Dark Arts and a Daiquiri (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 2)

by Annette Marie

  I burst into the sun—and found myself back in the orchard.

  Panting for air, I stared at the apple trees, then turned around. A trail stretched into the woods—the same trail I’d run down. I was standing in the exact same spot where I’d entered the forest, but the path hadn’t looped back. I’d run straight. I was sure of it.

  How the hell did I end up back where I’d started?

  Just in case I was going crazy, I launched up the trail once more, this time at a brisk walk. The path cut straight through the green forest gloom, and I concentrated on each step, ensuring I didn’t somehow get turned around.

  Ten minutes later, the perfectly straight trail ended in the orchard, right where I’d started. How?

  Magic, that was how. I rubbed my hands over my face, struggling to keep my composure. Did the Ghost have a spell that encompassed this entire valley, preventing anyone from leaving? That seemed impossible, but what did I know? His magic had stumped the Crow and Hammer mythics. When Aaron, Kai, and Ezra had tried to save me in the park, they couldn’t reach the gazebo. Had they found themselves running back out of the park from the same place they’d entered?

  I was trapped in this valley. Even if I’d been willing to take my chances traversing the wilderness, I couldn’t.

  Breathing deeply before I did something embarrassing like cry, I stomped back to the two big buckets half filled with rotten apples for the compost and got to work.

  For four days, I’d toiled on the farm. I didn’t have a problem sleeping after the first night; every muscle aching with exhaustion, I’d passed out the moment my head hit the pillow. No late-night visits from a fae wolf had woken me, and the Ghost had made himself scarce.

  Around the farm, the atmosphere was more relaxed, and once I’d proved I could work as hard as anyone else, the others lost some of their hostility. They weren’t friendly and no one liked questions, but the mood had improved. And, as they got used to me, they started talking. Not to me, but near me, and I learned more about them.

  Morgan was a witch, and so were Shanice and Miesha, my two roommates. In the afternoons, they went with Morgan to train. Terrance, the other in-charge guy, was an alchemist and he was training Omar and a young man with buzzed hair and a constantly stony expression. Jasper, a seventeen-year-old with brown hair and a strong desire to be shirtless the moment he walked outside, had recently begun his apprenticeship as well. Everyone was getting trained in their magic.

  Why train captives? I didn’t get it, but it had grown painfully obvious that I was missing something important—something that would explain what this place really was. “Prison” clearly didn’t apply.

  Finishing in the orchard, I headed for the house. As I left the trees, the sun hit me and I tipped my face toward its warmth. The farm had felt colder for the last few hours—ever since the Ghost had returned from last night’s sojourn into the mountains. I’d seen him arrive from across the pasture, striding out of the forest with his black fae wolf at his heels. Like before, he’d gone straight into the house, probably to lock himself in his secret second-floor lair.

  I cut onto the track that led from the barn to the cabin, absently wiping my hands on my pants. It was almost dinnertime and half the mythics were already inside, while the rest were either making their way to the house or lazily finishing their chores.

  Nadine sat on a stack of firewood, observing Jasper as he raised an axe and brought it down on a log, splitting it clean in two. Of course, the seventeen-year-old boy had his shirt off, displaying his skinny teen muscles for his appreciative female audience. He balanced the split piece on the chopping block for a second hit, then paused as another teen jogged heavily past the house.

  “Pick up the pace, Kayden!” Jasper called laughingly. “You won’t get in shape lumbering around like a bear.”

  I’d noticed Kayden, a stout teenager with a mop of brown hair, jogging laps around the pasture every morning and afternoon since I’d arrived. Just watching him made my legs hurt in sympathy. Was the mandatory track and field a cruel and unusual punishment?

  Drawing level with the woodpile where Nadine perched, Kayden stumbled to a halt and braced his hands on his knees. “Shut up, Jasper.”

  “You can do it, Kayden,” Nadine said bracingly. “Mages have to be in great shape to strengthen their magic, so this will all be worth it.”

  “I know,” he panted, his shirt sticking to his back and chest as he stepped into a leg stretch.

