Hopeless Magic (11 page)

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Authors: Rachel Higginson

Tags: #Fantasy, #Young Adult, #Romance

BOOK: Hopeless Magic
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At first our struggle resembled something like tug-of-war. I pulled a little magic back and he re-took the electricity again. I held my breath, not even allowing the effort of breathing to weaken my attempts. I pulled again, holding the small amount of magic in place for a second, and then a second longer and then two seconds longer.

A drop of sweat from his forehead landed on my nose and I realized, finally, that he was weakening. With renewed vigor I pulled another miniscule amount of energy from his veins into mine, holding onto it until I was sure it belonged to me once again. The next pull was longer still and the amount of magic enough to give me strength to continue.

I pulled and pulled and pulled, until I had drawn what was mine, and, more out of his pathetic veins. I pushed him off me with minimal effort and stood next to his body. He looked up at me with a primal fear, but even more than fear, with 161/711

hate. I turned away, fully intending on leaving him just like that.

I walked five feet, but it was not enough. Suddenly I was flying through the air, face first into the building I had half destroyed earlier. I burst through the destroyed brick, sending shrapnel and dirt all over the pristine lobby. I landed in a crumpled heap, thankful he hadn't taken any of my magic yet.

In only a few seconds I stood and crossed the distance between us. Sending a burst of magic at his kneeling figure, I knocked him to the ground with an unadulterated hate I didn't know I was capable of. Before he could even react I had begun extracting what was left of his magic, and I did not stop until he was completely drained, laying in a crumpled heap at my feet.

I stood above him, greedy with power, letting the new magic join my own, rushing, pumping, and intermixing with my blood. The electricity inside of me was hot with power, jumping and popping like bolts of lightning.

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"Kill me," the man whispered hoarsely from his prostrate position on the cold, iced over concrete.

"For the love of God, kill me."

I finally looked down at the crippled shell of a man and my heart unwillingly broke. What had I just done? Who was I? I wasn't a murderer. I couldn't take what wasn't mine just because he was willing to. Whoever this man was, I was not like him. I could not return the same hate.

He grabbed my foot weakly with both hands, begging me to end his misery. I closed my eyes, unable to look at him any longer and the tears streamed down my face. A choking sob escaped without permission and I failed to see any other option before me.

But then, to my great relief, a green SUV suddenly came to a screeching halt on the battle-torn street, destruction caused by my own hand.

Avalon and Jericho jumped out of the still-running vehicle and were at my side in moments.

Avalon, now sharing not only my consciousness, but my emotions as well, opened his arms to me 163/711

and I fell into them. I wept heavily, unable to calm my broken heart. I couldn't have really been about to kill him.

Jericho shouted orders at Avalon, who shouted back, but refused to let go of me. I held on to him tighter, afraid he would obey Jericho's heartless commands. I was aware of Jericho tying the man up and carrying him to the trunk of his vehicle. I was also aware of Avalon depositing me into his back seat, never once leaving my side.

In minutes Jericho had dropped us back at Avalon's truck and had sped away into the heart of Omaha. I didn't know what Jericho would do with him, and I was not sure I really cared. The only thing that mattered to me now was that whatever happened to that horrible man would no longer be my decision.

In the safety of Avalon's truck, the tears had stopped. The horror had lessened and the stolen magic was now as much a part of my blood as my own. I realized then, that that particular assassin was not the only one out there with 164/711

murderous intentions. I was naive to believe my identity was a secret and I was stupid to believe that only Lucan would be interested in the precious magic only Avalon and I carried.

He would not be the last adversary I would have to fight and he would not be the last attacker I drained of all vital immortality. I was fighting a battle bigger than myself, bigger than a love affair, and much bigger than high school. Lines were being drawn and barriers being crossed. The war had begun and my indecision would no longer stand.

11.

"Morning," Avalon grunted to me on the way back from the bathroom.

"Mmmm-hmmm...." I responded sleepily. I rubbed at my face and walked bleary-eyed towards the direction Avalon was coming from.

