Saved by the Spell (Of Mystics and Mayhem Book 2)

by Heidi Vanlandingham

  “Where are we?” The clearing where we now stood was good-sized, but it wasn’t big enough to build a house in. The gnarled trees pinning us inside looked ancient and had grown close enough together to form a massive wall. Long branches stretched overhead, thick layers of green leaves creating a ceiling high above us. The star-filled sky peeked through a hole in the center, maybe the size of a beachball.

  My chest felt tighter than normal, as if something pressed against me. Maybe I was claustrophobic? Had I been in a small space before? Although calling this place small was a bit of a stretch, even for me.

  “These trees make the California Redwoods look like saplings,” I whispered in awe. My gaze moved along the dark tree trunks. Surely, the tallest building in the world could fit inside the base of a single tree. I sucked air through my slightly open lips—one breath, then two. My tongue felt swollen and cottony and stuck to the roof of my mouth. I had the sudden urge to run in the opposite direction and had no idea why. Everything surrounding me felt foreign. Nothing felt right in this surreal place.

  “Where’s the fire and brimstone?” My voice sounded scratchy and out of sorts as I glanced around the circle of faces, wishing I had a glass of water. “Come on, this isn’t rocket science. We’re in Hell, so where are the fire and brimstone? The horrible demons punishing the wicked for their eternal sins? I went to Sunday school and paid attention.” I threw my arms out in a wide arc to encompass the lush surroundings. “The Garden of Eden is not Hell. This looks more like a vacation postcard.” A subtle yet delicious smell hung in the air and my anxiety tripled, an attack imminent.

  Johnna laughed. “That’s what I said when I first arrived.”

  Malachi’s warm breath caressed my ear as he whispered, “Relax, kitten. This is the Garden. The realms are all part of the universe parallel to Earth’s. After Adam and Eve—”

  I groaned. “Oh goody. A history lesson. If you want me to remember anything you say, keep it short.” I didn’t think my brain could hold much more information. I was already on overload.

  Malachi continued, ignoring my interruption. “After they ate from the Tree of Knowledge, God led them.” He raised his hands and made air quotes with his fingers. “Through the doorway between here and the Mortal Realm.”

  “He created hundreds, possibly thousands, of realms and dimensions,” Niki added. “Think of it like an onion. The more layers you peel, the deeper you travel into the bulb.”

  My excitement grew. The explanation made complete sense. “I always wondered where Adam’s first wife—the one the Bible calls Lilith—came from. Also, if Adam and Eve were the first people, why were there already towns filled with people when God banished them from the Garden?”

  Malachi’s brows rose. “I’m impressed. Most people don’t catch the small inconsistencies in the Bible.”

  “It’s full of inconsistencies—it was written by man. Why isn’t any of this—Dark World and the other species—in the Bible?”

  Johnna laughed. “Christians today read the Bible as a literal history lesson instead of realizing the stories were from the ancients’ oral traditions, passed from generation to generation. If someone had written about alternate universes and doorways to different realms, science fiction wouldn’t have had quite the same impact.”

  She stared at the three of us, and I figured our expressions must have blanked out. “What?” She shrugged. “Dad has a lot of books.”

  Clearing his throat, Malachi broke the silence. “Evidently.” His slanted grin gave him an ornery, little boy look. I mimicked him when his gaze met mine. He winked. My heart fluttered, full of imaginary butterflies. I cursed my traitorous body. I was not some weak-kneed schoolgirl with her first crush. Well, maybe so, but I was stronger than that. I dropped my gaze to my sneakers. Wasn’t I?

  “Johnna’s right,” he continued, completely unaware of the chaos ravaging my body. “Here, we are safe. This realm is neutral, and any who seek refuge are welcome here. As soon as the escort arrives, we will meet with Lucien at the Bastille.”

  I stared at him. “The Bastille? Like in France—where they kept all the prisoners?” I forced my gaze away and shivered, the growing shadows tucked beneath each tree making me nervous. “What’s taking our escort so long to get here? Can’t they pop in like you all do or are they going the scenic route?”

