Dark Heart of Magic (19 page)

Poppy drifted off to talk to some other folks she knew, and Felix tagged along with her. That left Devon and me alone in front of the bonfire. Even though it had been in the eighties today, it was cool down here by the lake, now that the sun had fully set, and I found myself shivering.

“Here,” Devon murmured. “Maybe this will help.”

He reached into his duffel bag, pulled out his black cloak, and draped it over my shoulders. I wrapped the cloak around my body, while Devon sat down in the sand beside me.

We didn't talk for several minutes, just enjoying the
crackle-crackle
of the fire, the steady, soothing,
splash-splash-splash
of the lake against the shore, and the distant murmurs of music and conversation that floated up and down the beach.

Devon reached up and slid his arm around my shoulder. Startled, I looked at him.

“You're not the only one who's cold,” he said, grinning.

“Oh. Right.”

I lifted up the cloak, and he slid in next to me, the warmth of his body soaking into my own and driving away the chill. I breathed in, and his crisp, pine scent filled my nose, even stronger than the trees around us. We stayed like that for a while, my body tense and rigid, Devon's totally relaxed.

I don't know when exactly it happened, but I slowly started to relax too. Devon scooted a little closer to me. I turned to look at him and realized just how close he was. I tried to duck my head, but I was too slow, and my eyes locked with his. My soulsight kicked in, letting me see just how much he cared about me, letting me feel just how intense that spark was deep down inside his heart, the one that flared a little hotter and brighter every time he looked at me.

The care, the feeling, the spark—it all terrified me.

Because I felt the exact same way about him.

We'd had this connection, this warmth, these feelings between us ever since I'd come to work for the Family, and with each passing day, they got harder and harder to ignore, no matter how much I tried.

But I couldn't let myself fall for Devon. Not when I was supposed to be protecting him and the rest of the Sinclairs. Not when I was trying to get my revenge on Victor. And especially not when I was planning to leave Cloudburst Falls as soon as he and the others were safe.

“Lila,” Devon whispered and leaned in even closer to me.

The hot spark in his green, green eyes, the husky sound of his voice, the warm kiss of his breath against my cheek. It was all so romantic—and far too much to bear.

Before I even really knew what I was doing, I shot to my feet, mumbled an excuse, and ran away, just like I had last night on the terrace when he'd held my hands and iced my bruised knuckles. His cloak flew off my shoulders and landed in the sand, but I was too busy stalking away as fast as I could to care.

“Lila—” Devon called out, but I ducked my head, wrapped my arms around my body, and kept moving, as though I hadn't heard him.

I couldn't afford to
let
myself hear him.

A few more folks called out to me, including Poppy and Felix, but I didn't feel like talking to anyone, so I left the beach behind and stepped into the trees. It was darker here, almost pitch black in some spots, but I could see as clearly as if it were noon, thanks to my sight. I stepped off the trail and kept going, moving parallel to the tree line and deeper and deeper into the underbrush at the same time. Finally, I stopped and peered back through the trees at the beach.

Devon stood by the bonfire, looking in this direction, but he couldn't see me through the trees and shadows that separated us. He took a few steps forward, as though he was going to come after me, but he stopped himself. He stared this way for another minute before turning and facing the fire again.

I let out a tense breath, not sure if I was relieved or disappointed he hadn't come after me—

“Looks like I'm not the only one with boy problems,” a voice called out.

Branches rustled, twigs cracked, and Katia stepped out of the shadows and up beside me. She followed my gaze and looked through the trees at Devon.

“You should snatch him up while you can,” she said. “He's one of the good guys.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“Then what's the problem?”

I sighed again. “I'm not one of the good girls.”

She gave me a puzzled look, but I wasn't about to explain my complicated life, so I decided on a simple answer.

“I'm supposed to be Devon's bodyguard,” I said. “Not that he really needs one, but that's my job in the Family, which means that anything else between us makes my job . . . complicated.”

Katia snorted. “Complicated? Really? The only decision you should have to make about a guy like that is where you're going to go to make out with him.”

I winced. “I'm sorry. I'm being stupid and insensitive. I shouldn't even be talking to you about this.”

She snorted again. “Why? Because Felix dumped me? Don't feel bad about that. You didn't dump me, and you're obviously not the girl he's seeing. Besides, it's not like Felix and I made any promises or anything to each other last summer.”

“Then what is it like?”

She shrugged. “I just . . . really liked him. And the closer the tournament got, the more I thought about him. The more I was looking forward to seeing him again.”

Katia looked out over the beach where Felix was standing with Poppy and the Ito guards. Poppy was talking and nibbling on some toasted marshmallows. Felix was right next to her, but he wasn't paying any attention to Poppy. Instead, he was staring at someone at the next bonfire down the beach.

Deah.

