Halfway Hexed (39 page)

He was lying half on top of me, for warmth and from exhaustion. “I know. Part selkie, my ass,” he said. “I think halfway across my feet turned into blocks of ice and fell off.”

Mercutio hopped on top of us, across our shoulders like a warm, silky feline blanket. He licked our faces. It was nice to have his body protecting our heads from the rain.

“I really can’t understand why you wouldn’t want to ignore the prophecy and be with me forever,” Bryn said. “I always show you such a good time.”

I laughed and kissed the side of his face before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to let myself do that anymore. “I’ll miss you, but I won’t ever miss all this craziness.”

He pushed himself up and held out a hand to me.

“For the love of—” Aunt Mel snapped.

I turned my head sharply toward her voice. She was tangled in the branches, trying to climb through.

Bryn frowned, but, without a word of complaint, he went back in the water and helped her get to the road. Another reason a part of me would love him until I died.

Melanie shook, dragging her boots off and dumping the water out of them. “Awful. Really bloody awful.”

I raised my brows.

“What?” she asked.

“You talked with an accent.”

“Oh,” she said, and then, in her normal American voice, she said, “I’m part English and I was just in England. Sometimes the accent comes back of its own accord.”

I stared at her, flabbergasted. “Who are you?”

“Still the same Aunt Melanie who loves you, just with a few secrets to confess. I’ll tell you everything,” she said. Looking briefly at Bryn, she added, “Later. When we’re alone.”

Bryn rubbed his wounded arm. “Ready?” he asked me.

I nodded. “Aunt Mel, I guess you’re coming with us, but you should stay back and out of sight. You can be our backup if we get caught or wounded or something.”

She didn’t answer. She’s not much for taking orders from people her own age, let alone somebody she taught the ABC’s to.

We walked up the road, our feet slapping in the water, rain blowing against us. There were no trees on the road to act as shelter, so by the time we got to the top, I felt ready to collapse.

“You know how in summer the concrete’s so hot it can give you second-degree burns if you walk to the mailbox without flip-flops on?” I rubbed my arms, shivering. “I’m never going to complain about that again.”

Bryn bent down and took a gun from an ankle holster. He handed it to me and pointed toward the chapel with a swirl of his finger that I took to mean we were going around.

I followed him, Mercutio sauntering along next to me and Aunt Melanie a few feet behind.

Bryn stopped abruptly and I bumped into him. “There are wards,” he said.

I looked at him expectantly. He put a hand out as if to feel them. Melanie stepped forward, too. She put her hands up, then took a sharp step back. She drew her brows together, frowning.

“President John Barrett from the World Association of Magic is the one who’s up here?” she asked.

Bryn nodded, still focused on the invisible wards. He shoved a hand out, and I felt a frizzle of Bryn’s power arc through me. My breath caught, my stomach lurching. He grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.

We circled the chapel and stopped when we saw a tarp drawn across four posts. Sitting under it in a large deck chair was John Barrett. There was a fire in the center, and a cup of tea on a small table next to him. Outside the make shifttent, there were six twelve-foot spikes whose pointed tips stabbed the sky. Lightning rods.

“You shouldn’t have come. I suspected you would, but you really shouldn’t have,” he called.

“I had to come,” I said.

“Not you, my dear. You’re perfectly safe.” He and Bryn locked eyes, and Barrett stood. “You should have been smart, Lyons, and got out when you could.”

Aunt Melanie lurched forward and grabbed my arm, yanking me to face the chapel. “Say what I say,” she snapped.

Earth alive within us free.
Enclose and protect just we three.

She squeezed my arm hard, and I spit out the words.

I didn’t see or feel whatever hit us, but it crashed through the barrier I’d tried to create and knocked me and Bryn and Aunt Mel down.

“Enclose,” Bryn shouted, putting his arms out.

Something hit his enclosure with a loud crash and a flash of white light.