  “The Bastille may look somewhat close to the one in France but the Watchers—”

  “The who?” I met Johnna’s worried gaze. My concern increased when Niki slowly turned, his scary golden eyes capturing mine. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut. Thinking that was probably a good idea, I focused on Malachi.

  “The Watchers are Dark World’s protectors, or guardians,” he said. “The Bastille can be a prison, but normally, it’s Guardian headquarters and their home.”

  “No one should have to live in a prison.” I thought a second, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh at what I’d said. “Well, other than prisoners.” The chilly night air caressed my skin, goose bumps prickling everywhere it touched. I scraped the toe of one shoe across the top of the grass, enjoying the thick, springy surface. The barest hint of its bitter scent blended with a faint odor of cooking meat somewhere deeper in the dense forest.

  The smell was succulent in all its mouthwatering glory. My stomach rumbled, an indication of the riot going on inside it. I grinned at the three droll faces staring at me. “It seems like forever since I last ate. I’m surprised my insides even remember how to work.”

  Niki chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Your body is simply waking back up.”

  I groaned. “There are a few bodily functions I wish would stay asleep.” I glanced at Johnna. “Wanna try your woo-woo thing? Like a permanent sleeping pill so they’ll stay asleep?”

  “Excuse me? My what?” Johnna looked confused. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

  It was my turn to flounder. “Huh? I was talking about your magic. What did you think I was talking about?”

  Johnna’s mouth twisted to one side. “It’s kind of . . . kind of like a sexual thing now.”

  “Oh, dear lords, how long was I in that horrid realm? A century? In my day, movies and books said ‘woo-woo’ for magic all the time.” I dropped my heated face into my palms, horrified and embarrassed.

  Johnna laughed. “In your day? Seriously? You’re about the same age I am.”

  “Woo-woo thing?” Malachi barked out a deep rumbling laugh, making me want to join him. Almost. His laughter reverberated in my own chest. The scared feeling I’d carried in me for so long began to fade. Before I could decide if I was still embarrassed or ready to let go and laugh with him, his rolling laughter abruptly stopped, and he pointed to the tree line behind Johnna. “Our escort has arrived.”

  My gaze traveled down his finger to where he pointed, and I waited for the escort to appear from behind the rock statues I’d missed seeing when we arrived. The statues reminded me of pictures I’d seen of medieval European castles and cathedrals—just larger. I wracked my brain to remember what they were called.

  “You’re right, they are gargoyles,” Malachi whispered.

  “Stop doing that,” I hissed. “It isn’t right. Normal people don’t read each other’s minds.” As the minutes ticked by and still no one appeared, my impatience began showing as I rocked nervously. “Why are there statues way out here?” I asked in a louder voice. “And where’s the escort? I don’t see them.”

  Johnna’s chuckle almost drowned Niki’s sigh. “No, silly. The gargoyle statues are the escort. The Garden is in the Watcher Realm. They are the guardians—among other things.”

  I felt stupid.

  The warmth of Malachi’s hand wrapping around the back of my neck calmed my nerves, but it was his melodic voice settling my mind.

  You are fine, kitten. It takes ti
me to learn everything.

  I concentrated on the comforting touch of his hand and tried not to question why he never said the really sweet things out loud, then quickly dismissed the immature thought. Why was I even asking myself the question? I didn’t want him talking to me like that at all, right? I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  As a group, we moved toward the statues. The closer we got to the beings, the more amazed I became. Each gargoyle could have been meticulously sculpted from granite, every curve and line perfect. My gaze followed the rock-hard bulges of their arm and leg muscles and swallowed the quick laugh tickling the back of my throat at the pun. Muscles . . . rocks. I cracked myself up.

  I stared into the gargoyles’ faces. Instead of hunchbacked and ugly, these beings were regal in every sense of the word. I felt humbled. In unison, the three Watchers rose from their squatted position to stand tall in front of me. So very tall. I’d guess they were probably seven feet, if not taller.

