Believe: The Complete Channie Series (40 page)

It
was harder than she thought. Enchantment drained Channie’s heart-of-hearts resisting Chastity’s lethal magic. It did not want her to kill Harvey.

The words from the Book of the Dead floated before Channie’s eyes.
“Daughter of power, conquer your fear, for in the fire, your path becomes clear. For every choice there is a cost and the things you lose are forever lost.”

The words were out of order, but the message couldn’t be more clear. She had to choose between her duty, her family’s safety and her true name. Enchantment could not survive the dark magic required to kill another human being.

If Harvey weren’t a mage, she could just call the police and let them handle it. But magically disabled cops would not be able to keep a mage in custody. Not even one as weak and untalented as Harvey. If he raped or killed anyone else, it would be Channie’s fault and she couldn’t live with that, not even if it meant destroying Enchantment.

Twice she thought she’d accomplished her duty when Harvey passed out and quit screaming. Each time he recovered, Channie’s guilt increased—not because she was killing him, but because she was taking so long to do it—prolonging his misery like a barn cat toying with a mouse. She was holding back and stopping too soon, trying to protect Enchantment even though she knew it was futile. She needed to commit to her decision and end this before Chastity was completely drained.

This time she didn’t wait for Harvey to regain consciousness. Smoke curled out of his gaping mouth and charred nostrils. She’d expected Enchantment’s magic to grow weaker and fade away, but it fought her to the end and died suddenly, with a burst of power. It was like releasing a sling shot. With nothing holding it back, Chastity’s energy blasted out of Channie with so much intensity it melted the flat plastic buttons on the front of Harvey’s shirt—rounding them into little balls that clung to the scorched fabric like ticks on a dog.

When it was over, Channie collapsed against the side of the door and gasped for breath. She stared at Harvey’s blackened flesh and opaque, dead-fish eyes—afraid he might somehow come back to life and attack her while she was weak and defenseless.

Harvey was no vampire or zombie out of some horror movie. He was just a man, every bit as evil and monstrous as any undead fictional character, but he didn’t have the power to rise again. He was really dead this time and he was going to stay that way. 

Channie
wanted to get out of the car and never stop running, but she had no idea where she was or how far she’d have to go before she was out of the woods—literally.

Her cell phone didn’t have any service so she couldn’t call for help. Besides, that would be incredibly stupid. She knew in her heart that killing Harvey was the right thing to do, but the police might not see it that way. Especially since she couldn’t explain how she’d done it with magic. Even if they didn’t arrest her, they’d turn her over to a social worker or stick her in foster care. She needed to get to Aunt Wisdom before the next full moon if she had any hope of escaping this curse.

It would be much smarter to take the car. Channie didn’t know how to drive, but how hard could it be? The first step was to get Harvey out of the driver’s seat.

She held her breath and leaned over his still-smoking body to release the locks. The driver’s side door fell open. Channie flew back to the passenger’s seat, braced her back against the door, put one foot on Harvey’s shoulder, the other on his hip and shoved with all her might.

He slid out at an angle. His head hit the ground first, then his shoulders. But his legs, from the knees down, remained in the car. Channie screamed in frustration then opened her door and got out. She grabbed one of Harvey’s hands and pulled, dragging him another six inches out of the car. His right foot was caught under the seat. She grabbed the hem of his trousers and yanked his foot free.

Channie didn’t want to sit on the piss soaked upholstery and opened the trunk to look for a blanket or something to cover the stain. What she found turned her stomach... a roll of duct tape, a box of heavy-duty garbage bags, a hand gun and a bone saw.

Harvey never had any intention of turning her over to the Veyjiviks.

She held onto the back bumper and dry heaved into the bushes then gritted her teeth and fashioned a seat cover out of the plastic bags and duct tape. She tried not to think about what Harvey had planned to do with these items as she climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door.

The keys were not in the ignition. She searched everywhere including under the floor mats, inside the console and glove box. They had to be on Harvey.

She tried to explore his pockets with a twig, but it didn’t work.

It took Channie several minutes to work up enough courage to touch him. She slid her hand into his left pocket, but didn’t find anything. She turned it wrong side out. Nothing but lint.

Without giving herself a chance to think about it, she reached across his body and shoved her hand inside his other pocket—and pulled out four keys attached to a small metal ring.

She adjusted the rear-view mirror and barely recognized her own reflection. Both eyes were purple and nearly swollen shut. Her lower lip was split and her nose was crooked. She probed her injuries with her fingertips and marveled that she hadn’t noticed the pain before now.

It took Channie over five minutes to cast what should have been a five-second healing spell using Chastity’s negative energy, but when she was done, she didn’t have so much as a bruise.

She scooted the seat forward so she could reach the pedals, then realized she didn’t know which ones did what. There were three of them instead of two which further complicated matters. She’d just have to experiment. She studied the diagram on the little knob between the seats. It was easy enough to figure out that the “R” was for reverse, but she couldn’t get the knob to stay in that position. Maybe it had to be in the “1” position to start the car.

