Free Spirit: Book Two of The Bound Spirit Series

by H. A. Wills

  “You needed me… and I… lost it,” I say with halting breaths, fighting those stupid tears. “It must’ve been awful for you to see that fire, and because I let my past get to me again, you had to go for help. You had to save me.”

  “Well, I didn’t save you this time…” he replies, rubbing at the back of his neck.

  “Felix,” I say his name with a warning that implies he’s intentionally missing the point, then sigh, “I’m tired of all this shit being about me. I’m tired of my past clinging to me, constantly in wait to cripple me at any moment. I’m just so tired…”

  “Callie, look at me,” he demands, his warm timbre turning more into a plea. When I do as he asks, lifting my face so I’m no longer peeking under my lashes, he asks, “How long has it been since your dad was arrested?”

  Tucking my hair behind my ears, sure that my bedhead has reached epic levels of volume, I try to clear my mind enough to do the math. I stutter, “Um… it’s been… a little over two months.”

  He nods, his elfin features pinched with concern. “Two months compared to over three years of torture. Don’t you think you’re being hard on yourself?”

  I sniff and rub at my face, trying to catch the tears before they fall. Whispering, I confess, “I don’t want to be weak anymore.”

  “Holy shit, pretty girl,” he exclaims, shaking his head. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve literally been lit on fire multiple times, and you’re still here. Let alone any of the other crap you haven’t told me yet.”

  “That’s not strength,” I utter in a small voice. “I had no choice. I can’t die.”

  Felix reaches out to touch me, then his fingers curl in and pull back. He grits his teeth, then blatantly asks, “You joke about it, but I want the truth. Do you want to die?”

  The question shocks me out of my self-pity, and I answer emphatically, “No. No, I don’t want to die. Before… I did. I wanted the pain to stop, but now… I have so much to live for.”

  “Good,” he breathes, then nods. “Good.”

  I bite my lip hard, using the pain to clear my head. I don’t know what to say or how to feel looking at my friend whose life was cut short. He also had so much to live for, but like me, didn’t have a choice. His life was stolen and those that did it are still out there. Putting aside how much I’ll miss him, I need to find the people that did it. I need to help Felix resolve his unfinished business.

  Before I can find the words to respond, there’s a heavy flapping noise outside.

  “Holy crap,” I whisper, floored to see Kaleb and Donovan flying toward the house.

  Shirtless and their wings glimmering in the swirling mist, they look like myths made flesh-- well, except for the jeans. Those aren’t very myth-like.

  There’s a weighty thump when they land on the roof, followed by Donovan hanging over my balcony, his body stretched long with each muscle cut into clear definition. He drops down, and Kaleb quickly follows. Both of their wings are sadly hidden again. I still have no idea how that works exactly.

  “Shit, that was cold,” Donovan grumbles, chafing his arms while stepping around me to enter my room.

  “By all means, come on in,” I mutter, moving so I’m no longer in the doorway, while Felix chuckles.

  Kaleb glances over the balcony for a moment, seeming to investigate the damage. His dark sepia skin glistens from the moisture outside, and beads of water cling to his cropped, black curly hair. Satisfied that nothing is on fire anymore, he turns his attention to me, his warm brown eyes full of gentle sympathy.

  “I’m fine,” I say before he can ask.

  Felix and Kaleb both give me skeptical looks, but Kaleb merely asks, “Do you have a towel we can dry off with?”

  “I’ll get one,” Donovan answers, striding out of my room like he owns the place-- and really doesn’t want to be part of this conversation.

  “I’m fine enough,” I argue stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I believe you,” he replies, running his hand along the top of his head like he’s trying to dust out the water droplets. “You promised to tell us if there was something wrong, so if you say you’re fine, then you must be.”

  Felix gives me a wide-eyed expression, flicking his gaze to Kaleb and back to me in the clear tone of, ‘You should tell him what happened.’

  Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs and send a squinty glare at Kaleb, my lips pressed tight in a pout.

