Roar (Witches & Warlocks Book 3) (16 page)

There’s only one way I can see to get around all that right now and it’s a little more extreme than I’d like. OK, a lot more extreme. Like, I’m gonna end up dead extreme. But as blood drips from my nose and gathers on the floor, I’m running out of time to think of something that won’t cost me my life. With a sigh, I step between my mother and the ball of Luke’s magic. Without giving myself time to think, I release my time stop spell.

There’s the bang, like yet another gunshot as air collapses into the spot I used to occupy, and someone screams but that doesn’t matter because I take the full force of Luke’s magic in the chest.

Chapter Nineteen

It’s like inhaling a huge cloud of pepper and poisonous spiders. My throat constricts and I want to cough, but I can’t. There’s a flurry of movement as I drop to the floor, choking, eyes bulging, hands on my throat. Someone knocks the gun out of my mom’s hands. I try to tell them that’s my mom, try to tell them not to kill her, that my dad’s in the other room and Barnabe’s downstairs and Becca’s a vampire and we’ve got it all wrong. But I can’t. I’m choking. I’m dying.

And then, there are hands on my face. Someone kneeling beside me, calling my name. Brushing my hair out of my eyes. I look up, hoping to see Noah, needing to look him in the eyes one last time and hope he sees how much I love him before I die.

Except it’s not Noah.

It’s Luke.

And he’s crying and apologizing and trying to cradle me to his chest but my body’s gone oddly stiff and he can’t get a good grip on me.

“I’m sorry.” He keeps saying it over and over and this is going to be the last thing I see before I die. This beast of a man, crying and apologizing. And then, he stops. And the world goes black. I want to say goodbye but I’ve missed my chance. There’s a murmur of words, Luke’s voice, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

There’s a rush. Like wind pulling out of my body. And a roaring in my ears. And I can see again. And breathe.

I take a ragged breath. And another. Sucking in air, almost dizzy with it. And then I see Luke, choking, eyes wide. What the hell? He collapses as I sit up.

“What’s happening?” I ask in between coughs.

Daya’s face goes slack. “He stole your death.”

And then I’m on my hands and knees, leaning over him, brushing his cheek with my finger tips and watching the life fade from his eyes. And as the light fades from him, as that spark that means he’s in there disappears, the room seems to darken as well. I don’t know how to process this. Luke dying for me. I scream at Daya to save him, but she’s dealing with my mother and when I look back down, he’s already gone.

Luke is dead.

And the darkening room? That’s not my imagination. It’s truly growing darker by the minute. I stand. Look around. The bright afternoon light that’d been filtering through the windows is gone, replaced by shadow and darkness. The sun itself covered by some kind of false night.

“Oh, Zoe?” The voice comes from the other room, calling out for me, teasing and taunting.

Daya’s brows draw together. “That’s Barnabe.”

“Get my parents out of here. Send them somewhere. Anywhere!” I want to explain what I found, but there’s just not time. Daya still looks confused. “Please, Daya! Just send them far away!”

Thankfully, she listens. My parents disappear to who knows where just as Milo comes around the corner, moving more swiftly than I ever could have expected. I reach for my magic, call on the tiger, and there’s another wrenching in my head. Something terrible is happening to me. He lunges toward me just as one of Daya’s fireballs hits him in the chest. Igniting him like dried out leaves.

The rest happens so fast, so many things happening at the same time, I can’t begin to explain it. Becca and Lucy rush into the room, followed by Barnabe and thankfully, Daya and Noah recognize them as enemies. Thankfully they don’t pause to ask questions or consider.

There’s roaring and screaming and blood. Magic flinging and power swirling. I’m dodging and leaping and have the strange thought that I’m thankful I’ve been going to the gym.

I’ve seen so many life and death battles on TV, but the reality is nothing like that at all. It’s just all of us, crammed into this little room, the foyer of a mansion, grunting and swearing and trying not to trip over Luke’s dead body. There’s nothing awe-inspiring in our battle for survival.

It occurs to me that the only reason the vampires are awake is because Barnabe must have cast a spell that brought us into an early night. Therefore, if I destroy Barnabe, I win the game. His spell will come to an end and the vampires will either burn up in the sun or fall asleep in the shadows and we can figure out what to do with them once they’re no longer a threat.

