Spandex, Spells and Shadows

by Melinda Chase

  The elf kept on leering, and I followed his gaze down the hallway, where a muscular man carrying what looked like a massive sack was marching. He came closer and closer, and finally, I could see that he didn’t have a sack on his shoulders- he had a person.

  A familiar person.

  “Tanya!” I gasped. I slapped my hands over my mouth before I was reminded that he couldn’t hear me.

  The man walked right past me, and I could see that Tanya was unconscious over his shoulder. He swung open the iron door of the cell next to the elf’s and then dumped her inside. It rang metallically as it slammed shut, reminding everyone of its strength and power.

  “Get back from the bars,” the man growled, slamming his fist at the door to the elf’s cell.

  “Yes, of course, hunter.” Sarcasm coated the elf’s voice, but I couldn’t even appreciate his little quip, because I was too stuck on what he’d called the man.

  Hunter.

  The hunters had Tanya. Which meant I needed to get her back, and fast.

  14

  I was at the hotel again. I was sure that, by this point, the poor valet was absolutely exhausted with my inability to show up there like a normal person. Once again, I handed him my key and hurriedly took the ticket before rushing all the way up to Hunter’s room. This time, I only got about a knock out on the door when it swung open.

  “Twice in one day. I must be a lucky guy,” he grinned.

  “We don’t have time for flirting,” I told him, not thinking my words through. I didn’t even have the mental capacity to be slightly embarrassed at what I’d said, because I was way too focused on Tanya.

  “What’s going on?” He instantly read the tone of my voice, moving aside so I could come in the room before he closed the door tightly behind us.

  “Nothing good,” I sighed. “We need to break your curse. And then you’ve got to help me go on a rescue mission.”

  It only took Hunter about two seconds to piece together everything I was saying.

  “No,” he groaned, sitting on the edge of his bed and shoving his face in his hands. “They got her, didn’t they?”

  “Yes,” I nodded, even though he still couldn’t see me. “I can’t figure out how, exactly. The only thing that comes to mind is that they were watching my house, and they saw her come and leave like that. She let off magic when we did that spell, and you said—”

  “We track the fae through their magic, yeah, I know,” he sighed. “You’re probably right. That’s just how they operate, too. Shit! I can’t believe I didn’t see it!”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” I urged. “You’ve been a bit caught up with other things lately.”

  “I should have seen it.” The gruffness in his tone wasn’t directed toward me, but it made my heart ache nonetheless.

  “I found the spell.” I pulled the paper from my pocket and laid it on his leg. “I need you to decide if you’re comfortable going through with it.”

  “Comfortable?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. But then, he glanced down and read it quickly. I knew exactly when he got to the section on side effects, too, because he tilted his head, sucked in a breath, and gave one serious nod.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’d rather die doing this than die by the Council’s forced hand, anyways.”

  I paused for a second, watching his expression for any sign of doubt or regret. But there were none. Instead, I only saw a quiet determination.

  I couldn't imagine what it would be like to live your life enslaved to another, having to bend to their will even when you loathed the order.

  “Let’s go,” I said instead of voicing my thoughts. “My car is in the parking lot.”

  We managed to get my Prius back and climb inside without getting too many strange looks. The valet clearly thought we were psychos when he saw Hunter talking to me while looking at a concrete column in front of him, but other than that, we bypassed all of the regular people.

  I slammed through the front door of my house less than five minutes later, thanks to my rather amazing driving skills. Judging by the green tint to his skin, Hunter didn’t quite agree with my assessment, but I didn’t have time for guilt.

  “Shannon, how are y— what’s going on?” Mom’s tone instantly shifted from her usual placidity to one of absolute shock as she looked between Hunter and I wildly.

  “Hi, Elle,” Hunter lifted a tired hand.

  “Don’t ‘hi, Elle’ me,” Mom hissed. “You are not supposed to be anywhere near her. What if you—”

  “Mom, I have the spell!” I announced, cutting her off before she could jump off the diving board and into the deep end of a pool full of worry. “Everything’s going to be fine. We just need to make a potion out of this.”