  “Alright fine, I’m not fine,” I grumble, gripping the fabric of my flannel pant legs. “Someone lit my damn backyard on fire, and I freaked. But I’m not catatonic and I’m not sobbing… anymore, so I’m calling it a win. And don’t think I don’t know what you just did.”

  He shivers, running his hands up and down his arms, while a breath of a smile pulls at his full lips. He replies, “I agreed with you.”

  “Uh huh,” I mutter, then glancing at my open bedroom door, I ask, “Where’s Donovan? How long does it take to get a towel?”

  “About the length of time for you to talk through the emotional half of what happened, but before you get into the concrete details of what actually happened,” Felix answers cheekily, leaning back on his elbows.

  Rolling my eyes, I get to my feet and head toward my dresser, pulling out a random t-shirt. I toss it to Kaleb. “Here use this.”

  “Thank you, and you know, it’s okay to not be okay,” Kaleb assures, while he uses my shirt to dry off.

  “Yeah, well, I’m getting tired of not being okay,” I huff, flopping back onto my bed. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m worse now than I was when the abuse was actually happening.”

  Felix gets up to lie next to me at the foot of my bed, his head propped up on his arm. Now that I understand how much effort it takes for him to do that, I’m properly impressed. He has sad eyes, and I know what he saw in my head is now running through his.

  “That’s because you’re safe now,” Kaleb counters, hanging my t-shirt over the bed’s lacquered, wooden footboard to dry. He pulls a dove grey, long-sleeved shirt from his pocket, flaps it a few times in the air to try and get out some of the wrinkles, then while putting it on, continues, “Before it was about survival. Now, you know that you’re safe from… him, it’s understandable that all you were suppressing is making its way to the surface.”

  Oh good god, I hope not. There’s a lot of shit down there locked away with only a tight smile and heavy doses of denial. I think about all the things I’ve blown up or broken or in some way destroyed because of losing my shit. Okay, maybe denial isn’t working so well for me anymore.

  “She may be safe from that asshole,” Donovan comments, barging back into the room, dressed in a black Henley that’s damp in a few spots and holding the now unnecessary hand towel, “but someone did just build a fucking bonfire in her backyard. Which means the fuckers are back.”

  “We don’t know that…” Kaleb counters.

  “So before we get into all that,” Felix interrupts, falling to his back and raising a pointed finger into the air. “Are we going to talk about the feathered elephant in the room?”

  “The what?” Donovan questions, with a familiar confused squint that I’m noticing happens every time Felix says something he doesn’t understand the reference to.

  Kaleb sighs. “It was faster to fly, and the mist was thick enough that no humans could see us. You told us it was important, and considering you braved potentially getting caught by my parents, we got here as fast as we could.”

  “You flew. Just busted out your wings and flew right over,” Felix declares with exaggerated hand gestures, then rolls onto his stomach, barely stopping before my arm goes through him. “Do you have to start from high up and jump, or can you achieve lift off when on the ground?”

  Taking in his enthusiasm, I can’t figure out which one of us is reacting correctly. He just heard the people that killed his family might be back, and he’s focused on how Kaleb and Donovan flew here. Whereas this is the f
irst time I’ve ever seen them fly, and I was only able to conjure mild shock, too focused on my own fucked up past biting me in the ass again. Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe there isn’t any right way to react.

  “Is this the first time you’ve seen them fly?” I ask, shifting so Felix has a little more room.

  “Yes. The jerks kept putting it off for the ‘right time’,” he replies with finger quotes.

  Donovan throws the towel over his shoulder, then dips his hands into his pockets. “I would’ve done it already if K didn’t say he’d rat me out to Keziah.”

  Kaleb snorts and crosses his arms. “I said that if you got caught, I wasn’t going to bail you out.”

  “He’s scared of getting his ass chewed out by Kaleb’s mom,” Felix stage whispers. “To be fair, she’s a real nice lady until you get her mad… kind of like Mildred, now that I think of it.”

  When did he see my aunt mad?

  “Can we get back to the point of why we’re here?” Donovan groans.

