The cat’s curved canines snapped inches from my nose. Morgan clucked her tongue and the cat raised its head. With sleek nonchalance, the feline beast hopped off me and sat beside its master. Its yellow eyes, devoid of pupils, glittered like crystals.
I slowly sat up, my attention fixed on the cat as my monkey brain screamed at me to run. The creature looked like a white panther, and I might’ve believed it was an exotic albino if not for the unnatural eyes and its two tails, the tips glowing faintly with magic. Was it a fae?
“Are you a druid?” I asked warily.
“I’m a witch,” Morgan corrected. “However, your new master is a druid, so expect to encounter a lot of fae around here. And fair warning, girl. You’d better respect them, or you won’t live to learn from your mistakes.”
Revulsion rose through me and I had to fight to keep it off my face. Your new master.
Screw. That. Bullshit.
No one was my master, not even a dark arts druid who’d outsmarted Kai and evaded the Crow and Hammer’s best mythics. My mind spun as I tried to recall everything Kaveri, Ezra, and Aaron had mentioned about druids. Not much except witches didn’t like them, and Morgan appeared to be an exception to that rule.
As for the Ghost, all I knew about him was that he was a teen-abducting rogue whose victims were never seen again. Well, I was about to ruin his perfect track record.
I rose to my feet and dusted myself off, ready for round two. “So?”
Morgan’s lip curled. “Nadine will show you around so you know where everything is. After lunch, you can start in the barn. You may find the experience enlightening.” With a final sneer, she strode away, the fae panther following in a smooth prowl.
As instructed, Nadine gave me a tour. And if I’d been afraid before, now I was afraid and completely flummoxed.
There were no dungeons. No torture devices. No death pits filled with the corpses of the Ghost’s victims. No moaning slaves chained to walls with their eyes cut out of their heads. Okay, so maybe my imagination had run away with me, but nothing about this place suggested it belonged to a notorious dark arts rogue.
Well, almost nothing.
Strange black shapes lurked in the trees, their eyes catching the light whenever they strayed too close to the sunny meadow. A pair of enormous, shaggy wolves lounged in the pasture, keeping watch over the livestock with crystal-bright red eyes. The shelving in the kitchen was stacked with potions, powders, and eerily glowing poisons.
There was also the “alchemy garden,” which I was forbidden to enter—though Nadine told me I could go ahead and disobey that order if I wanted to die a horrific death. Some plants were lethal to the touch.
My tour guide barely acknowledged that stuff, though. Nadine showed me the vegetable garden, the apple orchard, and the berry bushes near the trees’ edge. I got a rundown of the farm—a stable for livestock, pens with fat pigs laying in the mud, and a chicken coop coated in feathers. Inside the house, she showed me the bathroom, the kitchen, the dining hall, and a small lounge room with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The basement held another few rooms with bunk beds and two more bathrooms.
She also pointed out the stairs to the second level, with a closed door at the top, and told me to stay away. The second level was his private floor and if I went up there, I’d return to the main level as a corpse.
I listened silently to her descriptions. At first, I’d tried to engage her in conversation—tried to feel out her real thoughts about this place. Until I knew she wouldn’t immediately run to the Ghost and tattle on me, I couldn’t reveal my status as her possible rescuer. But with every question I’d asked, Nadine had grown more hostile until I gave up.
The other workers on the Ghost’s weird farm were equally standoffish. I met a few teenage boys around Nadine’s age, a few young adults like me, and Terrance, an older man with dark skin, gold-framed glasses, and a quiet frown. He was third-in-command after Morgan and the Ghost. Last but not least, we passed a thin girl with curly black hair no older than twelve. The Ghost had zero compunctions about stealing little kids, either. The child’s thousand-yard stare had chilled me to the bone.
All in all, there were ten abductees like me, two older adults who kept them in line, and the mysterious “master” of the house.
Lunch was a somber affair. A giant salad, hardboiled eggs, and soft buns served with homemade butter were laid out on a long wooden dining table. I filled my plate and sat on a bench, eleven mythics surrounding the table as they ate silently. I saw no sign of the Ghost.