  Mom took the list from me and stared down at it, while Grams appeared right behind her. The old woman narrowed her green eyes and looked between Hunter and I, then pursed her lips and shrugged.

  “I trust you won’t kill my granddaughter,” she said to Hunter.

  His gray eyes went wide and he nodded furiously. “No ma’am, I won’t.”

  Grams was the most intimidating one out of all of us, that much was for sure.

  “Mama, we gotta get all this stuff from the shed,” Mom said, shoving the list into Grams’ hands and sweeping past her into the backyard. “Marcella really was the best with potions. She should be here.”

  “Did I hear my name?” A loud pop followed the words, and then Marcella appeared right in front of us, dressed to the nines in a sleek black evening gown and grinning from ear to ear. “I knew you’d figure this out, Shannon.”

  “No thanks to you,” Grams grumbled.

  “Adora, I am here now, am I not?” Marcella replied before she snatched the list from Mom’s hands. “Yes, yes, alright now.”

  “Do you know how to do this?” Hunter asked.

  Marcella looked back up at him with a single eyebrow raised. “Yes.”

  “Have you done one before?” Mom demanded, knowing the old witch far too well.

  “Negative, darling Elle,” Marcella replied, lifting one finger high in the air. “But, we have no other choice. Now, we need an entire coven to do this. Do you have anyone you could call?”

  “Negative, darling,” Mom replied with just a hint of snoot in her voice.

  “Dear, dear.” Marcella rubbed her temples in thought before she finally shrugged. “Well, I suppose the four of us will have to do. Unless you might be able to call a friend over?”

  She was looking right at me, but I was absolutely in the dark. I didn’t have friends in Portland yet.

  “Perhaps someone you met at a library recently?”

  “Oh, yes!” I gasped, realizing she meant Lemon Drop. “Let me call her.”

  Sure enough, the purple-haired witch was more than happy to come and help though, truth be told, I wasn’t sure if the draw was being of service, or the fact that she was able to meet a real life, flesh and blood hunter.

  Either way, I’d take it.

  “This is so exciting!” She squealed when she pulled up in her car.

  I’d have to remember to ask Marcella just why she seemed to be the only witch who was able to just appear and disappear like that.

  “Very much so,” I groaned. “Thanks for bringing the cauldron. Ours was too big, apparently.”

  I hadn’t even realized that could be a thing. But, according to Marcella, the cauldron used to make this ritual potion had to be very small so as not to let any of the magic escape.

  “Oh, no problem,” she shrugged. “So, where is he?”

  “Who?” I asked absently, lugging the cauldron across the grass. I didn’t realize something so small could be so darn heavy.

  “The hunter!” Lemon Drop replied, as if it was totally obvious.

  “He’s right here,” Hunter’s voice boomed out across the grass, and I would have given all of my limbs to have had a picture of Lemon Drop’s shocked and embarrassed face right in that moment. Her ivory skin turned beet re
d, and her golden eyes widened so much I was afraid they would literally pop out of her sockets. “I’m Hunter.”

  He strode across the lawn to her, hand outstretched in greeting.

  “Uh, hi,” she babbled. “I’m, uh, I’m…. My name is…”

  “Lemon Drop,” I supplied. “Lemon, this is Hunter.”

  “Huh, a hunter named Hunter,” she giggled.

  “Yep, I get that all the time,” he grimaced. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Can’t turn down a friend,” she shrugged.

  We all went back into the shed, where Grams was already stoking a strange blue fire.

  “We have to make it extremely hot for this potion to work,” she explained when she saw me looking a little funny at it. “The ritual calls for a burning of the bond. This is the burning.”

  Anxiously, I glanced over at Hunter, who was staring at the blue flames with nervous trepidation. I was suddenly filled with doubt as I watched him watch the flames. I didn’t know if I wanted him to go through with this.