She had a cup of lemonade in her hand and seemed to be listening to Blake talk to the other Draconis. But she was staring right back at Felix, ignoring the people around her, many of whom stopped and congratulated her on her victories in the opening rounds of the tournament. Deah finally had to look away from Felix when two of the Draconi guards stepped forward, scooped her up, and started carrying her around on their shoulders. Even from here, I could hear her shrieks of surprise and laughter, and so could Katia.

“I hate people like her.” Katia spat out the words.

“What do you mean?”

“People who get everything they want all the time, without even trying. Without even working for it. Without doing
anything
for it.” She threw her hand out. “Look at her. They're carrying her around like she's already won the tournament. She's rich, pretty, a great fighter, and her dad is the most powerful man in town. Her life is perfect.”

I thought of Deah's mom, all the strange things Seleste said, and how Deah had to watch her all the time. “I'm sure that Deah has her own problems, just like everyone else.”

Katia let out a bitter laugh. “I doubt that. At the very least, her father's not a drunk like mine.”

I followed her dark, hazel gaze over to the picnic table where Carl Volkov was sitting. Well,
sitting
wasn't really the right word. He was slumped over the table, his head resting in the crook of his elbow. A silver flask was cupped in his free hand, and I was willing to bet it was empty of whatever liquor it had contained.

“I'm sorry. That must be tough.”

Katia shrugged. “Not anymore. Not since I quit expecting him to care about anything besides drinking. Besides, I'll be eighteen in a few months. Then I can leave him in New York and move down here like I want to. Uncle Nikolai's already promised me a position. If I win the tournament, he might even name me the Volkov bruiser.”

I stared at her, wondering why she was spilling her guts to me, since I was more or less a complete stranger. Then again, maybe it was easier to reveal your secrets to a stranger, someone who didn't know you and had no expectations about you and your feelings.

“Once I'm down here working for the Volkovs, I can take the prize money I'll get from winning the tournament and go to college at night,” Katia continued. “And once I leave New York, I don't plan on seeing my father ever again.”

“Don't you think that's a little harsh?”

She scoffed. “Are you kidding? With a dad who's drunk all the time? Please. My mom died in a car accident when I was ten, and I've been taking care of myself ever since then. I'm tired of looking out for him too. Besides,
he's
the dad. He's the one who should be responsible, instead of crawling up in a bottle all day, every day.” Even though it was dark, I could still see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, but Katia ruthlessly blinked them back.

“I've spent the last two years busting my ass at tournaments during the summer, trying to save up for college. But all he does is drink away my prize money. Well, not anymore.” She lifted her chin. “Once I win this tournament and get that money, I'll be set, and I'll never have to think about him again.”

Katia gave me a tight smile, then headed out of the trees. She stopped at the picnic table long enough to give her dad a disgusted look, then walked down to the beach. Blake waved her over, and she joined the Draconis by their bonfire. In a minute, Katia was laughing, talking, and joking with Blake and the other guards, as though nothing was wrong.

I stayed where I was, thinking about all the hurt I'd seen in her eyes, as well as her words. Katia wanted to escape, and so did I. But she was running away from something bad, and I, well, I just didn't want to get my heart broken again. Before tonight, I'd never really thought about how sad and lonely that made me.

Or how much of a coward.

I
stayed in the trees a few more minutes and got my turbulent emotions under control before going back down to the beach.

It was getting late, and the pixies were carrying buckets of water up from the lake to douse the bonfires, while everyone else was packing up to go home. Devon was shoving the cloak he'd draped around my shoulders into his duffel bag when I reached him and Felix.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Devon replied in a cool voice, his face blank, deliberately not looking at me.

Maybe that was a good thing. I didn't want to stare into his eyes and see how much I'd hurt him—
again
. Maybe Katia was right. Maybe I was being stupid. Maybe I should just give in to my feelings and risk everything.

Because Devon really was one of the good guys. He cared about me, and I cared about him. Why shouldn't we be together? What was I so afraid of? Another broken heart? My heart had been broken plenty of times before, and it was still strong enough. It could take one more beating . . . couldn't it?

I stepped closer to Devon and opened my mouth, ready to tell him how sorry I was and that I wished I could do the entire night over—

“Can we leave already?” Felix groused, stomping around and kicking sand in every direction. “This party
blows
.”

I looked past him to see Deah talking with Julio Salazar. She laughed at some joke he made, the sound floating across the beach to us. Felix glowered at them, then kicked up another patch of sand.

“Yeah,” Devon said, still not looking at me. “I think it's past time we all went home.”

He zipped up his duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stalked away from the bonfire. Felix kicked up another section of beach, and I spotted something gleaming dully in the sand.

“Hey, what's that?” I said.

I dropped to my knees and started digging through the sand. It only took me a few seconds to uncover the object—a black blade.

