asked in a soothing voice. “The night of the fire?”

  Raj stared straight ahead and blinked several times. “Dad attacked me. He was drunk. He threw me against the wall.” Raj took a deep breath. “Then he pulled out a cigarette and flicked open his Zippo.”

  The hand that had been stroking Raj’s back stopped. Raj swallowed. “I snatched the lighter from him. He said to give it back. I said if he wanted it, go fetch it. Then I threw it in the living room. While Dad was hammering me with his fists the curtains caught fire. I didn’t realize Aahana was sleeping on the couch.”

  The silence that followed was unbearable. As soon as Raj’s mother wrapped her arm around him the tears rushed down his cheeks and this time she didn’t try to stop them.

  His mom could be very abrupt. She also had one of the most soothing voices he’d ever heard—when she chose to use it. She used it now. “Raj, give me the lighter. It’s time to let go.”

  * * *

  This time, when Gray went invisible, it was different. She floated like a spirit. She was incapable of speech or physical contact.

  What she could do was travel at warp speed and go through walls.

  She passed through the walls of Valley Medical Hospital and came to a stop at the foot of Stacey Morehouse’s bed. There was only a moment’s hesitation before she dove inside. It was rumored that if a soul still lingered, a battle for the body would ensue, but Stacey Morehouse had long given up.

  But not entirely.

  Graylee Perez.

  Gray heard Stacey’s voice crystal clear, but she couldn’t see her through the white haze.

  Suddenly the voice was closer—in her face.


  Glad you could stop by.

  Before Stacey exited the body she played Gray her last horrifying moments before hitting the light post. Gray nearly threw herself out of the body as the vehicle lost control and accelerated toward the steel post.

  Gray sat up in the hospital bed, gasping. The movement triggered the alarms on her monitor. At first she thought the beeping was inside her head. A nurse ran in then nearly fainted when she saw Gray sitting up in bed. A second nurse followed and made the sign of the cross. “Sweet Jesus,” she said. “It’s a miracle.”

  Mr. Morehouse was there within ten minutes, hugging Gray against his starched shirt. “I knew it. I knew you’d come back to me.” He stood up. “Out! Everyone out! Give my daughter room to breathe, except you, Dr. Conway. I’m holding you personally responsible for making sure Stacey stays in her current state.”

  No one had addressed Gray directly, as though she were mute or might have lost all motor functions, but now that the initial shock had died down, Mr. Morehouse bent beside her. “Stacey, do you know who I am?”

  So she had amnesia now, did she?

  “Very funny, Dad. What’s going on?”

  * * *

  Gray turned her head side to side in front of the mirror: Stacey Morehouse’s mirror. After chasing the local news reporters away, Mr. Morehouse had insisted on taking her home, despite Dr. Conway’s entreaty on keeping her in the hospital for observation. One just didn’t argue with a lawyer.

  Gray’s hair was now golden blond. This was weirder than being inside Charlene’s body. She was also a foot taller.

  Gray opened Stacey’s dresser drawers. Nice clothes. Not really her style, but she could learn to adapt. Gray found a pair of faded jeans she liked and snapped her fingers. Surprise mixed with relief washed over her when the jeans appeared on her legs. She hadn’t been entirely convinced her powers would transfer with her into the body of a biologically ungifted human.

  Gray touched the pendant at her throat before filling it in and unclasping the vial. She set it on top of the dresser.

  Gray rushed down the stairs and was stopped by Mr. Morehouse’s voice as she started toward the front door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Gray turned slowly. Last she’d seen, Mr. Morehouse had set up shop in his study. Now his papers were stacked in piles around his laptop on the dining room table.

  Gray pasted a smile over her face. “I’ve been cooped up for two months, Daddy.” Daddy sounded like a word Stacey would use.

  Mr. Morehouse’s facial features relaxed. “You’re right.” Gray thought that’d be the end of it until he stood up. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  “Um, okay, let me just run up to my room and grab my sweater.” Gray dashed back up to Stacey’s room and closed the door. She picked up the phone and dialed home. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.”

  “Hello?”

  “Mom?”

  “Who is this?” The voice was much clearer now.

  “Meet me in front of the bookstore. Five minutes.” Gray hung up the phone. She grabbed a sweater out of the closet and raced down the stairs. “Ready, Daddy.”

  “Where to?”

  “The bookshop.”

  Mr. Morehouse looked her over carefully. Maybe Stacey was disinclined to read.

  “I’m going to need a pile of magazines,” Gray said. “Got to catch up on all my celebrity gossip… and world events, naturally.”

  “Naturally,” Mr. Morehouse said with a chuckle.

  * * *

  Gray’s mom was already pacing in front of the bookstore when Mr. Morehouse pulled into a front row spot. As they approached the front door, Gray yelled suddenly, “Ms. Perez!”

  Her mom turned and looked at her blankly.

  Gray kept walking toward her and only stopped when she was a couple feet away. “I go to school with Charlene. My name’s Stacey Morehouse.”

  Mom’s mouth opened.

  Gray turned to Mr. Morehouse, who’d caught up. “Dad, this is Ms. Perez. She lost her daughter, Graylee, two days before my accident.”

  Mr. Morehouse, who had stretched his hand out toward Mom, pulled her to him when their fingers touched and embraced her. “Please accept my condolences, Ms. Perez.” Mr. Morehouse stepped back. There were tears in his eyes. “I know something of your pain. I nearly lost my little girl.”