  Maybe we could find another way.

  Grams noticed Hunter’s expression, too, and put down the wooden ladle she was using to stir. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

  Hunter looked up at us in surprise, as if he was shocked we’d even ask him what he wanted. That saddened me a little, to know that he was probably very unused to being asked if he wanted to do something.

  “Yes,” he nodded sternly. “I don’t want this bond anymore. I don’t want to… I just don’t want it.”

  He glanced over at me with clear gray eyes, and I knew exactly what had gone unsaid. He didn’t want to accidentally kill me because the orders possessed him. Obviously, I didn’t want that, either.

  “Good,” Grams replied, turning back to the potion and allowing us a moment.

  “This spell makes me nervous,” I whispered to him as I watched the other witches prepare. Marcella had Lemon Drop on chopping duty, and had given her three birch branches and a piece of hemlock to finely dice, while she and Mom gathered the rest of the ingredients.

  Hunter glanced over in the direction of my voice, still unable to make eye contact seeing as I was still invisible to him, and considered my statement. I was glad he didn’t just attempt to calm me down immediately, the way some other men might have. He felt the same fear I did, but he just hid it well.

  “Me too,” he admitted. “But there’s no other way.”

  “I don’t want you to risk your life just to save mine.”

  “Shannon, let’s go outside.” He held his hand out, and I took it, allowing him to lead me out of the shed and into the shade of our massive willow tree.

  Hunter tilted his head skyward, watching as the rays of the sun turned orange and spiked out across the blue, striping it like a strange colored zebra.

  “When you were married to Kenneth, how did you feel?” He asked.

  Not sure where he was going with this, I decided that honesty was the best policy.

  “Like I was tethered to something that was dying,” I replied. “Even if I didn’t want to admit it.”

  “Right,” he sighed. “Now, imagine holding onto that tether for a hundred years. It’s your lifeline. You know you’ll die without it. Until, one day, you walk in the door and see that your tether is boinking his assistant. But, imagine in this scenario that the assistant is evil. She’s a serial killer, maybe, or a psychopath with delusions of world domination. How would you feel?”

  “Right now, I feel like your metaphors are sorely lacking,” I replied, attempting to cover up how I really felt.

  But, just as it always did with Hunter, my tone betrayed me. He just nodded, once, then shoved his hands in his pockets and started to pace in a slow, easy circle.

  “You and I both know the answer,” he replied. “You’d do anything to get out of there, and away from the evil. This is my anything, Shannon.”

  He made a good point. The man was a damned good speaker, and I was sure one day I’d appreciate it. But right now, I was too filled with regret to see it for what it was.

  I regretted finding the spell. I regretted even bringing it up in the first place. And the only reason I didn’t voice that regret, didn’t rip up the spell and tip over the cauldron, was because I knew that without Hunter, we’d never find the Council’s disgusting little fae prison. And if he was still bonded to them when we got there, we’d have a host of issues on our hands.

  “If you die, Hunter, I swear to you I will drag your corpse from its grave just to murder you myself. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Shannon,” he chuckled.

  15

  “It’s almost ready!” Grams called out across the yard, startling both of us out of whatever quiet moment we were sharing.

  I looked over at Hunter’s face and saw he’d set it in the same stony expression I was used to seeing. By now, I knew why he did it. That expression was a mask to hide when he was afraid of something.

  And I knew this potion terrified him. It wasn’t just the idea of sucking down a liquid meant to burn a part of him away. No matter how brave any person was, how many times they’d looked death in the face and laughed, and no matter how well prepared to die they thought they were, the very idea of ceasing to exist would terrify almost anybody.

  “You can do this,” I murmured, slipping my hand in his own. He clenched right back, almost painfully so, but I didn’t complain.

  It wasn’t lost on me that, at some point, we’d gone from a strange, heated friendship to something easier and more real. Something loving.

  But that wasn’t what deserved my focus right then.

  We stepped into the shed, where the other four were already standing, circled around the small cauldron and its equally tiny flame.