Curious, I pulled the sword free. The weapon was still sheathed in a black leather scabbard, as though someone had taken it off and laid it by the bonfire. I frowned. Who would leave their weapon behind? And why?

I held the sword up to the light streaming out from the picnic shelters so I could see the scrollwork better. A single, bushy tree was carved into the center of the hilt, with smaller trees clustered around it.

Devon and Felix realized that I wasn't following them, and they stopped and stomped back over to me, both of them still angry.

“What is it now?” Felix snapped. “Did you find some pirate treasure buried in the sand?”

“Not exactly.”

I showed them the weapon and pointed out the scrollwork. “Do you know who it belongs to?”

Devon frowned. “That's Vance's sword. What's it doing here? He hardly ever takes it off. And where is Vance?”

We looked around, but none of us spotted him walking up the beach and back over to the fairgrounds with the rest of the crowd.

“Maybe he's back at the cars already and just forgot his sword. Let me check.” Felix texted his dad. His phone beeped back a few seconds later, and he shook his head. “Dad hasn't seen him in a couple of hours, and neither has anyone else.”

“Do you think . . . something's happened to him?” I asked. “I mean, this is Vance we're talking about. He never met somebody he didn't want to annoy.”

“He's probably just making out with some girl in the woods and lost track of time. That's what he usually does after the tournament.” Devon sighed, but he reached down and pulled a flashlight out of his duffel bag. “But we'll go look for him.”

“Because you never leave anyone behind, right? Not even guys like Vance,” I said, teasing him and trying to lighten the mood and the tension between us.

“Right,” Devon said, but the corner of his mouth lifted up into a small smile. “Not even guys like Vance.”

Felix texted his dad again, telling Angelo what we were doing. Then Devon snapped on his flashlight, and we started our search.

We checked around the other bonfires first, but Vance wasn't at any of them, and no one could remember when they'd last seen him.

“What's the matter?” Blake sniped when we approached the Draconis. “Did you misplace one of your loser lackeys, Sinclair? Here's a tip. Why don't the three of you get lost, just like Vance did, and stay that way—permanently.”

Blake laughed, and so did all the Draconi guards standing with him. Deah was the only one who didn't join in with their chuckles. I frowned, wondering at Blake's harsh words and whether he knew more about Vance than he was saying. Had he done something to Vance?

“Always a pleasure to talk to you too, Blake,” Devon muttered.

Blake scoffed. “Whatever. We're outta here. Let's go, folks.”

He pushed past Devon, strode up the beach, and started across the lawns. The other Draconis sneered at us a final time, then followed him.

Deah paused a moment. “I hope you find Vance,” she said in a low voice, then headed after her brother.

We kept searching, but we came up empty and eventually wound up back at the Sinclair bonfire, which was nothing more than wet ash now. Devon handed Felix another flashlight from his duffel bag, and the two of them headed up to check the picnic shelters, thinking Vance might be talking to someone up there.

But I stayed by the bonfire, squatting down a few feet away from the wet remains and staring at all the prints in the sand. There were hundreds of them, circling around and around the bonfire before branching off in all directions. But I kept scanning the shore, searching for one very particular pattern. And, after about two minutes, I finally found it.

A boot print.

Vance had been the only person still wearing boots at the after-party, since everyone else had changed back into their regular clothes. So I stepped over to that first boot print and searched the sand for a second one. I spotted it and then several more beyond it, all heading toward the trees on the west side of the beach, the same trees I'd been hiding in earlier, when I'd run away from Devon.

“Hey, guys!” I called out. “Over here!”

Devon and Felix jogged back over to me, and I showed them the prints.

“See? I told you,” Devon said. “Everyone goes into the woods to make out. There's an old boathouse a couple of miles down the shore that people sometimes use, if they can wait that long.”

He looked at Felix, who blushed, and I remembered what Katia had said earlier about their special spot.

Felix cleared his throat. “Anyway, Vance is probably in the woods with someone right now. Let's go find him and drag him home.”

Since I had the best vision, I took the lead, still following the boot prints, which led straight into the woods, just as Devon and Felix had guessed. We stopped at the edge of the trees, and Devon shined his light into the shadows.

“Vance! Come on, dude! Time to wrap it up and go home!” he called out.

No response.

Devon looked at Felix and me, shrugged, and stepped into the woods. We followed him.

I took the lead again, weaving in and out of the trees. Vance hadn't been trying to hide his tracks, so his trail wasn't hard to follow. A broken branch here, some loose rocks there, more boot prints stamped into the ground. But he'd gone much farther into the woods than I had, so far that all the lights and noise from the beach faded away, replaced by the eerie whisper of the wind in the trees.

“Vance!” Devon called out again, annoyance creeping into his voice. “C'mon, man! You can see her tomorrow!”

No response.

Felix flashed his light around. “Um, does anyone else feel like this is turning into a really bad horror movie? You know, three kids go into the woods late at night, none of them come back . . .”