  My eyebrows crept up. Huh. So not a punishment, but training? That mages needed to be in good shape was news to me, but it explained why all the ones I knew were in peak physical condition. I’d assumed the guys were just vain—not that I had a problem with it either way, since I enjoyed the view. And in Aaron’s case, more than the view.

  As I drew nearer to the teenagers, Jasper frowned at Nadine, who was focused on Kayden as he stretched. Scowling, Jasper swung his axe down with excessive force. The log split and a piece flipped end over end before smashing into the woodpile a foot from Nadine’s knees.

  “Hey!” she yelled angrily.

  “Sorry!” Jasper took a step back. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Nadine let out a blood-curdling scream and jerked her feet into the air.

  I was running for her before my brain fully registered the terror in her voice. She fell off the woodpile, still screaming, and Jasper and Kayden ran toward her—then backpedaled, their eyes fixed on the ground, Jasper clutching the axe.

  Nadine ran out of air and her scream broke just long enough for me to hear it: the telltale rattle.

  I flew past the chopping block and ripped Jasper’s axe out of his hands. As I charged in, I saw the coiled snake, its rattle a blur. No idea how many feet long, but it was big, fat, and mean.

  Skittering around it, I stuck out the axe head and the reptile’s focus snapped toward the new threat. It raised half its body, coiled in a tight S, ready to strike. I wiggled the axe head, drawing the snake’s attention away from Nadine. Its rattle filled the air with the distinctive hissing clamor, and its diamond-shaped head weaved.

  “Pull Nadine away,” I ordered Jasper.

  He gaped fearfully at the snake, unmoving.

  “Pull Nadine away!” I shouted.

  He jumped, then scrambled into motion. Grabbing her under the arms, he dragged her backward. The snake’s head darted toward her, and I sprang closer, waving the axe head.

  The snake struck, fast as lightning. Its fangs hit the axe blade. As it recoiled, I shoved the top of the axe down on its head, pinning it to the ground. The thick body writhed and I pressed down harder.

  Kayden joined Jasper and they dragged Nadine away. When they were clear, I dropped the axe and leaped backward. The snake coiled into a tighter ball, rattling furiously.

  Kayden crouched beside Nadine’s leg, tugging ineffectually at her pants. I took one look at the blood-smeared punctures in her jeans, just above her ankle, then pushed Kayden aside. Heaving her into my arms, I sped toward the house with Kayden on my heels.

  Jasper ran ahead and opened the door. I swept inside, already bellowing, “Morgan!”

  We burst into the kitchen. Omar and Miesha were at the long island, in the middle of preparing a super-sized bowl of salad for dinner. They gawked at our sudden appearance.

  “Where’s Morgan?” I demanded.

  Omar’s eyes widened. “She—she’s gone for the—”

  “Where’s Terrance?” I cut in.

  “He went to get some—”

  “Is he nearby? Go get him!” I snarled. I set Nadine on the counter, then shoved everything out of the way. Miesha grabbed a cutting board before it fell, then swiftly cleared the island of the salad dishes. With my help, Nadine lay back, her eyes showing white all the way around and her breathing fast and shallow.

  I didn’t think snake venom worked that fast—she was probably just terrified—but I also knew the only type of rattlesnake that lived in these parts was no laughing matter.

  I
swung toward Omar. “She needs a hospital.”

  “But—but that’s—we can’t—”

  “Is anyone here a healer?”

  “No. There are alchemy treatments for snake bites but I don’t—” He broke off, his attention flitting to something behind me. Miesha, Jasper, Kayden, and Nadine went rigid as well.

  I spun around.

  The Ghost had appeared in the kitchen doorway, and I wouldn’t have recognized him if not for the unnatural shadows beneath his hood that concealed his face. Instead of his usual villain coat, he wore a black sweater and lounge pants, his hands and feet bare. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve assumed my shouting had woken him from a nap—but evil rogue mythics didn’t take naps.

  He strode into the kitchen, and Jasper and Kayden scrambled out of his way. His hood moved as he scanned Nadine from head to toe, his attention stopping on the punctures in her jeans.

  “Everyone out.”

