Witch Season: Does she have what it takes to outsmart the craft?

by Larissa May

  CHAPTER 36

  “Breeda!” Miro yelled.

  Horrified, I watched Miro, Shelley, and Vadim run into the backyard below, hands at their talismans. Ion stumbled after them, falling onto the cement patio at the demon’s body. He crawled backward, screaming for someone to use magic.

  “Don’t!” I shouted.

  “Let her go!” Shelley called to Brandon. “You still have to get through us.”

  Brandon ignored her, his hand returning to his blackened amethyst. The electrical wires rose up, cobras ready to strike.

  Shelley grasped her talisman, a ball of fire appearing.

  I dove for the railing. “No!” I screamed. “No magic. He’ll kill you!”

  Brandon’s attention jolted toward Shelley. They locked eyes and the ball of fire immediately dispersed, tendrils of black smoke rising through the air. For one long second I stopped breathing, but Shelley just blinked up at us, wincing at the bright security light, apparently unharmed.

  Shocked, Brandon stared at the black burn marks on his fingers. “She didn’t die,” he said, elation masking his pain. “She didn’t die!”

  I heard a crack: the sound of wood splitting. Under Brandon’s feet, the balcony began to shake. A support beam broke away from the wall, sending the balcony floor tipping to the side. The electrical wires dropped and slid to the ground below, fizzing and snapping.

  Brandon found his footing, grabbing the railing of the balcony with one hand and his talisman with the other. I lunged for him, but it was too late. His eyes never moved from where my friends stood in the backyard.

  With a cry Vadim fell to the ground. Shelley threw herself on top of his body, the heart-wrenching sound of grief filling the air. I turned to Brandon, a murderous magic heating my blood. I grabbed for his hand, but he dodged me. I swung at him, my fist grazing the bottom of his talisman. It flashed once, and then the black lines thickened, overtaking the purple stone.

  “It’s killing you,” I screamed. “Take it off!”

  He shoved me away, and with a groan the balcony shifted, the remaining support beams straining to hold our weight. Inch by inch it peeled from the wall.

  “Breeda, grab something!” Miro shouted.

  I backed up to Evie’s screen door and curled my hand around the handle, my other hand suspended over my wrist. I secured my feet on the single intact beam.

  The balcony gave way, pieces tumbling to the ground in an avalanche of wood. Brandon clawed at the railing still bolted to the side of the building, finding his grip only seconds before falling to the ground. I clutched the door handle as best I could, anticipating the worst. Unable to hold his weight any longer, the railing tore from its post, sending Brandon tumbling.

  I closed my eyes, but didn’t hear a crash. When I opened them, Brandon hung in the air like a dangling puppet.

  Miro kept him aloft, a look of total concentration etched on his face. In the harsh glow of the security light, his skin had no color, but his eyes shone with the agony of an impossible choice. My heart clenched in my chest. Piotr. He’s thinking of Piotr.

  “Let him drop,” Shelley said, her voice empty of all emotion. “Let him die.”

  Miro clutched at his talisman. “I can’t do it.”

  “You can,” she pleaded. “Why should he live?”

  Brandon reached for his talisman. I panicked, but his neck was empty. The stone hung from a piece of the destroyed balcony between us, just outside his grasp, and mine.

  Miro scrunched his eyes shut, straining at the effort of keeping Brandon from falling. I felt useless—but then I realized I could help. I leaned my whole body forward, away from the building, trying to snag Brandon’s talisman with my outstretched fingers. Brandon glanced at me, a cruel smile playing at his lips, and stretched one long arm toward the dangling beam. With one quick burst of energy, he hooked the corded necklace.

  I swung my free hand up, prepared to use my talisman. He wasn’t going to take Miro. If anything, he would take me instead.

  Brandon and I shared a look as we both released our magic. The live wires rose from the ground. Miro shouted my name, but the loud electrical hum drowned out his voice.

  The wires slithered around Brandon’s body, squeezing into his flesh. An otherworldly scream tore from his throat as the electricity jolted his body. He hit the earth with a sickening thud.