  “Yes, why are you here?” Mildred says from the doorway, startling all of us. “And next time, please do use the front door.”

  Kaleb recovers first, his expression smoothed to one of respect and politeness. Sincerity infusing his rich baritone, he answers, “I’m sorry we barged in this way, but Felix informed us of the emergency. We hurried here as fast as we could.”

  She gives me a look that makes me really hope there isn’t a spell to read minds, then returns her attention to Kaleb and Donovan. “Since you’re here, what do you know?”

  Donovan walks over to my desk, pulls out my chair, and sits in it backward. He rests his arms on the back of the chair and answers, “The fire means that the people that killed the Jacobs are back.”

  “You don’t know that,” Kaleb asserts, rubbing between his brows. “What happened to the Jacobs here isn’t a secret. Anyone could have done it as a copycat… perhaps to try and scare Callie and Mildred away.”

  “Does her torture know no ends?” Felix laments, dropping his head against the bedspread.

  “You have to be fucking kidding me,” Donovan grunts, his hands curling to fists. “You think the Witch Bitch did this.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Mildred gasps, scandalized.

  “He means Gina,” I sigh. Frowning, I sit up with my legs crossed in front of me. “But she has air magic.”

  “I’m pretty sure Anastasia specializes in fire,” Kaleb offers, cautiously sitting down next to me on the edge of the bed. “And she’s one of Gina’s followers.”

  “Anastasia? That’s the girl that chased after Nolan in kindergarten, right?” I ask.

  “That would be the one,” Donovan answers, his jaw flexing. “There’s also lighter fluid and matches. No magic required.”

  Not knowing what else to do with my hands, I go back to fiddling with my pant legs. Folding the fabric like a fan, then smoothing it back out.

  Mildred’s lips are pinched, and her gaze zeroes in on me. “Gina is the girl who’s bullying you at school. The one you specifically begged me not to get involved with over the horrendous incident that daft woman from the school had the audacity to blame you for. Do I have it correct?”

  “Danger, Will Robinson. Danger,” Felix mutters unhelpfully.

  Clearing my throat, I answer, “Um, yes. Also the daughter of the leader of the local coven, who’s also the mayor of the town, and who would be bad to piss off since we’re trying to stay under the radar of the Council.”

  Her brown eyes narrow, and she rests her chin on a fisted hand while the other arm is crossed over her chest. “You think she could be responsible for nearly burning our house down?”

  “It’s one speculation, yes,” Kaleb interjects. There’s an apology in his eyes, when he adds, “It could be a number of people. Individuals who believe Callie is manipulating us by… distasteful means and want to seek retribution.”

  I’m not really upset with Kaleb for telling my aunt about the rumors, but my stomach sinks knowing I’ll have to explain them.

  “I know about the rumors,” she announces, annoyance making her words even more clipped. “That woman told me. I insisted it was all rubbish, and the twit had the gall to say I was biased from seeing the situation clearly. She became very quiet when I informed her that you all fell asleep watching movies in our living room Saturday night, then helped me cook breakfast the next morning.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Mildred,” I reply with a soft smile.

  “No thanks necessary. It was the truth,” she says in a straightforward manner, then walks over to me. With a hand running along my hair, she promises, “I’m always here for you, my dear. And I’ll always be on your side.”

  I nod, warmed by the knowledge that I have people that will always believe me-- then slightly guilty for my slight abuse of that trust.

  Rubbing at my eyes, I sigh, “So we’ve deduced that the fire could mean murderers raring up for round two are back, Gina’s fucking insane, or there are an innumerable amount of the student body that don’t know how to use their words. Yay!”

  “Is this a multiple choice or can we mark all answers we think are right?” Felix jokes, sitting up. “Because I’m pretty sure at least two of those answers are always true.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Donovan chuckles darkly.

  Mildred raises a single brow but doesn’t ask me to elaborate, instead stating, “I’ll place guardian stones around the property. If anyone that wishes us harm crosses the perimeter, it’ll not only alert me of their presence but what type of species they are. That should narrow the list of suspects, and if they don’t return, all the better.”