The first couple of times she turned the key, the engine coughed as the car lurched forward, but immediately died. She kept trying even after the engine refused to turn over, but when the starter quit grinding, she banged her head against the steering wheel and screamed.

It wasn’t fair, but sitting in a dead car next to a dead body wasn’t going to get her any closer to Aunt Wisdom’s house and it wasn’t helping her state of dehydration. Channie couldn’t remember ever being this thirsty. She got out and knelt in front of a puddle of rainwater. She didn’t have much energy left after frying Harvey and healing herself, but she used what she had left to kill the bugs, bacteria and parasites in the puddle. She skimmed the surface of the water with a twig to clear away the residual debris, but only managed to swallow two mouthfuls before the taste of rotted vegetation made her gag. Puking her guts up was not an option.

She took the cash out of Harvey’s wallet and the gun out of the trunk.

Channie was a good shot with a rifle, but she’d never even seen a pistol. The body count movies she’d watched with Josh and violent video games he was so fond of didn’t prepare her for the rush of adrenaline as she pressed the textured grip against her palm.

Chastity’s magic was strong but not invincible. Harvey’s drugs had proved just how vulnerable she was. But that vulnerability worked both ways. Even the most powerful mage couldn’t stop a bullet. If she’d had a gun when Harvey was beating her, things would have ended much sooner and she’d still have Enchantment’s magic in her heart-of-hearts.

She pointed the muzzle at the ground and examined the gun. There was a small switch near the grip, it must be the safety. She pushed it with her thumb. The gun fell apart. Or at least the handle did. She picked the small rectangular box up off the ground and slid it back inside the handle. She never found a safety switch and decided to remove the magazine again to keep from discharging the gun accidentally.

But what if there was still a bullet inside the chamber? She aimed at a dark spot on a rotted stump about fifty feet away and pulled the trigger. The thing kicked like a mule and nearly knocked her off her feet. Birds and critters scattered then fell silent. Channie missed the mark, but at least she hit the stump. She pulled the trigger again. A quiet click assured her the gun was empty. She slid the magazine into her pocket and tucked the gun into her waist band, over her left hip, then grabbed her pack out of the back seat, strapped it on and started walking.

As the adrenaline left her system, Channie’s exhaustion made it hard to put one foot in front of the other, but she refused to stop. The skies were clear now, but that could change. It was cold enough that each breath fogged the air. Hypothermia was a legitimate concern, especially if it rained again. She needed to find shelter before nightfall. She walked for over an hour without seeing any sign of civilization other than the trail she was following.

A faint beep stopped her heart. She froze mid-step, left foot in the air, then pulled the gun out of her waistband as she dropped to one knee, but still felt exposed. Her hands shook as she fumbled the magazine into the handle and yelled, “Show yourself!”

Channie’s shout silenced the birds and insects, but not the beeping. She focused on the source of the sound until her ears rang—and found it in the side pocket of her backpack. It was her phone.

The words, “Missed Call” flashed beneath Josh’s photo. The tiny image punched a hole through Channie’s heart. She secured the gun then sat on the ground, until she could breathe again.

She desperately wanted to call Josh, especially after the vision she’d had of him crying, but decided to check her messages first. Unless Josh were in danger, she wouldn’t call him. He needed to forget about her and focus on Kassie and their baby.

Her voicemail was completely full.

There were eight variations of...“Channie? It’s Josh, call me back,” followed by three angry messages informing her that she was behaving like a child, a jealous control freak, and finally...a bitch. Nice. Channie almost hung up, but the next message made her gasp out loud …

“I did not get Kassie pregnant! How could you think that? She’s my cousin.”

Channie’s heart leapt into her throat. She clutched the phone so tightly her fingers ached.

“… I was trying to comfort her because...well, because she’s pregnant and she doesn’t know how to break it to Eric. I still can’t believe you thought I’d cheat on you. I am so pissed off, but I love you. Call me. We can work this out.”

The rest of the messages were variations of “Forgive me, call me, where are you, and I love you.” Each of them shattered her broken heart into smaller pieces.

She disconnected from her voicemail, pressed the number two button, and held her breath.

Josh
picked up on the first ring. “Channie! Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I have no idea where I am. Why didn’t you tell me Kassie was your cousin?”

“I thought you knew. What do you mean you don’t know where you are?”

“I got kidnapped by this creep—”

“WHAT! What do you mean you got kidnapped? What happened?”

“Calm down, it’s okay. I killed him.”

“WHAT!”

“Quit yelling. You’re hurting my ear.”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay.” Josh did not sound okay. His voice was raspy and about two octaves higher than normal. “Look, Channie, hang up and dial nine-one-one. The cops can find you using the emergency locater in your phone.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I killed a man.”