  “You’ve got two minutes to say good-bye,” Gavin said as he finished packing up the trunk of his car. He ruffled my hair. “I’m not being cruel, Breeda. It’s just sometimes, when something’s difficult, it makes sense to do it quickly.”

  Brandon and I turned to each other after his father walked away. The wind was fierce, whipping against our hair and clothes.

  “Will it be this windy at Seaside?” I asked. I didn’t really care. I just couldn’t talk about Brandon leaving me.

  Brandon hugged himself, rubbing his arms. “It’s the loneliest weather, isn’t it? We hunch up, protecting ourselves.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, and held him tight.

  I came back from the vision looking straight at the body of the boy I just held. Tears blurred my eyes and my hand slipped from the door handle, sending me into a free fall.

  I never hit the ground.

  CHAPTER 37

  Miro brought me gently through the air until I landed in his outstretched arms. I wanted to sink into him, to blind myself to the horror surrounding us. But that was cowardly, and my friends deserved better.

  “Shelley,” I whispered.

  He looked over at her, hunched over his lifeless friend. Miro’s chest heaved, as though any hope he’d been holding on to had disappeared in an instant.

  A choking sound tore both of us away from our anguish. Ion lay on the cement patio near the demon, his body convulsing, desperate for air. The sound was horrifyingly familiar. He was transitioning.

  “He’s pulsing,” Miro said, his voice urgent. “Go to Shelley and I’ll take care of him.”

  Shelley lay hunched over Vadim, chanting the spell of the dead. I went to her tentatively, knowing full well his death was my fault. “I’m so sorry,” I said, hating myself for how little it helped. “It should have been me.”

  “I used magic, too,” she cried. “Why aren’t I dead?”

  I knelt beside her. “Did he give you anything today?”

  For a moment confusion eclipsed the grief marking her features. She withdrew Evie’s key chain from her pocket. “Just this. He slipped it to me on the way here.”

  “It’s a protectant,” I said softly.

  “So it repelled Brandon’s magic,” Shelley said, tears running down her face. “Vadim saved my life.” Her hand went to Vadim’s white-blond hair. She smoothed it down and bent over to whisper something in his ear.

  I turned away to give them privacy. Miro had Ion’s head in his lap, coaching him to take in a thin stream of air. Had it only been days since he’d done the same for me?

  “Let’s get him inside,” Miro said. He glanced over at Shelley. She stiffened as if she’d felt his gaze. “I’m staying here with Vadim,” she said, her voice suddenly cold. “I’m not leaving him alone.”

  With Ion’s trembling body between us, Miro and I led him to the front entrance and up to Evie’s apartment. I settled him at the kitchen table and placed a glass of water to his lips, forcing him to drink. It wasn’t a tisane, but it was the best I could do.

  Footsteps sounded on the front stairs. I ran to the door, irrationally hoping Brandon’s and Gavin’s deaths meant my parents could return. I threw it open to find Evie and Seralina wearing identical expressions of barely suppressed rage.

  Seralina spoke first. “Where is my son?”

  I silently pointed her toward the kitchen. She took off down the hall without another word.

  Evie took me by the shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened? I was standing there dripping blood into a chalice when Dobra started shouting that you were gone. I called you from the apartment and Ion picked up. I
got here as fast as I could.”

  “It was Brandon. He killed his father, and he took my parents. I think he would have killed them, too, but he needed them alive because he wasn’t sure my transition started.”

  Evie looked like she had a thousand questions, but when she spoke there was only one. “Where are they now?”

  “I don’t know,” I said tearfully. “I couldn’t get him to say, and now he’s dead.” When I finished, she wrapped her arms around my body and held me. I could tell she wasn’t used to close contact—my cheek awkwardly pressed against her heart, the only place not covered in metal. Exhaustion finally quelled the adrenaline racing through my system, and I collapsed fully against her, Evie’s strong arms holding me up.

  “I saw the demon out back. I’m sorry for that,” she said, her voice tight. “I should have killed it yesterday. It must have been half-crazed to break out of that closet.”

