Before I can relocate Selene, a searing pain hits me out of nowhere, all along my left arm. Right before my eyes, all the tiny shards of glass from the beer bottle that I slid on are being extracted from my arm, and are flying across the room to become part of the growing pile of glass where Selene is standing. With a sweep of her arm, the entire pile rises into the air, and starts to arrange into a long, thin structure. In seconds, Selene’s created a huge, glittering serpent out of the broken glass in the room, and has sent it flying right towards me.
I don’t stop to think, I just hop over the edge of the balcony before Selene’s creation can close its jaws around me. I land on top of the ticket booth a few feet below, and then clamber down the rest of the way to the ground. It doesn’t take long for the serpent to catch up to me, and I have to dash straight through the battlefield in order to evade it. As I run, I do my best to sidestep the bodies of spellcasters and weres alike, and occasionally dart between two fighters as they clash. I notice with a hint of pride that the members of Penumbra don’t really know how to handle fighting weres, and their numbers have thinned considerably.
I know I need to either break Selene’s concentration somehow, or stop the snake itself, but between dodging the fighters around me and evading the glass behemoth, I can’t think of how to do either. Somewhere in the distance, I hear almost constant gunfire, and I know that Krystal has her hands full as well, and that she can’t help me. But Alyssa steps back from the still form of the woman she just knocked unconscious, pushes me behind her, and holds Selene’s creation still in midair. The glass serpent thrashes, but it can’t move forward any further.
I turn to Alyssa to thank her for helping me, and notice that her irises are still red. Before I can even ask, Alyssa assures me, “I’m fine. I feel stronger than ever, actually. Now, go take her down.” We don’t have the time to argue, so I nod, and sprint towards the stairs.
Now that I know for a fact that my spells are stronger than Selene’s, I have no problem quelling the fire she’d set in front of the staircase, and climbing up to her the normal way. She’s expecting me, though, and launches several spells at me from her position near one of the broken windows. I consider putting a shield around myself, but decide against it, and rush straight at Selene. I duck and roll out of the way of her spells, and concentrate my own energy on bursting the pipes in the walls. Water comes gushing out of the walls in miniature geysers, but before it can hit the ground, I gather it all in one highly pressurized stream, and hurl it at Selene, who doesn’t realize what I’m doing until it’s too late. The water hits her from the side, knocks the wind out of her, and pushes her over the railing. I rush to see if she’s alright, and surprisingly, she’s climbing to her feet on the ground below. She must have slowed down her descent with a spell.
Alyssa and I must be more in sync than I realized; without even discussing it first, both Alyssa and I teleport to Selene’s side, and launch an attack. Despite the fact that she’s soaking wet and in pain, Selene can easily handle the both of us attacking at once. She darts out of the way of each of our attempts to strike her, and more than once, maneuvers us into accidentally hitting each other. She seems to get winded quickly, though, and blasts Alyssa onto her back before doing the same to me.
I try to get back on my feet, but without warning, my back erupts with a pain so intense that I can’t contain the accompanying scream. Alyssa calls my name, but I can’t respond. I writhe on the floor, my head in my hands, unable to escape the sensation that something is trying to force its way out from between my shoulder blades. My eyes are shut so tightly, that when I open them, the world seems to be composed of red and black specks of light. I bite my lip to keep from crying out again, taste the blood filling my mouth, resist the urge to spit it out. I’d been hoping this torture would be a one time thing, but my body apparently has other plans.
I slowly come to realize that Selene is standing over me, with her hands on her hips. “It’s a shame Krystal got to you first,” she says. “I actually kind of like you, kid. You were born for this.”
I open my mouth to respond, but not a sound escapes my throat, not even a scream. I content myself with glaring at her, thinking that even if I had been given the choice, I would have stayed with Krystal. She has her flaws, but she’s still my mentor. My friend.
Selene suddenly ducks to avoid a bright green jet of energy, then turns tail and runs. I’m confused until I see Krystal chasing her, both guns blazing. One shot catches Selene in the leg as she approaches the huge hole in the ground, and she stumbles, giving Krystal the time she needed to close the gap. They exchange a few blows, but Krystal proves to be the superior fighter, and subdues Selene in under a minute. Selene scrambles backward, tries to escape, but Krystal grabs her by the hair and drags her into a standing position. I can see lips moving, but with the noise from all the fighting going on around them, it’s hard to make out more than the odd word. Then Krystal holds her gun to Selene’s temple, and fires. There’s no wound, like with any of her other victims, but Selene slumps all the same. Instead of merely falling to the ground, Selene’s limp form continues falling, presumably all the way down to the heap of rubble at the very bottom of the hole Alyssa created.