  At that raspy, rumbly command, everyone shot for the kitchen door. Everyone except yours truly.

  The Ghost’s hidden gaze appraised me. I planted my feet, hands clenched as I glared at him, silently daring him to blast me into Tori goo. That’s the only way I was budging.

  He flicked his hand at Nadine. “Get her pants off.”

  My hackles rose. Yes, it made sense that her pants needed to come off before her leg swelled, but hearing it from him made me want to throw myself over Nadine and shield her.

  He didn’t wait for me to obey. Sweeping an arm over the counter, he sent a pile of vegetable peelings spilling onto the floor, then strode to the wall of alchemy bottles and pulled down items. With shaking hands, Nadine unbuttoned her fly. I jumped to her side and helped pull her jeans off. Her ankle was already fattening, the skin pink around the twin punctures in her pale skin. She self-consciously pulled her shirt down over her underwear.

  The Ghost pulled more supplies from the cabinet under the shelves, and I watched as he turned to the spot he’d cleared on the counter and drew a circle on the wood in chalk. After filling the white ring with strange symbols, he opened a bottle, poured the yellow liquid into a large bowl, then placed the bowl in the circle’s center. Dried leaves went on top of a drawn symbol. A tiny bowl got a few drops of a green liquid thicker than syrup.

  He worked swiftly, no hesitation in his movements. I glanced at Nadine’s leg, shocked to see how much the swelling had spread. A quiet whimper escaped her, and I caught her hand, squeezing it comfortingly. She gripped my fingers with painful force, panting for air.

  “My face is going numb,” she whispered.

  “You’ll be fine,” I told her, one eye on the Ghost as he added another ingredient to his concoction.

  Pushing the bottles aside, he pulled a steak knife from the block behind him and nudged his sleeve up. Dark tattoos wrapped his forearm—on the top was a pattern like black feathers sweeping down from his upper arm, and on the underside were five elaborate circles, four containing complex runes and one empty.

  He nicked the ink-free skin just above his wrist. Blood dripped onto a rune he’d drawn on the counter. The chalky lines hissed, faint steam rising from them.

  Tossing the knife onto the back counter, he chanted softly, the archaic words rumbling from him in a mesmerizing cadence. The lines of the circular spell hissed louder and began to glow. His voice rose slightly on the final phrase of the incantation.

  Light oozed from the circle. The ingredients he’d added around the center bowl glowed, and tendrils of colored smoke rose from them. The vibrant mist spiraled upward before sucking into the bowl. A puff of rainbow mist whooshed out, then all light and color faded. The ingredients from the outer circle were gone, replaced by piles of powdered ash.

  The Ghost grabbed a white tea towel and ripped it in half, then dunked one piece into the bowl. Carrying it over to Nadine, he pulled the rag out, dripping with greenish liquid, and wrapped the soaked fabric around her swollen ankle.

  She let out a soft breath. After a minute, the cloth began to turn brown. Warily, I watched the stain spread and darken, wondering what the hell was happening. The Ghost waited a bit longer, then pulled the cloth off her leg, opened the cupboard under the sink, and dropped it into the garbage.

  Half an hour of intensive work, three minutes of treatment, then straight into the trash?

  The back of my neck prickled and I looked over my shoulder. Terrance stood in the doorway, and crowded behind him were most of the mythics who lived here. They observed silently, craning to see what was happening.

  The Ghost examined Nadine’s leg—or I assumed that’s what he was doing, but it was hard to tell with the stupid magic shadows in his hood—then pressed his wrist to her forehead, checking her temperature. She stiffened, her eyes wide and pink tinging her cheeks. As he pulled his hand away, I glimpsed the rune tattooed over his palm.

  “Watch over her for the night,” he ordered, directing the command at me. “If the swelling doesn’t go down or if she develops a fever, get Terrance.”

  Then he strode out of the kitchen, the mythics pressing against the walls as he brushed past them. A moment later, the upstairs door banged shut.

  Silence pulsed through the house, then everyone poured into the kitchen, surrounding me and Nadine in a chaotic bustle.

  “Did you see that?”

  “Amazing!”