But how? How do I kill Barnabe Withers? The most powerful warlock of our time? That’s a hard enough job without my magic faltering inside me. But now? With every spell I cast twisting a knife into my head?

And then, I see my opportunity. Barnabe lunges toward Daya just as Noah hits him with a blast of golden magic. Barnabe falls, crying out as his foot gets caught in Luke’s legs, twisting his knee out of place as he goes down. I gather all my remaining power, reach out to Daya and Noah, and even Barnabe himself, channel their magic into mine. There’s a rush and a roar and pop and a wrench and my hair is lifted from my shoulders and whips around my face, sticking to the blood running from my nose.

“Morietur veneficus!” I scream the incantation —death to the warlock — and channel all my magic at Barnabe. My tiger leaps on him, teeth tearing into flesh. I can literally see the magic pouring from Daya, Noah, and Barnabe, and rushing through me. It spins up all tight and slams into him, skitters across his body like electricity over metal, like water over rocks, like ants over carrion.

He shrieks.

He chokes.

And he dies.

I stagger until I’m leaning hard against the window. Watch as light gathers outside, reach with a trembling hand to open the curtain and let the sun into the room. Lucy goes up like dry grass, no time to make a sound and Becca falls still. Reaches her hand into the light and shudders as it falls across her alabaster skin.

My legs give out and I slide down the wall. End up sitting with my knees tucked to my chest. Put my head on my knees and focus on breathing. I’m aware of Daya chanting, working on a spell. A few bits of murmured conversation. And then, just as I give up on consciousness, there’s the wrenching sensation that means I’m going to wake up somewhere else.

That is, if I wake up at all.

********

I do wake up. In an actual hospital bed with wires and IVs trailing from my body to machines beeping away beside me. My mom and my dad are dozing in chairs that don’t look the least bit comfortable. Noah’s got a chair tucked up beside the bed, holding my hand, also asleep. I shift, just ever so slightly, trying to see if I could get a sense as to what’s wrong with me and he wakes. Blinks slowly as he looks at me, smiles as he registers that I’m conscious.

“A hospital, huh?” My throat hurts and I cough a little.

“You lost a lot of blood.”

“Why not a healing spell?”

Noah looks to my parents and puts his finger to my lips. “You’ve been in quite a nasty accident,” he says, making a strange face that I don’t understand.

“An accident?” Now I’m trying to sit up. What’s he talking about? An accident? You mean where I killed Barnabe and Lucy died and Becca’s a vampire and Luke … oh God. Luke. The little machine beside me starts beeping erratically. What is that? My heart beat?

Noah’s shushing me and putting his hands on me. Leaning in close so he can whisper in my ear. “Quiet, you’ll wake them. This is a cover story. For them. We didn’t want to mess with their heads any more than Lucy and Barnabe already did.”

I stop fighting and let that sink in. A cover story. They’re building a cover story.

“What happened?” I ask, just in case Mom or Dad can hear. Give Noah the chance to explain.

“You were walking home from work with Becca, remember?” He pauses and I nod. Mom shifts in her chair. “A car jumped the curb…”

“Zoe?” Mom’s awake now, eyes open, bloodshot. She pulls herself out of the chair and grabs my other hand. “Oh thank God.” Tears pour down her cheeks. “I thought we’d lost you.”

And now Dad’s awake and he’s at my side and Noah stands up, gives them space. I’m still so confused and am actually quite tired. They hug me and they love me and I let them, just as happy that they’re safe as they are to find me awake.

They ask me how I’m feeling, if I’m hungry, where I hurt. All manner of things before they rush out to go find a doctor. Then there’s doctors and questions and lights in my eyes and tests on my mobility and memory.

“What do you remember?” the doctor asks.

“Not much,” I say and don’t have to try too hard to be convincing. “I was walking home from work with Becca …” And seriously, that’s all I know. I’m busy trying to figure out how a cover story with Becca in it works at all, considering she’s been dead for a while now. Or at least I thought she was dead for a while now. Although technically, I guess she still is dead. Or was. I’m not sure as to her current status.

