Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2) (3 page)

“I’ll kill you both in a heartbeat. Don’t try me…elf.”

“You will not kill anyone…witch,” she announces, her voice echoing in the room. Their beady eyes scrutinize us as the tension grows heavily. I can practically feel the thick wall conjuring up in mid-air.

“It’s okay, Emily, I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” Miss Canary’s eyes glance up at Donovan.

Rough skin tickles my palms, wrapping around my hand gently. Donovan is holding my hand. He is getting ready to pull me away or throw me somewhere from what’s about to happen. “Why did she try to kill me?” My eyes dart to Emily.

“She’s training you,” Miss Canary explains. “Same thing with Donovan.”

“That’s cruel.”

“I thought it was fun,” Emily mocks, crossing her arms across her chest. In my grimoire I learned about different mystics in my world, magical creatures in your regular fairytale or horror story. They’re totally different than the stories they were in. They’re dangerous and will kill you.

“So you’re helping us? Why would you help us?”

“I want to know the same thing,” Donovan grunts, letting go of my hand.

“To fight against Ravamere, of course. They’re building an army, and not a good one.” Miss Canary’s eyes become sad.

Ravamere.

“My mother…she was there, wasn’t she?” I look around the room, stepping closer to Miss Canary. “We’re trying to figure out why she went there, if you would cooperate.”

She claps her hands together. “Emily,” she says softly, glancing away from us. I’m getting more and more anxious by the second. My nerves are crawling around my body and I’m feeling uncomfortable. I know that something is about to happen. As soon as she said Emily’s name, I knew it wasn’t for anything good. I glance at Donovan slightly and nod imperceptibly.

Donovan and I run to the double doors guarded by elves. The mystics on the tables stop moving around the tableware to look at me. The guards raise their bows and weapons to fire, and I shove Donovan to the side, knowing what is about to come, just how I knew about them planning to attack us.

A fast dart of an arrow misses him by an inch, and I bend over, dodging the attack. I know Emily is behind me. I spin around, punching my arm through the air for her face. She knows this will happen too, and she ducks. She kicks, causing me to trip.

“Dear Eliza, please stop this,” Miss Canary’s calm voice says.

Donovan waves his whip in the air toward Emily; she sidesteps out of the way. The metal from the whip strikes the table, and I cover my face to protect it from flying shards of shattered glass. I kick Emily back since her focus on me is interrupted and run to the guards, avoiding each arrow shot at me. I manage to get behind one of the guards, taking his bow and holding him hostage.

“Let us leave, Terese.”

Miss Canary’s eyes grow wide that I’ve called her by her first name. “So happy you remember our meeting when you were only five.” She walks toward me. “Do you want to know why I gave you that rose?”

Chapter 3

Images from the day we first met assault my thoughts. I release my hold of the elf. Kicking his back, I trip him to the ground, keeping my focus on the mystic. I’ve seen the rose countless times around this area. When I touched it in the forest, something happened. I don’t know what’s going on, because from what I know I locked the rose in Dawn’s drawer back in her room. This whole new world is starting to get stranger by the second.

“Which reminds me, Emily, have you seen Christian anywhere?”

I am immediately reminded me of the note.
Was that the guy in my room with Emily?
He’s too charming to be an elf. Then again, they’re all somewhat elegant.

“No idea where he is, Terese.” Miss Canary waves for the guards and everyone else in the room to leave; they obey their instructions. Miss Canary is now in front of me. Donovan gets up, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the elf.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing or why you gave me that rose,” I say, looking up at her and then Emily. “I’d like to know what is going on.”

“What rose?” Donovan butts in. He wouldn’t understand what’s been happening to me if I provided him with this information.

“I know you remember everything of that day,” Miss Canary says. “Did you really think hiding a rose so valuable in a human’s dresser would solve any of your problems?”

“I remember everything,” I state.

“The rose was a fake. Your mother didn’t want you to have the real one.”

“Why didn’t she?” I step to my right slightly, and she steps to her left. We stare each other down for a minute or two.

“Some influences got in the way.”

“Elaborate.”

“She met a new guy and he sort of changed her—for the worst.” She glances up at me. I remember everything about my mother dying, with the killer being me. “You’re very aware of him. He’s the one who caused her to go to Rav in the first place.”

I can’t take standing around here like I’m not hurt. Donovan looks at me, holding my hand. My broomstick brushes the inside of my hands, dropping to the ground. Tears trickle down the side of my cheeks, and I cover my mouth.