“Well, you can stay here . . . by yourself,” I said in a sweet voice. “Because nothing bad
ever
happens to the person who stays behind while the heroes go investigate the creepy woods.”

He swallowed and looked around again. “I'm just trying to avoid becoming a really bad cliché.”

“Don't be silly,” I said. “This is much worse than a horror movie. We have real monsters around these parts, remember?”

“Way to reassure me,” Felix sniped.

But I drew my sword, just in case he was right. So did Devon.

We kept going, deeper and deeper into the woods. We didn't speak, and the only sound was the
rustle-rustle
of our passage through the underbrush, along with the steady breeze.

The wind was probably the only reason I spotted it.

Something fluttered at the edge of my vision, something that wasn't a shadow, a pile of leaves, or a branch dancing in the breeze.

“Hold up a second,” I called out.

Devon and Felix stopped, shining their lights in my direction. I went over, crouched down, and picked up something smooth and silky from the forest floor. Despite the darkness, I could tell exactly what it was—a white feather from a Sinclair cavalier hat.

So Vance had been back here after all. But the weird thing was that part of the feather was dark and wet as though it had been doused in something sticky. I frowned and stuck the feather out into the beam of Felix's flashlight.

Blood glistened on it.

Felix cursed and almost dropped his flashlight. Devon whirled around, shining his own light back and forth, his sword up and ready in case a monster came charging out of the trees toward us. We all held our breath, but nothing happened.

And I realized that I hadn't heard any natural sounds the whole time we'd been walking. No trolls chattering in the trees, no rockmunks scurrying through the bushes, not even some bullfrogs bellowing out a low, steady chorus.

The woods were quiet—too quiet.

My stomach twisted. I knew what we were going to find, and so did Devon and Felix, from the worried looks on their faces. I got to my feet, and they came over and shined their flashlights all around the area where I'd found the feather. About five feet away, I spotted another one, and then another one a few feet beyond that.

All of them were covered in blood.

I tightened my grip on my sword and followed the blood-and-feather trail. Fifty feet deeper into the woods, I rounded a tree and there he was.

Vance.

He was sitting up against the trunk of a blood persimmon tree, ripe fruit littering the ground around him, and a sweet, sticky scent filling the air. Vance's legs were splayed out in front of him as if he'd had too much to drink and was sleeping it off out here in the middle of nowhere.

“Vance!” Devon called out, hurrying over to his side. “There you are! We were worried about you—”

His flashlight beam fell on Vance, and the words died on his lips. Vance's blue eyes were wide open in pain and fear, and his hands were zip-tied together. His cavalier hat was clutched to his stomach, feathers and all, as if he'd used it to try and stop the blood loss from the deep, vicious cut visible through his white shirt.

And it wasn't the only one.

Almost a dozen cuts marred Vance's arms, chest, and legs, the red wounds looking almost like the black greasepaint a football player would swipe across his skin. A piece of duct tape had been slapped over his mouth to muffle his screams, and his eyes were already cold and glassy.

Dead—Vance was dead.

Murdered.

 

We all stared at Vance. It couldn't have been more than a minute, but it felt like forever. Finally, Devon let out a vicious curse, got to his feet, and ran his hand through his dark hair.

“Who . . . who would do this?” he demanded. “And why? Vance might not have been the nicest guy, but he didn't deserve
this
.”

Felix shook his head and clutched his stomach. He looked like he was going to be sick. Yeah. Me too.

I let out a tense breath. “Let me try something. We can't help Vance now, but maybe we can at least figure out who did this to him.”

“How?” Devon asked.

I told him and Felix about what I'd seen and felt when I'd looked into the eyes of the murdered tree troll that we'd found beside the dumpster off the Midway.

Devon frowned. “And you think that has something to do with this?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. But it's all I can do for Vance now.”

He nodded. “Do it.”

So I sank down on my knees in front of Vance. Devon and Felix moved their lights so that they were focused on Vance's chest instead of glaring straight into his face. I drew in another breath, let it out, and moved over so that my eyes were directly in front of Vance's.

My gaze locked with his, and his pain knifed straight through my heart.

Over and over again, a dagger lashed out, cutting Vance's arms and legs and chest. Every time he tried to move, to run, to get away, he would see the black gleam of the dagger out of the corner of his eye. Then the weapon would erupt out of the shadows and slice into him again—and again—and again.

He couldn't yell, not with that duct tape over his mouth, and he couldn't fight back, since his hands were tied together. But I could hear his silent screams in my head as he staggered through the woods.
No, no, no, no!

And that wasn't the only thing I could hear.

Soft, heartless laughter accompanied every single swipe of the blade, and it didn't stop. Not even for a second. Instead, the laughter got louder and louder, the more pain Vance was in, the more cuts were inflicted on him, the more he
suffered
.