Spell Tricked
Page 17
He looks at us, his eyes so human within his crumbling face. And what I see is defiance, until the bitter end.
When he is nothing more than particulates on the ground, a pile of nothingness, I feel that rubber band bounce back to me, a final time. A permanent time. I gasp as the magic, my own birthed magic, jumps around inside of me, clearly happy to be home again.
“We did it. We beat him.” I stammer out the words. Everything inside of me is fighting—elation that the witchfinder is dead, sadness that my mom has disappeared right along with him.
Another pulse of energy shoots out from us, from what seems like the epicenter of the meadow where I broke through the canvas and made the portal to the false house, breaking the illusion that was trapping Jen. It is so powerful that it nearly rocks us all off of our feet. I grab at Hoyt to stay upright. Jon is standing a little ways from us; he’s dealing with the loss of my mom too. I didn’t get to see them together but for a short time, but enough to know there was great love there.
We have both lost a mother figure this day.
“What the hell is happening?” Hoyt holds onto me until I’m steady on my feet.
“I think you’ve broken the spell.” Jon says, his voice flat.
“What do you mean? The witchfinder’s dead; I’ve got my magic back. I should be free of the forest, right?” I turn to Jon. He is that boy I first met, full of rage and sarcasm.
“I’ve been here a long time.” Jon shrugs, walking over to the nearest tree to lean against it and cross his arms. “From what I’ve heard, after all my damn time here, is there’s only one way to break Elisabeth’s spell.” He points a finger at Hoyt, then directs the same finger at me. His face is warped in a lopsided, sneer. “A mortal in love with a witch. Said mortal proves that love. Little sacrifice action and, ba-da-bing, no more spell. Apparently, it’s supposed to be ironic.”
“That’s what’s happening?” I grunt out as another violent wave of magic earthquakes through the woods.
“Yep,” Jon says. “And my suggestion?” Jon looks behind him, into the darkness of the forest. “Time to start running.”
“Running?” Hoyt asks, moving closer to me and wrapping his arms around me.
“I’m a vampire,” Jon says it looking at me; I feel Hoyt’s arms tighten around me, “and there’s a heck of a lot worse than me in these woods. So, yeah, I think running might be in order. You know, in the ‘for dear life’ sort of way.” Jon almost spits the last word out.
“A... vampire.” It’s not a question. Hoyt’s warm against me.
“Yes, pretty boy. A vampire.”
I step away from Hoyt; he lets his arms drop from around my body, although I get the impression that he doesn’t want to let me go. I don’t want to let him go either. Part of me wishes we were still in that dream world, alone and dancing. It had been scary, but it had also been isolated from all of this madness.
Hoyt is staring at Jon now. He hadn’t known what he was. Part of me had assumed he knew already, about the creatures and the secrets of the Shadow Forest. He’d found his way in before the spell was broken after all. I want to ask what’s happened to him since I’ve been trapped. I want to ask how he found me. But I can’t right now. No, there are more pressing matters to attend.
“And now that the spell is broken?” I whisper, so low I don’t think anyone could possibly hear me.
“The witchfinder died because he was human, Tilda. All his years caught up to him. Most of the things Elisabeth imprisoned, things like me—me because I killed the wrong person in my blood lust so long ago—are not human. And now,” he pauses, stands away from the tree. The sarcastic, angry boy fades away. “Tilda, they’re free. They’re all free again.”
My first thought is Jen, alone in the house, confused about what has happened, scared and not knowing where I am. She doesn’t even have Hoyt now to help her. “We have to get to Jen.” I start running, not waiting for anyone to follow. But they do. I can hear them. Two sets of feet. Jon is coming too. That sends a twinge through me. I love Hoyt, but I have come very quickly to care for Jon.
Maybe I care too fast for people.
Fall too fast.
I don’t want to gather people, have more people in my life, just to have more people to lose when tragedy strikes.
A shriek sounds behind us, somewhere deep in the forest. It sends my pulse racing.
We’re almost to the edge of the woods, to the gap in the fence. We’d been closer than I thought.
“Jen!” I start screaming as we near the broken section.
It hasn’t once crossed my mind that I’m still running, still able to walk and use my legs, even with the enchantment destroyed and the witchfinder dead.
It doesn’t cross my mind at all...
Until I pass through that gap in the fence and I fall forward, my knees giving out, the feeling leaving my body from hips to toes. There’s not even a tingling, not even the progress of tingling Hoyt and I had made whilst in therapy. My legs are gone again. Gone.
Hoyt races up behind me, picking me up without a word. I’ve already dissolved into tears.
“My legs, Hoyt. My legs.” I’m unintelligible, gasping and sobbing. I know there are so many more important things to be doing. Warning Jen. Figuring out what to do. How many creatures are in the forest? How dangerous are they? My mind races to the ‘others’, the ones mom was so scared of that we stayed quiet, clinging to one another in the woods.
The shriek comes again; it is soon joined by grunts and roars. A forest of monsters. Jon had called it that.
A forest of monsters.
And we’d loosed it on the world for the sake of me.
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E L I Z A G R A C E
ELIZA GRACE IS A PEN name of Eli Constant / Eli Constant Books. Eliza is all about Teen and New Adult fiction—magical realism, paranormal romance, and fantastical plots with heart-pounding fights against evil.
Living in the United States, Eliza spends her days homeschooling, playing with her daughters and Mr. Miles (a precocious Whoodle puppy that’s all bark and no bite), and generally being a terrible housekeeper. She’s lucky to have a laundry fairy though. Cough-cough. That would be an amazing Mother-in-Law who’s constantly folding clothes, because Eliza can’t seem to remember to do it. Ever.
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Website: www.authoreliconstant.com