I make an attempt to stand again, but the pain intensifies, and I lay curled in a ball on the polished marble floor. Hands reach for my neck, and I tense, but they’re only checking for a pulse. Somewhere, I think I hear people screaming; exclamations of both agony and victory reach my ears. The sounds gradually lower to a mere hum in the back of my mind, and as I fade from consciousness, I try to avoid wondering if the quiet, disjointed strains of lament and jubilation will be the soundtrack for my death.
Chapter 30
I can’t breathe. I can hardly move my arms and legs, and the world around me is nothing but black. It’s as if I’ve been buried prematurely, and the people I’ve left behind in the mortal realm didn’t even bother providing a coffin. I frantically scrape at my surroundings, finding that the dirt gives way easily at the touch of my fingertips. After a few minutes of digging my way to freedom, my head and upper body are exposed to fresh air, though my lungs appear to have no interest in functioning as lungs.
A hand reaches down to help me up, and I latch onto it, allowing its owner to pull me up onto my feet. My vision’s a little cloudy, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this person before in my life; he’s a few inches taller than me, with dark skin and dark hair, wearing a charcoal colored suit covering a red button down shirt. As if he can hear my thoughts, he says, “You’re not dying, kid. Not yet. There’s still a lot left for you to do.”
“Yeah? Like what?,” I ask as I rub my eyes. “And for that matter, who are you?”
In response, the man grins at me, and for just a split second, his face comes into focus. But he turns away before I can examine him very well, and everything around us is obscured by a blinding white light.
I blink a few times, and slowly realize that I must have been dreaming. I try to remember what the dream had been about, but most of it slips away as I try to recall. I can vaguely remember a man in a gray suit, but even that image disappears as my surroundings become clearer with every blink. I sit up, being extremely careful in case my back is still out of commission, and take a look around. I’m on Nick’s bed, his sheets thrown carelessly onto the blood red carpet. I must have kicked the sheets off of me in my sleep. Nick himself sits on a wooden chair by the door, and though his eyes are closed, I’m sure he’s still aware of his surroundings, ready to leap out of his seat and defend me if I come under attack.
I tiptoe over to Nick, and study his features silently. He seems to be fast asleep, rather than on alert as I’d assumed. He looks younger, less troubled, when he’s dead to the world. I lift his chin up slightly, and plant a soft kiss on his lips, which is enough to rouse him from his nap. His hands wrap around me, and he holds me closer when I try to stand up straight. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” he whispers in my
ear.
I lean in close enough that our noses are nearly touching. “Same to you,” I whisper back. Nick’s lips brush against mine again, but this time, I pull away. There’s something I want to get off my chest before we let things go back to normal. “I’m sorry I never told you about Alyssa,” I begin. “We only kissed once, and it’ll never happen again, and-“
“Don’t… I’m still pissed about that, but right now, it doesn’t matter.” Nick flashes me the smile I’ve come to adore, and says, “I could have lost you last night, but you’re still in one piece. That’s what’s important. Besides, you’re not perfect. I’m not perfect. But your flaws and the mistakes you’ve made are part of who you are, and I love you. The whole package, not just your good side.”
I panic for a split second, not sure of how to respond. I’d been expecting our first use of the L word to be under more romantic circumstances, but I suppose it’s more meaningful if the moment isn’t choreographed, or forced. Besides, I can finally feel it, that indescribable feeling that Jenna said would come. I take a deep breath, and reply, “I love you too,” and press my forehead against his.
Nick and I remain in that position, watching each other, and I try not to let my nervousness show. We’re so close, that it feels like there is no world around us. It’s just me and Nick, in our own tiny space, not quite separate from the rest of the world, but devoid of the pain and confusion plaguing everything outside of us. I would be content to forget everything irrelevant to our relationship, and stay shut up in the room with the boy in front of me, but the moment can’t last forever; after a while, I wonder aloud, “What happened to everyone else?”
Nick stands up, and pushes the chair away from the door. “Come and see,” he says, before grabbing my hand and leading me down the hallway.
The living room has been cleared of most of the furniture, except for the couch, which is being occupied by an unconscious Alyssa. On the floor, wrapped in blankets and sleeping bags, are some people I recognize from the werefolk support group, their human forms restored. Many of them are covered in bandages stained with dried blood, but weres are incredibly quick healers, so I try not to worry too much about their conditions. Rachel lies facing her younger sister, both of them flanked by their sleeping parents. It appears that all of them are going to be fine.
Krystal emerges from her room and joins us, taking care not to step on any of the strangers sleeping on the ground. “Good morning,” she mutters as she rubs her eyes. “How are you guys feeling?”
Nick and I look at each other, then smile in unison. “We’re fine,” I answer, “How are you?”