  My gaze traveled upward, and my mouth dropped open. They wore skintight breeches tucked into heavy, black boots. Black tunics hung to the tops of their thighs and were cinched at the waist by a thin metal belt. At first glance, I thought they all wore some sort of athletic shirt, but as we drew closer, I realized the material wasn’t the same but shinier, and reminded me of the mithril shirt Frodo wore in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Instead of a woven material, it seemed as if there were thousands of teensy rings linked together. I wanted to ask if their shirts were as strong as the hobbit’s but didn’t think they’d be receptive. The guardians themselves reminded me of the elves, Legolas or Thranduil, but much more.

  When I stared up into their faces, all other thoughts disappeared. They were even more handsome than Niki and Malachi. In all honesty, they were beautiful. “Oh lordy, but you guys are tall. Like giant movie stars or something. Can you play basketball? I’m sure there are a few teams back home that would love to get their hands on you.”

  “No, child,” the leading gargoyle rumbled, his voice surprisingly quiet. Each word had a definite gravelly sound, like stones tumbling in the back of his throat. “Our time is not for games.”

  The other two remained about a foot behind him. The one to his right seemed impatient, his motions subtle, a slight twitching from one foot to the other as his muscles tensed and released in his impatience. The shortest of the three stood so still, I wondered if he truly was alive when his silvery gaze impaled me like a drill bit, puncturing my internal organs and grinding them together in one furious twist.

  His eyes widened, as if I had somehow surprised him. A minute passed, his continued stare making me nervous. I stepped back against Malachi, who immediately pulled me to his side and tucked me under his arm. The gargoyle, however, didn’t seem fazed by Malachi’s protective gesture. His piercing stare never wavered.

  “It seems you have an admirer,” Johnna murmured in my ear.

  “I’m not so sure. It feels more like I’m his next meal,” I whispered out the corner of my mouth.

  Her throaty chuckle calmed my clanging nerves. “Been there, done that. Don’t worry. I don’t see hunger, but he’s definitely curious about you.”

  I tuned in to the conversation going on between the Watcher leader, Niki, and Malachi.

  “. . . at the king’s command,” the gargoyle said. “The succubi emissary had not returned upon our departure.”

  Niki nodded once, in agreement with whatever was being discussed. “Good. Lucien wanted us at the Bastille before her return. How far away are we?”

  “About ten minutes.” The gargoyle pointed in the direction they’d come from. “There’s a pathway through the trees leading directly to the front door.”

  Malachi frowned. “Why would we need an escort then? If we’re close, surely we could’ve managed on our own?”

  The gargoyle, who still stared at me, answered without looking away or blinking. “You would not have made it through our protection barrier. Nothing passes through the barrier unless we wish it.” I exhaled in relief when he finally turned his gaze to Malachi. “Nothing.”

  That was food for thought. Why single out Malachi? Did they already know each other? I filed away the question for later as we fell into step behind our new guides. For their size, these creatures were graceful and flowing, yet they exuded a great strength. No, maybe it was more like a deathly power hovered around us.

  We entered the dark forest. I inhaled, drawing the rich loamy scents deep into my lungs. Damp dirt blended with the heavy musk of evergreens. My mouth watered. I could all but taste the nuts growing in heavy clumps everywhere I looked. Dark-shelled pecans, deep brown hazelnuts, and the pale, spiky pods of chestnuts already splitting in half as the inside fruit ripened.

  Beautiful bushes in varying shades of green filled in the treeless spaces. Branches drooped from their abundance, tucked in between the dense leaves. The blended sweet scents of hyacinth, almond, and maybe a hundred other flowers plugged my nose. I was on scent overload.

  After living so long in the colorless drudgery of the Nightmare Realm, I had found heaven.