The Winterhawk emerged from the building’s doorway where she’d been out of sight. She wore a black slicker and hat, like a sinister version of
The Old Man and the Sea
. Sleek and calm under her large umbrella, she defied the blowing rain, seeming unaffected by its bite.

Aunt Melanie paled to the color of milk.

“I thought so,” Aunt Mel whispered. Then, her voice a bit louder, she said, “Hello, Aunt Margaret.”

What?

All the blood pooled in my feet, and I swayed.

What?

Chapter 37

“Hello, Melanie. Where’s Marlee?” the Winterhawk asked.

“Wait. What?” I asked. The superspy assassin/bodyguard witch was my relative?

Merc yowled that he wanted an explanation, too. Aunt Mel didn’t respond.

“Your sister’s not with you. That’s a problem, isn’t it? You’re always so much stronger together. And recent intelligence reports that your powers have been drained. How did that happen?”

Melanie’s posture was rigid, like she was made of white marble. Only the rippling of the wind through her hair made her look real.

The Winterhawk walked slowly in a semicircle until she stood in front of Bryn. “You have a single chance to live, my lad.” Her voice was a terrible whisper that cut through the wind in the strangest, most ominous way. “No, don’t harden yourself. Hear me out.”

He stared at her.

“She,” Mrs. Thornton said, pointing at me, “belongs to us, to our family. If you foreswear any claim to her, if you make a solemn vow to never approach any of us again, you may go unharmed.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

“You can’t hope to win a battle of magic. You’re weakened, your magic depleted from the disastrous spell you cast last week. Even if you weren’t drained, you couldn’t defeat me.”

She raised a hand and with a slight flick of her wrist, she whispered, “Slice.”

He winced and blood appeared on his right cheek.

“Don’t!” I said with a gasp and raised my gun reflexively.

Her cool green gaze skimmed me from head to toe, and I flushed. Apparently, she was kin to me and even if she hadn’t been, I believed in respecting my elders. But I liked Bryn’s face how it was. I wouldn’t stand for anyone cutting it with razor-blade magic.

“Somewhat ironic, Maggie,” John Barrett said with a low chuckle. “Little girl,” he said to me. “Haven’t you wondered why in the past few days, bullets intended for you never hit their target? You’ve been under a protective spell. One so smooth, I dare-say, it’s even sent bullets that were intended for others astray when you got in the way. Who do you think cast the spell on you?”

“Lower the gun,” Mrs. Thornton said.

I looked at Bryn, then Aunt Melanie. Neither of them said anything.

“Will you promise not to hurt anyone?” I asked Mrs. Thornton.

“That is entirely up to your friend.”

“It’s not only up to Bryn. I can swear not to see him. In fact—”

“Would I believe you without something binding?” Mrs. Thornton scoffed. “You look at him as though he’s a chocolate you’d like to swallow in one bite. Would I take your word you’d avoid him? Without a blood vow, I think not.”

I blushed. “I don’t—well, he’s—What’s a blood vow?”

“Tamara,” Bryn said with a sharp shake of his head. “Nothing that’s completely binding. Nothing irreversible. You need a way out, if you change your mind.”

Mrs. Thornton flung her hand, and magic cut through the air, slashing his shirt and cutting the skin beneath. Blood welled.

“Stop it!” I said, putting my hand on the wound. It wasn’t deep.
Yet.
His magic obviously couldn’t keep hers from hitting us.

“Are you willing to give up the child?” Mrs. Thornton asked. “You know, by rights, she belongs to us, to the line that she was born to.”

I cocked my head. She called me a child. And John Barrett had called me a little girl. Is that how they saw me? What had that prophecy said? Had Lenore meant me? What if I was the child Bryn wouldn’t give up?

“Why does he have to let me go?” I asked.

“Because you’re the key to mending a broken line,” Mrs. Thornton said. “You’re not to be used as a source of power for another family. If you are untrained,
we
will train you. It’s our obligation and our privilege.

“You must understand, my dear. Some men are evil, but even the ones who are well-intentioned convince themselves that a woman is better off relinquishing her power to her lover. Anytime a witch gains the upper hand, it is because she fought for and won it.”