  Mom’s eyes began to glisten. Both adults were on the verge of waterworks. Gray cleared her throat. “Couldn’t leave my pop alone. He’s single. I don’t know why. He’s such a great guy.” Gray twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Ms. Perez is single, too.”

  “Graylee!”

  Mr. Morehouse shot her mom a look.

  “What I meant to say…” Mom swallowed down what sounded like a sob. “Graylee was the light of my life.” She looked straight at Gray. “She still is.”

  * * *

  Convincing Mr. Morehouse to let her out for an afternoon hadn’t been too hard; talking him into starting school back up was more difficult. He’d gotten it into his head to hire a private tutor to homeschool her for the remaining seven weeks of the semester.

  “Dad, you have to be kidding,” Gray whined. Mr. Morehouse might be a lawyer, but she’d discovered the quickest way to get him to bend. “I was trapped inside a coma with no family, friends—no one to talk to. Don’t trap me inside this house with some stodgy old tutor for company.”

  What Mr. Morehouse wouldn’t budge on was driving. This was absolutely forbidden. “I’ll hire a driver,” he said.

  “Or I could take the bus.”

  “You? Take the bus?”

  “Opposed to being chauffeured every day—uh, yeah. Doesn’t sound very economical, Dad.”

  Mr. Morehouse stared at her a moment before breaking out into a grin. “Always the good head on your shoulders. You know money doesn’t matter when it comes to your happiness, but if you would prefer to take the school bus I won’t stop you.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  * * *

  Twilight Zone revisited would best describe Gray’s first day back at school in a new body, only this time Gray was treated like a returning celebrity rather than a mental case. Students formed circles around her. The braver ones hugged her. If Gray happened to forget certain details of her life before, it was waved off as post-traumatic stress, selective amnesia—totally understandable.

  With all the Stacey Morehouse admirers following her around, it was difficult to get a moment alone.

  “You’re like Miracle Girl,” Trish Roberts said, stroking Gray’s hair as though touching the divine.

  “Give her space!” Pete Sutherland cried when Gray walked up to Stacey’s locker. It didn’t matter that she had no clue what the combo was. It was amazing the amount of leeway people allowed a girl waking from a two-month coma. The office staff had provided a paper copy of Stacey Morehouse’s class schedule and locker combination.

  “I’ll hold your books for you while you put away your coat,” Pete said.

  Gray glanced at him. As Stacey Morehouse, she could probably get any guy at McKinley High, but there was only one boy she wanted holding her books. She listened for the sound of the Zippo. She turned to look down the hall. Gray felt someone staring at her, but it turned out to be the daggers from Charlene’s eyes prickling the back of her head.

  Charlene had her locker door open, but she faced into the hallway, glaring at Gray.

  Gray unzipped a small pouch on her bag and pulled out the pendant. Hopefully, Raj and Adrian were wearing theirs. She clasped it around her neck and tucked the vial under her shirt.

  “Excuse me a sec,” Gray said to her groupies. “Mind guarding my locker a moment?”

  “My pleasure,” Pete answered.

  Charlene’s eyes narrowed as Gray approached. “Hi, Charlene,” Gray sang out in Stacey’s peppy voice.

  Charlene looked her up and down. “Welcome back.”

  “The doctor said it was a miracle.�
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  Charlene’s lower lip stuck out.

  “I’m just ready to move on with my life and pick up where I left off.”

  Charlene grasped her hands. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Blake.”

  “Or what? You’ll try to kill me again?”

  Charlene started.

  Gray moved within inches of her face. “I know what you did to me.”

  Charlene’s jaw dropped. She cowered, and it made Gray stand up even taller. These long legs of Stacey’s were nice. There was fear in Charlene’s eyes. There ought to be.

  This was for Stacey Morehouse.

  This was for Gray.

  “Who told you that?” Charlene asked. “They’re lying!” she said when Gray stared her down. “If it was Raj McKenna you should know he has a weird fixation on me.”

  Gray threw her head back and laughed. “Stop lying, Charlene.”

  Charlene eyed her suspiciously. Her lower lip quivered in the next instant when she looked into Gray’s eyes. Gray made them flash the way only a witch could, sending an electrical current like lightning crackling around her irises. It sent pinpricks of pain back to her eye sockets, but the effect was dramatic and unavoidable when a witch was angry enough.

  “I know what you are, Charlene. I know what you did, and now I’ve taken your powers.”

  * * *

  Gray looked at Charlene’s legs. Her sister followed her stare. A wave of pale white skin rolled over her legs like stockings being stripped off. At the same time Charlene was losing her perfect tan, Stacey’s skin filled with color.

  “You can’t do that!” Charlene cried. “It’s not possible.”

  Gray leaned in. “If I were you, I’d keep my voice down—wouldn’t want to end up in an insane asylum.” Gray spun on her heel and left Charlene opening and closing her mouth like a guppy.

  There was only one thing left to do.

  Gray was waiting on the hood of Raj’s car when he walked out at lunch. The luck amulet he’d given her dangled from her fingers. She watched Raj’s eyes alight upon it. Gray swung it into her palm and closed her fingers around it.

  Raj approached her cautiously. “Pretty amazing recovery,” he said.

  She pushed herself off the hood. “No doubt.”

  “Is this permanent?” Raj asked, waving a hand to indicate the towering figure that was Stacey Morehouse.