  “Brandon sent him,” I said. “The demon was after Brandon.”

  “So do you think Lupe and Ryan are still alive?” she asked, her voice daring to hope.

  “I think so,” I replied. “I can feel them.”

  “And Brandon didn’t say anything that might help us find them?”

  “No,” I said, forcing myself to step away from her. Failure, immense and insurmountable, crushed me. “They could be anywhere.”

  “It doesn’t mean we won’t find them,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

  I held up my wrist. “When I used magic I felt stronger and more in control than I’ve ever felt, but it means nothing if it can’t help me find my mom and dad.”

  Evie nodded solemnly. She took my hand in hers, turning the talisman. “Lupe had faith you could figure out where it was. Breeda, I—” She froze.

  I saw it, too. A thick, black line crossed the middle of the blue stone, breaking through the white star.

  Evie gasped. “Oh, no,” she said. “No, no, no.”

  My stomach sank with dread. The feeling worsened as Ion’s groans reached us, followed by a wail of pure agony. I pushed my sadness to the side and tore into the kitchen.

  Seralina and Ion were alone. She crouched beside him, murmuring soothing nonsense words. When she saw us, she rose, keeping one hand on his shoulder. “I assume both Brandon and Gavin are dead,” she said icily. “The hold must have broken. Ion’s transitioning full force. Your friend is here, is she not? The one who makes tisanes? She must make him one under my direction.”

  Ion whimpered. Purple bruises surrounded his eyes, the color nearly black against his chalky skin.

  Seralina’s viselike grip encased my wrist. She traced one crimson nail along the black line marring my talisman. “After today, you are not to see him ever again. You will not spread your darkness to him.”

  “Seralina,” Evie said. “Breeda’s not responsible for Ion.”

  Ion’s eyes blinked open. He clawed at the cord hanging around his neck, the one holding his ruby talisman.

  Seralina gasped as the stone cracked in half and a line of black oozed into the open space. “No!” she screamed. “No!” With a shriek she lunged at me. A second before I touched my talisman, Evie got between us, prying Seralina’s hands from my throat.

  Evie pushed Seralina against the counter. “Hysterics will not help him. We’re going to bring him into the bedroom, and do the best we can for him. Understand?” Seralina’s gaze still darted angrily in my direction, but she nodded.

  Evie let her go, and the two of them lifted Ion. “Get your friend up here,” Seralina snapped as they carried him into my parents’ bedroom. “Now.”

  Torn between wanting to help Ion and leaving Shelley alone with Vadim, I headed back to the yard. My hand absently brushed the bracelet that held my talisman. It was so easy now to inflict pain. One touch and a life could end. I hadn’t understood the power until I felt its push. Not only did I want to hurt Seralina—I would have if Evie hadn’t stepped in. The line between the right choice and wrong choice was mine to cross. Survival would win out, just as Evie said.

  I walked in the yard to find Vadim’s body gone, and Miro standing at the back gate. Dobra sat in the driver’s seat of a beat-up black van. Shelley stared at me for a moment before climbing into the back. The window rolled down as I approached. “Haven’t you done enough?” Dobra called to me. “I have to take this boy for a proper burial. His talisman must be destroyed.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, before walking to the open back of the van. Vadim lay across Shelley’s lap, as though he were taking a nap. The sight cut directly into my heart. “What is it?” she asked, her voice lacking inflection.

  I decided to let the decision be hers. “Ion’s transitioning. Hard. He needs a tisane.”

  “She has no responsibility to you or any of your people,” Dobra said, turning the ignition.

  “Wait,” Shelley ordered. She gently placed Vadim’s head on floor of the van, and slid out. “I can’t help Vadim, but I can still help Ion.”

  Dobra’s eyes nearly popped from his skull. “Get back in this car,” he demanded.

  “I won’t have his death on my conscience.”

  The guilt Shelley’s words sparked made my knees weak. I had a death on my conscience now.

  Shelley walked past Miro and me without looking at either of us, and up to the apartment. Dobra drove away.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “So, so sorry. I keep saying it because I want you to believe it.”