“Worried about you, Heather. What happened last night?”
“I felt this intense pain in my back, and after a while, I blacked out. You were there the only other time I felt it… I wish I knew why it keeps happening.”
Krystal shrugs, and says, “That’s something we can figure out later. For now, I’m just glad that you’re still alive.”
“Likewise.” Krystal and I embrace, and it occurs to me that I’ve forgiven her without realizing it. I’m not normally one to hold a grudge, so I’m not all that surprised. Besides, there are more important things to worry about than staying angry at Krystal. “What happened to Penumbra?,” I ask. “Are they still after us? Or, did they have to disband since Selene’s gone?”
“About that…” The corners of Krystal’s lips twitch up into a tiny smile, and she says, “Apparently, they’re offering me the chance to take her place.”
“What?”
“It’s the clan’s code, one that Selene herself put into effect. Whoever kills their previous leader becomes the current leader. So, technically, every member of Penumbra answers to me now. But since we haven’t seen eye to eye in so long, they’re giving me the option to say no.”
“Wow… So, what are you going to do? Are you going to accept?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I deserve to have that kind of power.”
“You never know, taking over the clan could be good for you.”
Krystal shrugs. “All I know is that I’m glad it’s all over.”
“Not quite.” Landon enters the room as well, his insistence on shirtlessness putting all the scrapes and bruises along his torso on display. He must be in excruciating pain, but he’s hiding it well. “Have you guys turned on the news?”
“Not yet,” Krystal says. “Why do you ask?”
Landon doesn’t respond, but presses the power button on the living room’s flat screen TV. The blank screen lights up, and shows a grim faced woman reading from a sheet of paper in her hands. Her voice and expression are nearly devoid of emotion, but her voice catches just slightly as she begins reciting the report Landon wanted us to see. “Last night, reports came in of unusual tremors under Grand Central Station, followed by the appearance of cracks in the ground that widened into a fifty foot wide chasm. Several bodies have been recovered from the scene of the incident, including the body of forty-seven year old city council member Selene Martin, who also appeared to have accrued scrapes and bruises unrelated to the fall damage moments before her death. City officials are trying to determine whether the incident was an act of terrorism, but evidence of explosives or any other danger to the building’s structure have yet to be found. All subway, Metro North, and Amtrak service to and from Grand Central is suspended until further notice.
“Possibly even more surprising is the apparent presence of so-called ‘metahumans’ on the scene at Grand Central last night. Eyewitness accounts describe hundreds of unknown parties performing impossible feats, such as shooting fire from their hands, and vanishing into thin air. There have also been reports of large animals with human features, many of whom engaged in combat with the other metahumans, bringing the number of casualties to a grand total of eighty seven confirmed dead. An anonymous source sent in the following video taken on their cell phone of the action last night. Be advised, though the video is of low quality, the scene is still incredibly graphic.”
The woman disappears, replaced by a grainy video of the battle at Grand Central. A werewolf tears out a spellcaster’s innards with his claws. A spellcaster manipulates his own shadow, using long black tendrils to pierce gaping holes through a werewolf advancing on him. A massive, glittering shape glides through the air, chasing a figure moving swiftly through the battlefield. Me. Then Alyssa, only recognizable by her purple hair, can be seen casting a spell over the glass serpent. The video keeps playing, but the audio is replaced by the reporter’s voiceover. “Assuming the video is legitimate, this raises several important questions: Who are these metahumans? What do they want? How can they exist? Are they behind the potential attack on Grand Central? And most importantly, are any of us safe?”
Landon shuts off the TV at this point, and a hush falls over the room. All eyes are on me, for some reason. I suppose it’s because if they managed to enhance the video, Alyssa and I can be clearly seen. Meaning we could potentially become the media’s next target, the recognizable faces of the group of “metahumans” terrorizing the nation. I turn to look over at Alyssa, who’s still asleep, still unaware of how much trouble we could be in. From behind me, I can hear Landon saying, “If we don’t keep videos like that off the air, none of us freaks will be safe.”
“What do you mean?,” I ask as I turn back to face the blank TV screen.
“I mean, there’s a reason we keep werewolves, vampires, and everything else secret. If everyone knew what was out there, do you really think they would welcome us with open arms? No. People will always fear what they don’t understand. So, we’ll be hunted. We’ll be detained. We’ll be the subjects of various tests. We’ll be hated, and feared, and persecuted. And in the worst case scenario, we’ll be exterminated.”
“What can we do, though? We can’t control what goes on the air.”
“I don’t know.” Landon lets out a frustrated sigh, and limps back to his room. “I guess it’s time to find out who the
real monsters are.”
END OF BOOK ONE
Spellbound (the Spellbound Series Book 1) Page 22