  “Stand here,” Marcella ordered Hunter, pointing at the space next to the little cauldron. She then turned to me, and indicated the spot next to her.

  Nervous anticipation grew inside of me as I followed her lead. I had no idea what to expect from a ritualistic spell as powerful as this one. The dream spell had been the biggest one I’d ever done, and it hadn’t exactly turned out so well.

  “Oh, my!” Lemon Drop gasped when Marcella picked up one of our silver knives. It was a pretty one, with a carved handle and a curved tip.

  But it was also deadly sharp. I could tell just by looking that the blade could probably slice through bone in no time flat.

  Mom glared at Lemon for a second, letting her know that the commentary was unnecessary. The purple haired woman dropped her eyes to the floor, but I could see her flicking them up every once in a while to catch a glimpse at what Marcella was doing.

  The tall witch walked toward Hunter, her black evening gown swishing with every tiny movement, and held a hand out.

  “Give me yours,” she ordered quietly.

  Hunter did so without question, and he barely even winced as she dug the blade into his palm, drawing dark beads of red blood immediately.

  Now, it was my turn to gasp. Thankfully, Mom was too distracted with her grimacing to give me a glare. I had to shut my own eyes or I was afraid I might puke from the sight. I’d seen grittier things every day for fifteen years, but none of that prepares a woman for watching blood pour out of the man she might love.

  “Sanguinemian de lo Hunter,” Marcella intoned. Her brown eyes flashed as she tipped Hunter’s palm over the bubbling blue potion.

  His blood spilled out like a terrifying river, plopping into the blue liquid and hissing as it went. I watched as the blue color faded away, slowly becoming darker and darker, until the liquid was as black as the night.

  It looked the exact opposite of appetizing, but I said nothing, and simply watched. This was not my territory, and, judging by the looks on Mom’s and Grams’ faces, it wasn’t exactly theirs either.

  Marcella finished spilling at least half the blood in Hunter’s body into the cauldron, and she healed his palm up nicely before she stepped back, laying the blade back down on
the table in the corner.

  “Join hands,” she murmured to the witches. We did as she asked.

  Mom was on one side of me, and Lemon Drop was on the other. I gripped their hands tightly in both of mine, though I knew I was about to pop the bones out of Mom’s poor hand. She said nothing, and squeezed me back with equal intensity, as if to let me know everything was going to be okay.

  “Drop this in the potion when we start chanting,” Marcella instructed Hunter, handing him a bright red bird’s feather.

  “A Phoenix feather,” he murmured, turning it over and over in his hand.

  “For rebirth,” Marcella replied, giving him a serious nod. Something in her expression, maybe the set of her lips or the furrow of her brow, gave me the distinct feeling that a phoenix feather was not originally a part of the spell.

  Rebirth.

  The word echoed in my head. Of course Marcella would be brilliant enough to add it in. Hopefully it would ensure that Hunter didn’t die tonight.

  “Repeat after me,” Marcella said darkly.

  The spell was beginning.

  I steadied myself, shifting on my feet to remind myself that I was still on solid ground, and pulled my shoulders back. This would work.

  It had to.

  “Perdere vinculum,” Marcella intoned.

  Quickly, the four of us followed suit, and we began to chant, over and over again. I kept my eyes on Hunter, but he was staring at the potion, turning the feather in his hands and brushing the tiny little hairs as if to bring himself comfort.

  After a moment, he seemed to make a decision. He set his shoulders back in a similar way to me, and dropped the phoenix feather in.

  Immediately, there was a great sizzling sound, followed by a roar like the ocean waves crashing to shore. The potion sprang up from the cauldron and twisted around and around in the air, knotting itself together and then coming undone, before it plopped back down in the cauldron without spilling a single drop.

  I forced myself to keep chanting as the fear grew.

  Hunter turned to me, hesitant and unsure.

  “Shannon,” he started to say, but before another word could come out of his mouth, he let loose a massive groan and doubled over.