  “Can you…” Kaleb asks but is interrupted by the sounds of sirens.

  “About bloody time,” she hisses, pushing the sleeves of her cable-knit sweater up to her elbows. “If we were human, we could’ve died waiting on them.”

  I know I told her to call them, but now that the police are here, there’s a sickening weight in my stomach and a cold sweat along my neck. An irrational anger itches down my skin, and I hug myself tight, trying to keep all these new feelings from escaping.

  “You boys are going to have to hide somewhere,” my aunt announces, unaware of the new development waging war inside me. “I don’t wish to explain how you arrived before the police without a car.”

  “I’m keeping the towel,” Donovan declares, getting up and pulling his shirt off, then stuffing both in his pockets-- the hand towel hanging out.

  I wonder what would happen if their shirts were still on when they summoned their wings. And you’d think they’d have special shirts for flying to accommodate their wings. Then I remember its Donovan, so even if they did, he probably wouldn’t wear them.

  “We’ll wait for Nolan and Connor and ride in with them,” Kaleb informs, pulling his shirt off, and neatly folding it, so it fits more easily in his back pocket.

  “Oh, delightful. The other boys are coming too. Don’t you have school?” Mildred questions, sounding slightly exasperated. Maybe she isn’t used to people just dropping in on her unannounced.

  “This is more important,” Donovan answers with a shrug, walking out onto the balcony. He then jumps up to grip the edge of the roof and hoists himself up, like he does it every day.

  “We’re Callie’s friends,” Kaleb emphasizes, his gaze fixed to Mildred’s. “If she needs us, we’ll always come.”

  He squeezes my hand, a vow that they’ll return soon, then makes his way to the balcony. Unlike Donovan, he perches on the balcony ledge with perfect balance, then his magnificent wings appear, the soft mist only accenting the golden sheen to the white feathers. He stretches them wide and without preamble, jumps off and glides up into the air.

  “Show off,” is shouted from our roof, followed by Donovan gliding out next to him, and both disappear into the fog.

  “Why walk or use front doors, when you can just fly off a balcony?” Felix comments wistfully.

  “That would be the only way you’d travel if
you could, and you know it,” I chide.

  “Well, duh,” he replies with his infectious smile.

  ∞∞∞

  When the police arrived, my aunt and I walked outside to greet them, not too keen to have them inside the house where all the magic books and stuff lived, and it’s been a downward spiral of epic proportions since they sauntered out of their cruisers.

  First, they chewed us out for handling the fire ourselves and potentially ruining evidence. Mildred told them she put it out with a garden hose and some dirt-- magic may have been involved to get them to swallow that lie -- but apparently, we should’ve just let our house burn down waiting for the professionals.

  After ensuring that we were thoroughly chastised, the officers followed it up by patronizingly stating how ridiculous it was that we managed to miss someone building a fire in our backyard during daylight-- like everyone else keeps 24-hour surveillance on all angles of their house.

  Now, they’ve moved on to how ‘we little ladies’ should probably find a new place to live until they solve who did this. I already don’t like cops in general, but dealing with these idiots has my blood boiling, the stone hanging around my neck reaching burning briquette levels, and I’m ready to claw out the eyes of the two badged assholes in front of me.

  “No one must have told you,” badged-asshole-number-one says, “but the family that lived here before was murdered, and the bodies were disposed of by a large fire right where the one this morning was set.”

  My eyes turn mockingly wide, and in a high pitched voice dripping with sarcasm, I reply, “Was that what the giant burn mark in the yard was? Here I thought it was a backyard cookout gone wrong.”

  “Callie,” my aunt whispers with a clipped warning, then answers evenly, “We were made aware of the tragic events that occurred here.”

  Both officers are somewhere in their mid-forties, so nondescript as to be forgettable while looking at them, and have matching expressions of ‘Lady, you’re nuts to live here.’ Just being in their presence makes me furious.

  They’re just another set of cops that are incompetent at their jobs.