I was exhausted from last night. The assassin's dark and ominous face was still burned in my memory and I shivered as I brushed my teeth. I wrapped one arm around myself and stared confused at my ragged reflection in the mirror. Who was the girl staring back at me?

My hair was a tangled mess of impossible curls, extra frizzy from going to bed with them wet.

Showering last night was a non-issue after coming home caked in dirt, grime, blood and the filthy feeling of being so near such a possessive evil. My eyes were clear of makeup and my face washed out and paler than normal. I looked ten 166/711

years older at least; I half checked my head for grays.

I felt worse than even ten years older, more like thirty. I reminded myself I was only sixteen, my birthday was still four months away; but over the last three months I felt as though I had aged well beyond my decade and a half of life.

Shoudn't I be more concerned with shopping and cheer-leading than with civil wars and living for eternity? For someone who was supposed to have immortal life, I have spent most of my time trying not to die.

The thing was, as cool as the whole magic and immortality life was, I could have been equally as happy living a normal life and dying of old age, or dying really, at any age. When I thought I was human, I accepted that death was a part of life; like Kiran once told me, when there was a cost to living, living became that much more significant.

Now that I seemingly had the rest of eternity to live, my life was threatened at every turn. I didn't 167/711

know many other high school girls fighting assassins and bounty hunters, and hiding from kings. Even Avalon couldn't relate, although thanks to the connection he could at least empathize, although not by choice. But even still, he chose his path in this life, and not only that, no one had signaled him out so universally.

Maybe I was just being a drama queen, but I didn't ask to carry the weight of an entire race on my shoulders. I didn't ask to be so powerful or so significant. I had always been happy fading into the background. Where was the normality to this life? The security and sense of safety? I was going to give myself a heart attack from paranoia.

I couldn't even stay home from school today.

Last night I fought a nasty battle, where my life was practically taken from me. I may have won, but it was at a terrible price. I thought that justi-fied taking a personal day.

Nobody else thought so though. The powers that be, namely, Amory, Jericho and Avalon didn't want to raise suspicion. If I were to stay home, 168/711

questions would be raised.... People would be sent to look for me.... Actions would be taken....

And so forth and so on. When Amory came over late last night, he informed me that as of right now, nobody knew what had happened to me or the other guy. Whoever sent the attacker could still be hoping for the best, still be hoping that I was dead. If I showed up at school today as if nothing happened, and clearly I survived, that would send a message.

I wasn't sure I actually wanted to send a message.

Especially not a threatening-it's you're move, what are you going to do about it now kind of message. I might as well have worn a t-shirt that said something like, "Hey bad guys, I'm here, I'm fine, no worries. I'll be ready whenever you want to, you know, try to kill me again."

A knock on the door brought me out of my internal rant. I could sense the magic from the other side of the door and realized that it was Jericho.

After doing who knew what with the idiot who tried to kill me, he was assigned house duty here 169/711

with Avalon. It was Amory's idea of upping security.

"I'll be out in a sec," I mumbled gruffly, working on the knots in my hair. And then saying, "Screw it," I threw my hair into a high bun, wrapping it impossibly through a hair tie over and over again until it was secure. I contemplated going sans makeup as well, but decided against it for the sake of all decency.

Smearing on some thick, black eyeliner and charcoal eye shadow, and topping it off with some lash-extending mascara, I looked goth chic and was kind of digging the style. My onyx eyes gave me a wild, dark appearance and a feral feeling swept over me. Finishing the look with a deep, scarlet lip gloss, I called it good and opened the door for Jericho.

"Sorry," I grunted, taking in his expression while his eyes swept over me. "It's all yours." Jericho stood in the doorway, blocking my path. I could tell he was not quite sure what to make of my gothic appearance.

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"No problem," he stood there still, unmoving, staring into my eyes.

"Hey, um, thanks for finding me last night," I put all of my weight onto one leg, fidgeting nervously.