I glanced at John Barrett. He leaned calmly against a post and shrugged.

“President Barrett hasn’t tapped into the power of the tor. You’re connected by blood to Momma and Aunt Mel and me. You’re the one drawing power from the tor for this storm,” I said.

“Yes.” She walked slowly, dragging the tip of her umbrella in the mud to mark a circle around us. I glanced anxiously at Bryn, but he didn’t seem worried that she’d trap us inside. “Young Lyons, will you take a spell to answer truthfully while in this circle?” she asked him. “So that the child can truly judge your motives for wanting her?” she asked.

He hesitated, and I stared at him, waiting.

“Can’t you promise to tell me the truth?” I asked.

He walked to the groove she’d drawn and held the fingers of his wounded arm over it, dripping blood. I felt a current of power close around us.

In this circle, I speak truth alone, as any may implore
If not, then let my soul be lost and my heart stop ever more

I gasped. Not a vow that would kill him. “Wait!”

He held his arms out in a gesture of surrender, as if to say: “This is what you asked for.”

“It’s done,” he said.

Mrs. Thornton didn’t hesitate. “This child is so very untrained, and you’re a Granville Prize winner.” She narrowed her eyes. “You have magical synergy with her. You will subjugate her, making her a power source for you. You will be the one casting and controlling all the spells.” The Winterhawk inclined her head. “Do you deny it?”

“Yes, I deny it,” Bryn said. “I want her to develop her potential. I don’t intend for her to be just a preternatural battery for me.”

“She doesn’t need your help developing her powers. I’m home now,” Aunt Mel said. “Tammy, Aunt Margaret’s harsh, but she’s not wrong. You can’t risk everything for a man, honey. No matter how good-looking he is. No matter how magnetic. Ask me why you shouldn’t, and I’ll tell you a dozen terrible stories—”

“Under what circumstances would she be the one leading the spell-casting with you supplying power for her?” Mrs. Thornton asked Bryn.

“If a situation were better suited to Earth magic and if she could write a better spell than I could to accomplish the desired ends, I’d give her my power to cast it.”

“Would she be able to write a better spell than you?”

He hesitated.

“Come, let’s have no false modesty. There are few in the world who could exceed your talent for spell-writing. Do you really believe that she could ever be superior in that regard?” she snapped.

My heart thumped hard, my body frozen, waiting for his response. He’d always had faith in me. All he had to do was confirm that.

He turned his head to stare at me. “I wouldn’t exploit you, Tamara. I’m in love with you.”

My eyes widened, and my heart sped.

“Love isn’t enough of a guarantee,” Aunt Mel protested. “It doesn’t always last, and tapping into that kind of power, it corrupts. It always corrupts.”

“I will have an answer to my question,” Mrs. Thornton said. Lightning bolts cracked the rods, shaking the ground. I jumped, putting up my hand.

“Stop,” I said to her. “It’s enough.”

“What is your answer, young Lyons?”

He glanced back at her. “No, she’ll never write a better spell than I could.”

“Then if you love her, you must give her up, because in a synergistic relationship with you, she could never reach her potential. She could never have daughters with Earth magic. She could never inherit all that is her birthright. For her own sake and yours, let her go.”

Bryn stared at me.

“Will you swear it?” Mrs. Thornton demanded.

His eyes never left my face. “No,” Bryn said. “I won’t promise to give her up.” He shook his head slowly, his eyes smoky cobalt. “There’s no place you can go, Tamara, where I won’t follow. No matter how far. If you leave me, I will find you. So long as we’re in love with each other, I’ll be relentless.”

My eyes swam in tears. The line between supernatural stalker and irresistibly romantic boyfriend can be kind of blurry at times. I stared at him with words caught in my throat.

“It’s all right.” His fingertips grazed my jaw. “Resist as long as you want. I’ll seduce you in the end,” he whispered. “I’ll have to because I can’t let you go.”