  Chapter 13

  Time stood still again, but I didn’t care. There had never been a single instance in my life when I’d felt this relaxed. So relaxed in fact, my attention was not on where I was going, and I ended up tripping over a rock the size of my fist. The moment my gaze landed on where we were headed, I immediately forgot about my pain and swallowed the ‘ouch’ poised on the tip of my tongue. The sight before us could have been a picture straight out of a medieval storybook.

  The Bastille was beyond magnificent. Stone turrets flanked each corner of the castle’s roof. There were four levels of windows, but only those on the ground-level were stained glass. On this side of the castle, the only side I could actually see, brilliant colors glistened as the fading sunlight touched the richer colors decorating the visible windows.

  Walking across a plush carpet of deep teal grass, I studied the nearest one. Heavy, dark-gray lead divided the window into four horizontal rows. Opalescent colors swirled together, a muted kaleidoscope behind the sections, each containing a different biblical scene. They looked biblical to me, but all I had to go by was a vague memory from a long-ago Sunday school class.

  I examined the first three scenes in haste, but it was the bottom right scene holding my attention. I was fascinated by a pearlescent white figure shrouded by a pale-yellow glow. The person stood in front of a brilliant blue backdrop surrounded by coppery brambles. The picture spoke to something deep inside of me. So much love and hope poured through me.

  Our pace quickened through the massive wooden doors, darkened with age. Seeking reassurance and, without thinking, I laced my fingers through Malachi’s as we turned to our immediate right and entered a narrow, stone hallway. Our footsteps clunked across the gray stone floor. My gaze was drawn again to the window where faint hues of blues and greens shimmered on the stone floor, reminding me of sunlight glinting on the ocean’s surface. Their simplistic beauty was mesmerizing and ethereal. The rounded stone ceilings and walls created a syncopated cadence of echoes as our small procession marched along.

  An occasional silk tapestry lined the walls with scenes of life during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Their colors were soft yet vibrant, like they had been woven recently instead of seven hundred years ago, if their age could be judged by the depicted scenes. As I passed the last tapestry, the prominent characters caught my eye, and my steps slowed.

  Soft, billowy clouds surrounded three groups of beings. They were all beautiful and how I’d always imagined angels would look. Except for the middle group. Those men wore old-fashioned, light-colored military-styled clothes, down to their boots. Not very practical, in my opinion, but then the weaver hadn’t asked me.

  Sprinkled throughout were tall women and a few muscle-bound soldiers who sported armor. The crest on their tunics
seemed familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before. My eyes narrowed as I studied the men surrounding the first group. They, too, wore military clothing, but the likeness ended there with their black pants and dark purple pirate-looking shirts and boots. For some strange reason, this group of men scared me, although why I couldn’t say. It was only a tapestry. I did notice these men were just as beautiful as the others.

  I squinted, leaning closer until my nose practically touched the ancient weave. And gasped. Their solid black eyes held death.

  A soft tug on my arm brought my focus back to the present, and I stumbled after Malachi, my hand still held in his strong grip, as he pulled me back beside him and into a side cloister. My attention, however, remained on the tapestry.

  I started to ask Malachi about it, but a rich baritone voice filled my ears. With my mouth still wide open, I turned my head toward the speaker. Just like every other male I’d met, the man standing in the entryway was a total hunk—

  With horns.

  I snapped my mouth shut. Another demon. Figures. Just my luck, instead of gorgeous firefighters, I got demons. Where had I gone so wrong?

  Johnna squealed and rushed forward, pushing me out of her way. I watched her dive at the poor man, a force of nature in full motion, but he didn’t even twitch.

  “Lucien—my king,” Niki and Malachi said in unison and bowed in an elegant, old-world way. How was I supposed to act much less talk to royalty? I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t blurt out something I’d later regret and hoped he wouldn’t notice me. Pretending I was only the size of a mouse, I edged back and tried to hide behind Malachi.

  The king smiled down at Johnna and a lump formed in my throat. I’d never seen such love in someone’s eyes. Not even between Tish and her mom, and I knew they loved each other.