"Avalon's really the one who found you. I just, um, I didn't know what he would find
when
he found you. You really scared me, um, us. You really scared us," he repeated, his voice breathy.He smiled shyly before taking a step forward, as if he were trying to get into the bathroom but then remembered I was in the way. He stopped suddenly, but didn't attempt to take a step backwards.

"Well, thank you anyways. I wasn't sure what would happen to me either," I said quietly, realizing I didn't mind his closeness.

"It's just, you're really important to me, I mean the Resistance. You're really important to the Resistance," his voice trailed off and I watched him swallow strongly. I stared at him for a moment, realizing I owed him a lot.

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"Eden, we're going to be late," Avalon called too loudly from the top of the stairs. I jerked out of my thoughts and gave Jericho an apologetic smile.

I brushed past him, and when our magic met, his was strong and pulsing. He didn't move back, leaving me little room to move by him. A blush rose to my cheeks and I began to think I didn't understand Jericho anymore than I did any other boy. Didn't he want nothing to do with me only a few days ago?

The ride to school with Avalon was quiet, we were both lost in our own thoughts and shared consciousness. Avalon was deeply worried about me, and his anxiety was rubbing off on my already frayed nerves. He pretty much wanted to keep me shut in the house, surrounded by armed guards and all sorts of magical protection charms.

Although I felt he was over-reacting, I realized along with him, that this attack was only the beginning. After last night, I believed Avalon would never leave my side again, but the thought 172/711

of putting him in danger made me sick to my stomach. My brother, my twin, half of the only family I had, the other half of the future of the Resistance.... I couldn't bare it if something happened to him.

Nothing is going to happen to me
. Avalon growled defiantly in my head. "Nothing's going to happen to you either," he finished out loud as he pulled into a parking space at school.

We left the car silently, both purposing in our hearts to make Avalon's statements come true. I would let nothing happen to my brother, of that much I could be sure. And I knew without a doubt that he would let nothing happen to me.

We walked into the English and Drama Building quickly. The November air was frigid and the icy rain from yesterday hadn't let up. I shook the sleet off of my shoulder, not bothering to use magic. Ever since the assassin's magic had become part of my own, I could not bring myself to use it. The energy was building up inside of me and 173/711

making me edgy and irritable, but still I refused to use what was not mine.

"Come here. I need to talk to you," Kiran walked past me, his harsh whisper beckoning me into the theater. At first I rebuffed his direct command, but when I glanced into his eyes, the concern was etched so deep that my heart instantly filled with longing.

I walked over to him and we entered the theater silently. Talbott was already inside the dark room and I would normally be irritated with this, except my own bodyguard in the form of Avalon had followed me as well. Talbott and Avalon stared each other down and despite my melancholy mood, I found their competition and anim-osity entertaining.

"Are you alright?" Kiran's whisper had softened and he pulled me into his arms. My body willingly molded into his strong embrace and I inhaled his scent. Kiran's closeness instantly calmed my frayed nerves, my head seemed clear-er and my muscles began to relax.

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The only difficulty in being wrapped in his arms was his frenetic and intrusive magic. Our magics were so used to finding each other, to mingling together, that Kiran's magic was desperately seeking mine. I refused to unleash my own; I refused to taint Kiran's magic with the evil and sinister electricity from last night's attacker.

"No," I mumbled truthfully and a lone tear fell slowly down my cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Love, I am so sorry," Kiran's voice cracked from emotion as if it were his fault and my shoulders felt the weight once again of the burden I carried.

"Will there be another one?" I asked, lifting my head off his chest and searching his turquoise eyes for truth.

"I don't know," I knew he was answering truthfully, but deep down I knew that there would be one. Voicing the question out loud gave me false hope, the true answer was already ringing loudly in my ears. "He wasn't sent by my father, he acted on his own accord," Kiran looked directly 175/711

into my eyes and I wanted to believe him. I knew he believed what he was saying, but I couldn't.

"You can't be serious," Avalon blurted out incredulously.

"Don't start," Talbott growled a warning.

"No. You don't start," Avalon replied menacingly. "How can you say that he acted on his own? He is one of Cartier's personal guard."

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