I wanted to hate my meal. I wanted to rant about slave food and abuse and starving defenseless prisoners. But … damn it, it was way too good. The salad could only be fresh-picked vegetables from the garden, eggs from the hens in the coops, the buns and butter made from scratch in this very kitchen. I scarfed down my plate, waited until most everyone was done eating, then loaded my plate again.
No one said anything about my second helping. In fact, no one said anything at all, and feeling suspicious eyes all over me, I figured my presence was the cause of the silence. They didn’t want to talk in front of me. They were afraid to talk. I could taste the fear and hostility in the air.
What exactly did they fear? That I would attack them? Or that I would get them in trouble with the Ghost? Had he forbidden them from speaking with me? Whatever it was, I could see that, even absent, the Ghost ruled them with an iron fist forged by terror.
After lunch, I got my first taste of indentured servitude. And it tasted like shit. Literally.
Every animal on the farm pooped. Copiously. And my first job was cleaning it up. Cow crap. Horse crap. Goat and sheep crap. Pig, chicken, and for some dumbass reason, rabbit crap. Why rabbits? Did the Ghost sacrifice their fluffy adorableness in his dark arts rituals?
I snarled as I shoveled reeking manure out of the barn. This was stupid. Sooooo stupid. I was an abducted prisoner! Where was my damp underground cell? Why couldn’t I mope in chains instead of wading through shit in a barn?
Back aching and hands blistering, I paused in the shadowy doorway of the barn to catch my breath. The low sun blazed over the western peaks, and I squinted longingly at it. This valley could be anywhere from an hour outside the city to hundreds of miles, and all I knew for sure was that the ocean lay to the west. Home was that way.
Home. To my surprise, the word didn’t summon thoughts of Justin’s apartment or my new basement unit. It called up an image of the dimly lit Crow and Hammer pub. My bar, lined with stools, the liquor bottles arranged just the way I liked them.
A shudder ran through me but I clamped down on my simmering fear. I couldn’t break down, no matter how hopeless it seemed.
I’d thought the Ghost’s home base would be in the city—somewhere I’d stand a chance of escaping. But the middle of nowhere? A small ranch in a remote valley without a road? The farm was mostly self-sufficient, from the huge gardens to the solar panels on the cabin roof. But it wasn’t large enough to grow feed for all the livestock. Someone had delivered the hay bales.
I’d find a way to escape that didn’t involve trekking through the mountain wilderness. Shoveling shit was better than being eaten by a bear … though not by much.
My eyes darted to the pasture where I’d seen the pair of fae wolves, but they were gone. As the shadows stretched across the lush grass, I wiped sweat from my forehead. I’d figure this out. I’d make it back.
“Slacking already?”
I jumped, my shovel tumbling out of my hands and clattering on the floor. Nadine had appeared around the barn’s corner, an empty bucket in one hand.
“It’s almost dinnertime,” she told me flatly. “Put your stuff away and head back to the house.”
She disappeared into the shadowy barn. I returned the shovel to its place and waited on the sunny path, watching the others make their way to the house.
A minute later, Nadine came out and paused. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you?”
; “Why?
“Why not?”
Her eyes narrowed. “We aren’t friends.”
Wow, harsh. “Am I that unpleasant?”
“You’re new,” she said accusingly.
“So? I’m here, same as you.”
She folded her arms and gave me that same assessing look—the cold, unfriendly one. “When he asked why you came to him, what did you say?”
“I said … I wanted a new life.”
“And then he gave you a choice.”
I nodded, surprised the Ghost followed the same script for every abduction. “Did you know this is what you were signing up for?”
“You asked for a new life, just like everyone else, and you got one. If you don’t like it, you won’t be around for long.”
Despite the sunlight, a chill whispered through me. I wasn’t sure how to interpret her tone, but the words rang with warning. Maybe I should feign more enthusiasm for shit shoveling.
Chin high, she marched past me. Trailing after her, I chewed on my lower lip. The Ghost went after vulnerable young mythics with nowhere to go, and he brought them here to … work hard labor on his farm? Why did a dark arts druid even need a farm? Surely there were easier ways to feed himself.