“A car jumped the curb,” says the doctor, Dr. Linda Francis according to the badge on her chest. “Your friend took the brunt of it, but it appears you were flung away. Hit your head pretty good. Bled a lot.” Mom and Dad exchange looks and there are tears standing in Mom’s eyes again.

“What?” I ask them. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Mom looks to Dr. Francis, who nods her head. Mom tries to speak, but tears eat her words. Dad puts a hand on her thigh and then stands up. Walks to the bed. Touches my arm.

“Zoe, sweetheart. Becca didn’t make it.”

I do my best to appear stunned. Which I that’s going to be out of my repertoire today. I settle for a blank look, the best I can manage, and hope that they believe I’m numb from grief. I feign exhaustion and the room clears, everyone telling me they should give me space and that they’ll be right here if they need me.

I hear my mom break down, sobbing in the hallway and I wait for her grief to echo inside me, to call on my own tears. There’s nothing. Maybe I’ve finally crossed the line into hardened badass after all.

Chapter Twenty

I manage to bumble my way through my hospital stay and, with just a little magical help from my friends, manage to get all the way to checkout time without anyone suspecting I was never in a car accident. Mom and Dad offer to stay in town, but when I tell them I’ve got Noah, they smile in earnest.

“He never left your side, the whole time you were unconscious,” Mom says. Her sweet face is exactly the way it should be, the way it’s always been. Made beautiful by love and pride, not twisted by hate and anger.

“We’ll be back for Becca’s funeral,” Dad says and pulls me in for a hug. I swallow and nod and hope that he reads that as grief. I’m still not sure how they’re gonna pull of the whole funeral thing, but I’ve got a meeting with Daya later this afternoon. I guess I’ll find out then. And I’m really not sure how I’m going to pull of the whole grieving best friend, considering everything that’s happened, but I’ll figure something out, I’m sure.

I promise to call frequently, way more frequently than I had been, and there are real tears in my eyes as they pull away, waving and honking. As soon as they’re out of sight, Noah pulls me in close and wraps me up in his arms.

He doesn’t say a word. But, his feelings are there, easy for me to understand. It’s in the way his hand strokes my back. In the way he smells my hair. In the way he holds me close for so long. The way I melt into him and he melts into me.

We’re still standing like that when a car pulls up, all black and shiny and expensive as all hell. The driver gets out, opens the back door, and gestures for us to climb in. I hesitate, not sure who would send a car or where the car would be taking us and I’m really not feeling like trusting people just for the sake of trusting them anymore.

“It’s OK,” Noah says, sensing my reluctance. “Daya sent the car. No magic for you until we’re sure you’re alright.”

The car ride passes in comfortable silence. Me, tucked against Noah, wondering what it might mean if my magic is actually broken. If somehow, I’m not able to be a witch anymore. Would that make me happy? Or would I grieve the loss? What does it say that I even have to ask those questions?

Despite the blowing snow and bitter cold, there’s a crowd gathered on the steps of Windsor Manor when we pull up. This is more than just students as there’s never more than a handful here at any given time. They start clapping and cheering when we step out of the car and I don’t know why. The driver leads us up the steps, people reaching out to touch us, making our progress difficult.

“Give them room,” admonishes the driver. “Give them room.” The crowd follows us inside but is diverted into one of the large ballrooms as we’re escorted back towards Daya’s office. She’s sitting behind her desk, the same as always. Swathed in a flamboyant dress that makes her look as wide as she is tall. The instant she sees us, she stands and crosses the distance between us, wraps me into a tight hug that feels hella awkward because for one, I don’t think I’ve ever touched Daya before. And for two, I’m way taller than her, so the whole grandmotherly love thing just isn’t working. Instead of guiding us to the chairs at her desk, Daya offers us a seat on the couch. Offers drinks. Sits beside us.

“How are you feeling?” she asks me, looking like she genuinely cares about the answer.

For the first time since I woke up, I give the real answer. “I feel … normal. And not in a good way. I’m not sure what’s happened to my magic.”

Daya smiles and all the grandmotherly love she was going for in the hug is wrapped up in her face. “Don’t worry about that for now. We’ll come back to that. What about everything else?”