  “He didn’t check a grimoire once.”

  “He didn’t even measure anything!”

  “Terrance, could you have transmuted a poultice potion that fast?”

  Terrance shook his head. “It would have taken me over an hour on a good day.”

  Jasper’s eyes glowed with admiration. “And that’s why he’s the best alchemist on the west coast. Damn. I can’t wait to start my apprenticeship.”

  “You won’t be apprenticing with him,” another guy snapped.

  I gulped. Yeah, I’d guessed the Ghost wasn’t merely a druid, but there was my confirmation. Kai was right. The Ghost was a di-mythic: a scary dark druid and a gifted alchemist. Oh joy.

  A twinge of pain ran through my hand and I realized Nadine was still clutching my fingers as she stared at the counter. I followed her gaze. Drops of drying blood splattered the wood—the Ghost’s blood.

  “Okay,” Terrance said, his quiet voice cutting through the chatter. “Let’s clean this up and finish dinner. Victoria, will you help Nadine to her room? We’ll bring you two some food.”

  Nodding, I pulled Nadine’s arm around my shoulders and helped her limp out of the kitchen. As we left, the captive mythics cleaned up the mess on the floor while Terrance returned the alchemy ingredients to the shelves.

  In the quiet bedroom, Nadine sat on her bunk and I sat across from her.

  “How do you feel?” I asked.

  “Better.” She stretched her bare leg out and wiggled her puffy toes. “My leg is throbbing but most of the pain is gone.”

  I huffed in relief. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  She peeked at me through her eyelashes. “Thank you.”

  “For what? I wasn’t the one who concocted magical antivenom out of nothing.”

  “You saved me from the snake.”

  “Oh.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t about to let it bite you a second time.”

  “Well … thanks.”

  As she laid back on her pillow, I pulled the blankets over her bare legs and perched on my mattress again, squinting at the ceiling.

  I could explain the Ghost’s quick response as a slave master protecting his investment. But I was having trouble explaining his captives’ reaction. When they’d come into the kitchen, that hadn’t been fear or wariness. It had been respect and amazement.

  Already I’d suspected this wasn’t your typical “captor and his prisoners” scenario, and their open admiration supported my vague theory. Whatever was going on, they didn’t see him as their captor. They saw him as their leader.

  This wasn’t a secret abduction operation disguised as a hippy farm for mythics
. It was a cult. And somehow the Ghost had convinced these people he was their savior. Their guardian. And they would protect him in turn.

  Which meant I couldn’t count on anyone’s help in escaping this place. I was on my own in the worst way possible.

  Chapter Ten

  Ghost Captivity, Day Eight.

  A solid week had gone by, and I was ready to enact my brilliant escape plan, so masterful and unexpected the Ghost would immediately surrender out of respect for my genius. Haha … yeah right. I was in so far over my head I could see the sharks circling above me.

  “So there’s Miesha,” Nadine chattered animatedly as we folded towels on the dining room table, “absolutely cowering in front of this darkfae. I mean, I would’ve been scared too—that thing was free-kay—but all fae scare her, even pixies. Honestly, I don’t know how she’ll ever be a proper witch.”

  Adding a folded towel to the stack and pulling another one off the pile, I asked curiously, “What’s a darkfae?”

  “Type of spirit.” She flicked her bangs out of her eyes. “Don’t quote me on this, because I only learned about them after coming here, but the scary fae are divided into wyldfae and darkfae. Wyldfae are, like … neutral? Mostly neutral? … toward humans. While darkfae are nasty psychos that go out of their way to hurt people.”

  “And a nasty psycho fae just wandered onto the farm?”

  She nodded energetically. “So Miesha is practically peeing her pants, but Shanice strolls right up, gives the fae this look, and tells it not to take another step or the druid will skin it alive.”

  “Shanice said that?” Little twelve-year-old Shanice?

  “Right? She’s totally fearless.” Nadine snapped the wrinkles out of a towel and folded it. “I heard she came from a black witch coven. Morgan mentioned once that Shanice kept trying to sacrifice chickens in her rituals until he had a talk with her. She’s doing better now.”