What especially bothered me was why the Ghost would need to continue kidnapping people. The house was almost fully stocked with workers. If they were prisoners who couldn’t leave, the Ghost should be set. What happened to the workers that he’d need to keep replacing them?
Nervous questions were still spinning through my mind when Nadine stopped. I slowed, scanning the path ahead. The last few stragglers heading to the house had also paused, and everyone was gazing across the valley toward the shadowy eastern slope.
“What is it?” I asked.
Nadine pointed. “He’s back.”
My skin prickled, and I looked again.
He came out of the shadows that stretched from the forest—a dark figure in the same long coat he’d worn for my abduction, the hood pulled up. Four black wolves trotted on his heels, a fifth one at his side. Even from across the valley, I could tell he had a hand on its shoulders.
Yeah, it was so huge that he, a tall man, could casually rest his hand on its back.
Nadine pushed into motion, her steps urgent. I hastened after her, my stomach twisting. Would he punish us if he reached the house first? I didn’t understand how any of this was supposed to work. No one had explained anything.
We reached the cabin first. Nadine toed off her shoes and shoved them onto the shelf by the door. I tugged off the rubber boots I’d worn for shit-shoveling duty, relieved that my running shoes had been spared. I should have put them to good use last night by running the hell away from the Ghost.
As I straightened, the door swung open. The Ghost stood in the threshold. His wolves were gone, but fear still skittered down my spine. Though shadows filled his hood, hiding his face, I could feel his eyes on me and my heart leaped.
He closed the distance between us—then swept right past me. Striding across the front landing, he ascended the staircase, vanished into the room at the top, and closed the door with a soft click.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I bent my head and hurried to the bathroom to wash up before dinner. The Ghost was in the house, and I could feel the difference in the air.
The master was home.
Chapter Nine
That night, I lay awake on the bottom bunk, a light blanket covering my bare legs. Thoughts churned in my head, chasing away sleep.
What was I doing here?
How would I escape?
Was there a way to save Nadine and the other captives?
So far, Nadine had shown no signs of wanting to be saved, but I wasn’t fooled. Fear clung to this place, and everyone was terrified of the Ghost. He held them in his sway, the mere threat of his attention keeping them obedient.
He hadn’t joined his workers for the evening meal. Of course not. He’d disappeared upstairs, and Morgan had carried a covered platter to his room before dinner. We’d feasted on salad, buns, baked potatoes, and roast chicken. Again, I couldn’t complain about the food.
After eating, several people stayed in the kitchen to do the dishes, and the rest of us … I’d figured we’d be put back to work, slaving until late in the night. But nope.
Nadine and two boys played a board game in the lounge room. Omar and another mid-twenties guy studied ancient-looking textbooks at the dinner table. Two young women retreated to their rooms with paperback novels from the bookshelf, and the youngest girl sat in the corner, drawing. Either the Ghost was crazy lax or crazy smart, but he allowed his captives near unrestricted free time in the evenings to do whatever they pleased.
Too restless to pretend to read a book, I’d explored the cabin’s main floor and basement. No phones, computers, laptops, tablets—no technology beyond the kitchen appliances. Not even a TV. No way to connect with the outside world.
Eventually, I found myself in the front entryway, glaring up the staircase. Behind that closed door was the Ghost. What was he doing? What did he have hidden in there? If I planned to escape, I’d probably have to find out.
Morgan noticed me loitering by the stairs and took me to a storage room in the basement where I picked out a few outfits from bins of spare clothes. Nothing fit great but it was better than wearing my stinky thrift-store outfit.
With nothing else to do, I went to bed early. My roommates soon followed: Nadine, the young tween Shanice, and Miesha, an unhealthily thin girl around my age with short stringy hair and a nose piercing. She didn’t talk to me at all.
Unhappy, unhealthy teens and young adults, isolated on this farm and forced to work. Free time in the evenings changed nothing. Even if I didn’t understand the specifics yet, the Ghost was using them, abusing them, and I would bring him down.