  Miro’s silence was only bearable because he’d pulled me against him, tilting my face toward his. In that moment I realized what made his eyes unusual were not only their color, but the depth of pain within them. I felt it in myself now, and I could recognize it.

  “You saved me from making a choice,” he said, “and killed someone you cared about. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

  “But . . . Vadim.”

  “Brandon killed Vadim, not you.” He brought his head forward to meet mine. “I understand feeling guilty, but if you let it, guilt will eat you alive and pick its teeth with your bones. Promise me you won’t let that happen to you.”

  “You know I can’t make that kind of promise.”

  He held me for a while. My emotions temporarily soothed, my mind drifted to my parents. I searched my memory for what had happened, hoping to discover something I’d missed about them. I leaned back to address Miro. “How did you know where I went?”

  “You didn’t have many options, did you?” he answered softly.

  Neither did Brandon. Where did he stay in this city? He hadn’t tried to take my magic right away because Ion had told him I’d only just begun to transition. Until then, he’d probably been trying to figure out what would spark it. Had he taken my parents thinking it would force my transition?

  My mother and father weren’t dead—I still felt their magic tying me to them. Did Brandon know unmarked witches had a strong blood connection to their parents?

  Dobra’s words came back to me. The closer a parent is to a child, the stronger the transition.

  So Brandon somehow knew he had to keep them close, but not so close that I’d find them. When he’d taken them, he assumed I’d stay at Evie’s apartment, but Vadim had shown up. And Brandon would have expected me to search there. He’d hide them somewhere I wouldn’t think to look.

  I gasped. “Miro, they’re in the church!”

  CHAPTER 37

  We ran, breathless, up the steps to St. Sylvester’s and pounded on the heavy doors. After a few minutes, Father Brennan answered, his shock of white hair standing straight up off his head.

  “Do you still feel the magic in this building?” I asked him quickly.

  “Yes,” he said, yawning. “Did you come to clear it? At this hour?”

  “Sort of. Is there anywhere in the church where people don’t usually go? Any private rooms?”

  I was frantic, talking too fast, and Father Brennan blanched. “What’s going on, Breeda?”

  “My parents were taken, and I
think they’re in the church somewhere.”

  “Not possible,” Father Brennan said. “Witches living in a church?”

  “Will you let us look?” Miro asked. “We won’t take long.” He took my hand. “We wouldn’t ask unless we thought they were here. And if they are here, the magic isn’t going to go away.”

  Father Brennan thought for a moment. “The basement is pretty cavernous, though I expect the bingo ladies would have found them. Those women could find a feather in a snowstorm.”

  “Could you take us there?” I asked. “Please?”

  Father Brennan led us down to a well-kept but empty basement.

  “There’s got to be somewhere else,” I insisted.

  “Maybe they’re not here,” Miro said quietly.

  “No,” I said, fighting tears, “I can feel them. I really can.”

  “There is a small room in the tower leading to the spire,” Father Brennan said kindly. “We could have a look.”

  Miro looked confused. “The what?”

  “The pointy thing you can see from blocks away,” Father Brennan said, his blue eyes amused. “But it might be locked. No one goes up there.”

  “I don’t need a key,” I assured him. “Please just show us where it is.”

  We followed the priest back to the front of the church, where we filed down a corridor and up a narrow staircase. I kept tripping on Father Brennan’s heels in my haste. When we got to the top, I used my mother’s precious gift to open the door.

  I saw their talismans first, my heart beating in my throat. The talismans hung from a pipe, tangled together. A window leading to the church’s roof was open. Brandon’s escape route.

  My parents lay in the middle of the room.

  They were shackled back to back, wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle. My mother’s dark hair fanned over my father’s shoulder. His head drooped against the floor. Neither of them appeared to be breathing.

  “Mom! Dad!” I dove beside them, grasping my talisman to break their binds. Their breathing was labored and shallow, and their eyes closed. I threw myself over their bodies, crying, begging them to come around. “Please. Please.”