“Rose…” Donovan bends down to pick up my broomstick. I force my way by him, running out of the room and down the stairs in front of me. Elves are entering the castle, stopping to look up at me. I hold back my sobs. I can’t look weak here, so I angrily swipe my tears away.

I walk out of the castle and run toward the fields, the pink and green mist floating around me. I miss my mother; I know she’s in a better place now.

I know that she’d want me to fight for her. I look up at the sky.

I’m fighting for these answers for you, Mom.

The trees and grass sway along with the cool crisp wind. I trudge up the hill hiding the castle. The elves are muttering behind me.

“Let her have her moment.”

I walk down the hill, entering a field of grass, which stops swaying. I stand there, and the grasses spread apart, creating a trail for me to walk through.

The deeper I walk into this entrance, the grass closes in on itself when I have passed, the sharp blades sliding back together. The green markings on my arm glow up the darkness. The sounds of the grass rustling with my movements and the dirt I walk on crumbling soothes my emotions. In front of me the grass spreads apart softly, directing my path. The forest where I encountered that first elf is some distance from where I stand. I walk out of the tall field of grass. It’s so ironic how it pulled Donovan and me in, and we thought we’d die. Turns out some things may seem ugly at first when really, they’re perfectly imperfect.

I follow the pink and green mist, circling around and drifting down into the field. I lay on my back, my auburn hair spread out on the grass. Observing the clouds go by forming their strange shapes, I inhale the crisp, sweet air around me.

The grass stops flowing with the wind, and everything becomes silent. I look at the guy I noticed earlier in my room.

He’s wearing a light green elf outfit, lighter than Emily’s. The blades of grass wrap themselves, cocooning tightly around me. The guy sprints toward me in shock. When I realize what the grass is doing I freak out, trying to break through the cage that holds me captive. I’m paralyzed in my own fear. Holding me tightly, the grass slithers across my mouth; I can’t breathe. I know I’m going to die.

“Calm down and relax,” the guy says, sitting down next to me. Placing his index finger on a few of the blades, he somehow sends a pulse, and a quick burst of green runs through the strands. They stand back up from waving around ferociously, continuing their peaceful sway with the breeze.

He places his hand under my chin, lifting up my face to look at him. His distinctive green hazel eyes give me the once over. I notice the grass isn’t around my body anymore.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a dimple forming in his right cheek.

“Thank you for saving me,” I say.

“No problem, they can be a bit mean at times.” His voice is soothing, and I’m lost in his beautiful eyes.

“Are you talking about the grass?”

“Yeah, they have feelings too.” He helps me on to my feet. “Look around you. The trees can talk, if you cared to listen.”

“I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

He steps to the side, looking at me. I lower my head.

“Hey, you’re not as weird as you think.”

I direct my stare behind him, catching a movement in between the trees.

“I would love to know your name.” He takes my arm, forcing me to look at him.

“Eliza.” The wind blows my hair in front of my face.

He flashes his sharp white teeth. “I’m Christian.”

I trace his markings with my eyes. They’re on the sides of his arms and some on his neck. He’s wearing the same ripped shorts as the others, and when he strides toward the entrance of the forest, I’m aware of the markings on his calves.

This is the elf that was in the forest,
I realize.

He waves up his hands, and the branches untangle themselves. The guy whose letter I found in Miss Canary’s house and Emily’s friend from my room is in front of me.

I follow behind him.

“Why were you crying, Eliza?” he asks.

“It’s nothing I…I uh…” I place my hand on my forehead, remembering how hard it was to talk to cute guys. Back to when Eric and I first had our chat. It was completely awkward. Jared isn’t here to help me either. He disappeared like Mom, only this time he didn’t return. I can’t help thinking he went to the same place she did, because I found his necklace right in front of the bookcase. At least I have someone else to save.

“You uh what?”

“Oh I…uh…yeah,” I snap back, focusing my attention on him.

“So you were crying because, of ‘uh’?”

“Yes.”

There’s absolutely no way I’m going to tell a cute guy that I killed my mom. I’m not going to allow myself to be labeled as some sort of psychotic freak.

“Okay, well you’re definitely not human; you have a strange scent all over you. Are you an elf?” he asks curiously.

Tell him you’re a witch, and he’s gone.

Then again, how can a mystic not know I’m an assassin born to kill him? I’m pretty sure Emily mentioned it or something.

“Want to see something cool?” He looks over at me.

“If it has anything to do with grass trying to kill me, I think I’m good.”