As my roommates drifted off to sleep, my thoughts meandered to the people I’d left behind. Aaron would be freaking out. Kai would be planning his next move with quiet urgency. And Ezra … when an enemy guild had threatened Aaron, Ezra hadn’t handled it well. I’d glimpsed his dangerous temper, normally hidden beneath his unassuming calm. How would he react to my capture?
Tears pricked my eyes and I squeezed them shut. What had I done? In my desperation to save Nadine, I’d put them in a worse position—having to save me. My stomach dropped sickeningly, and I thought it was anxiety over the unfair suffering I was causing the guys. But the fear spiraled even deeper, and I snapped my eyes open.
A black wolf stood beside my bed.
Its nose twitched as it inhaled my scent. Up close, it was even bigger than it had looked in the pasture, shaggy fur adding to its bulk. Unnatural eyes, sharp with cunning, studied me—vibrant red, devoid of pupils. Eerie. Uncanny.
I pressed into the mattress, scarcely daring to breathe as the creature examined me. Its lips lifted, displaying monstrous white canines.
Blankets rustled in the bunk above me and a head appeared over the edge. Young Shanice peered sleepily at the fae wolf.
“Grenior?” she mumbled.
Oh thank god, she would help me.
“Are you going to bite her?”
My stomach dropped further. There was no concern in the girl’s question—only curiosity, like I was a particularly tasty cake about to be sampled.
Grenior the wolf opened its long muzzle, snout wrinkling into a silent snarl as its hackles rose. Its red eyes, locked on me, blazed with magical light. The snarl shifted from silent to audible, rumbling through the small room.
A loud snap broke the silence.
The Ghost stood in the bedroom doorway, dressed in his long coat with the shadowy hood, one hand lifted. He snapped his fingers a second time and Grenior huffed irritably. Its snarl faded and it turned, nails clicking on the floor as it padded past the Ghost out of the room.
My heart didn’t slow its panicked laps through my ribcage, convinced I was about to be eaten.
Without a word, the druid disappeared in
to the hall. I lay there for about ten seconds, hyperventilating, then flung the blankets off. Shanice was still hanging over the edge of her bunk when I flew out of the room. As I entered the hall, the front door latched quietly, and I pelted toward it. Flinging it open, I stumbled barefoot onto the porch.
The Ghost was striding down the path, his dark form lit by the near-full moon in a cloudless night sky. As the bang of the door echoed through the still air, he didn’t pause.
But the four wolves trotting alongside him glanced back. Their glowing red eyes fixed on me.
I opened my mouth to shout after him … then slowly closed it. Heart racing, I wondered if it was smart to remain silent—or just cowardly. If I called out, would he stop? If I ran after him, would he turn back? I’d never find out, because I was too afraid to try.
Standing on the porch, I watched as he and his fae wolves crossed the valley and disappeared into the forest. For a long time after, I stared into the night, waiting for the Ghost to return.
Faint light tinged the eastern horizon when I finally gave up. Exhausted, I stumbled back to the room and crawled into my bed. Eyes burning with tiredness, I buried my face into my pillow.
Thirty minutes later, I found out the hard way that labor on a farm begins at the ass-crack of dawn.
Ghost Captivity, Day Four.
Standing at the edge of the apple orchard, I gazed into the lush forest. The late afternoon breeze rustled my ponytail and the trees sighed softly as their leaves fluttered. No freaky silhouettes patrolled from the shadows and my fellow captives were busy with their chores.
Three steps in front of my toes, a path wound into the trees.
With a final, cautious scan of my surroundings, I jogged onto the trail. I didn’t know what I expected to find in the woods, but I was desperate to claw my way even an inch closer to escape. To something. Anything. A hint, a clue, a tip, a whisper of potential. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed out of this place.
The leafy trees closed over me as I ran into their cool shadows, feet pounding on the path. Branches slapped my arms, but I didn’t slow. Five minutes of monotonous greenery passed, then—light? Ahead, sunlight glowed through the branches—a clearing! Excitement flashed through me and I pushed harder.
Dark Arts and a Daiquiri (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 2) Page 8