He chuckles, splaying out his fingers. The green and pink mist that I followed to the field begins to circle around his slim body. He takes off his shirt, throwing it on the ground. I step back from the wind he creates. Sharp green markings outline his abs, and his fingers trace the tattoos along his v-cut, on the sides of his love handles. The muscles on his back contract, and he’s now glowing with the mist around him. He steps forward as the trees snap apart, creating an entrance for him.

He looks behind, gesturing for me to follow. I’m not too sure if this is a smart thing to do, following an elf into a forest. His tricks and illusions could kill me.

I step to where Christian is holding out his hand for me to grasp. There’s something about this mystic that is pulling me. I feel like everything I’m trying to resist, everything I’m trying not to trust about him, it’s all crushed. I want to trust him. I
want
to be with him. He looks behind me, pulling my hand until he can take hold of my waist. The mist circles around us, wraps around my wrist. Christian looks up at me; our touch freezes against my palm.

This sensation is different…it feels amazing.

It’s not the same sensation with the rose; this is soothing and calming. I look down to my feet as they lift slightly.

“Don’t be afraid—I’ve got you.” We proceed to float.

Christian hugs my sides. We’re now completely in the air, the trees spread apart for our entrance. The leaves sing my name and the mist gently rubs right above my cheeks. We’re not that high in the sky, we’re floating.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s called mist. Only certain elves can control it here in Ellevil.”

“I’m afraid of heights.”

I hold the side of his arm, gripping on his muscles while he chuckles.

“Relax, Eliza, you won’t fall. I’ve got you.”

There is panting and the sound of boots crunching the grass. I move my head slightly to the right and look down. Donovan is racing after me. He trips in the field of grass, and the sea of green wraps around him. He doesn’t know what’s going on. I do, and I can’t tell him to relax. I pat Christian’s arm.

“Can you put me down?”

He looks over at me, flicking his fingers at the trees. They snap back together since we’re completely inside the forest. “The fun is about to begin.”

There’s a clump of trees blocking my sight of Donovan. He needs my help. All of these times he’s saved me and I can’t even save him once. The wind brushes against my face, the pink and green mist circling around us. Christian is beaming, revealing the ends of his sharp teeth. I try to tell him I have to go back and save my friend.

“Hold on tight.”

We’re now spiraling up toward the treetops. I clamp my mouth shut in fear.

“You have to open your eyes. You have to experience this, Eliza.”

I hesitantly crack my eyes open. We’re in the middle of the long branches he was running on last night. A slice of purple sky is between the many branches we fly through, then the mist gently sets us down on a branch.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he says, glancing at me.

“What is?”

Christian shakes his head, waving out his hand. The trees spread, revealing a better view of the purple sky.

“Wow,” I look up.

“I didn’t want you to miss the view with me.” I only saw the purple in between the branches; now it’s clear how magical this world really is.

Christian scoots next to me. “I know you’re afraid of heights. I’m here with you. Don’t look down,” he says, touching my hand. He lifts my head up. “You have green eyes like me.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they’re green.”

“Just because you’re a witch doesn’t mean you have to be covered in silver.”

I look at him sharply. “How did you know?” I shake my head. “Of course you knew.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m a ‘mystic’, or so you witches call us.” He snaps a twig off the branch, rustling the leaves.

“Trees have feelings, ya’ know,” I say.

I raise my eyebrows at him; he bites on the slim twig, looking at me.

“You’re right.” He pets the bark from where he snapped his chewing piece.

“You’d allow a witch to be in the woods with you?” I gaze off at the fireflies floating in between my eyes as the purple sky bleeds into a dark blue.

“Aren’t elves excellent escapists and illusionists?”

“What would you say if this was all an illusion I’m creating to steal your heart?”

“That would be cruel.”

“Don’t go on calling me corrupt when the illusion is supposed to romantically captivate you.”

Christian lays down on his back, placing his foot on the bark and twirling his fingers in the air, playing with the glowing fireflies. The mist comes back around us, and my thoughts fade away. I was coming up with a clever comeback; now I’m brain dead.

“What exactly is this mist?” I ask.

He holds out his hand, and some of the colors land on his palm. “Think of it as older elves who’ve died.” He looks over at me. “For some reason they like you.”

I hold out my hand and many green and pink little dots float above my skin.

“If they didn’t, we wouldn’t be up here together,” Christian says.

The mist floats upward into the leaves, and I glance at the markings on his legs.

“Last night, it was you, wasn’t it?”