Scarred (the Spellbound Series Book 3) (2 page)

Even without opening my eyes, I can tell this is Krystal’s room from the first breath I take in her space. Hints of vanilla and cinnamon flood my nostrils as I walk to the center of the room. It’s sparse, apart from the lone picture of her and the man she was meant to marry twenty years ago, and the books lined up on a solid oak bookshelf. Krystal was my mentor, the woman who taught me how to use my powers. We spent so much time together, but there’s still so much about her that I don’t know. That I’ll never know. Where did she grow up? Who taught her everything she knew? Just how old
was
she, and how did she hide her age? I wish I’d had more time to find out.

I glance around the room at her few possessions, and my eyes fall upon a gray metal box left on her perfectly made bed. It seems out of place, and I know she wouldn’t leave it out without a good reason. A folded note lies next to the box on the bed, and I open that first, to find the sloping handwriting that I recognize immediately as Krystal’s:

Heather,

I’m assuming it’s you reading this note. I’m sorry for all the things I said when I saw you last. I know you; if there’s anyone left in this world that COULD be the hero you want to be, it’s you. You’re incredibly gifted, and I know you’ll go on to do great things, with or without me. Which is why, if I don’t make it back tonight, I’m leaving these to you. I know you’ll use them well.

See you on the other side,

Krystal

I put the note down before I can burst into tears, and peek into the metal box next to it. Inside, I find her prized weapons; a pair of scarlet pistols, paired with a black leather holster. I lift one to examine it better, the silver angel wings etched into the sides bringing a smile to my lips. It’s as if she knew they ought to be mine back when she made them. I close the box, and scoop it up into my arms, before whispering, “Thank you,” to the empty room. I take one last, long glance, before leaving, and silently closing the door behind me.

I have to steel myself for the next room I enter. I half expect it to be occupied; I can clearly imagine Nick lying on his bed, laughing and waiting for me to join him. But there’s no trace of my boyfriend left here, except for all his neatly placed possessions and the fading scent of caramel. An open book lies on his desk, a line drawn in pencil at the place where he left off. The sight almost brings a smile to my lips; it always irked me that he would do something so disrespectful to a book, but I loved his little quirks all the same.

Of all the people I failed to save, I grieve the most for him. I slump against the door frame, and let the tears flow as my thoughts race, one after another. I wish I had been faster. I wish I had been stronger. I wish I had thought to use my powers to save him sooner. I wish he were here. I wish, I wish, I wish, over and over, but nothing will ever come of it. He’s gone, and no matter how hard I wish, that will never change.

As I wipe my face clean of the fresh tears, I get the feeling that I’m no longer alone. I haven’t bothered cloaking my power so that I won’t be found by other spellcasters, but if anyone thinks they’re going to ambush me… they’re in for a rude awakening. I reach into the box Krystal left me, and my fingers close around the handle of a gun. I whirl around the moment I hear a footstep behind me, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. I point the gun at the intruder, and gasp in shock.

Standing right in front of me, looking every bit as confused as I am, is the very man I thought I’d never see again. Same wavy brown hair as always. Same soft brown eyes. Same Nick. My Nick.

2

The gun shakes along with the hand holding it as I keep it trained on Nick. My heart yearns to throw my arms around him and never let go, but my head is warning me not to let my guard down. There’s only a slim chance that this is the real Nick, and even if it
is
him, there’s no guarantee that he hasn’t come back damaged. “What are you?,” I ask through gritted teeth. “Because you’re sure as hell not my boyfriend. I watched him die.”

              “I never died,” Nick says carefully as he raises his hands over his head. “I was taken.”

              “And what, held captive for three days?”

              “Three days? I’ve been gone for maybe an hour.”

“Trust me, Nick. I would know how long it’s been.”

“Right… Could you put the gun down?”

              “No.” I take a step towards Nick, and he takes several steps back, until he’s pressed against the hallway wall. I don’t know what to make of him. He seems the same as always on the surface, and I can’t sense anything untoward about his aura. But it could easily be a trick. He could easily be a demon, or a shapeshifter, maybe even a hallucination brought on by stress. There’s no way to know for sure if what I’m seeing is real.

              For a split second, I consider shooting him, then dragging his unconscious body back to the hotel to test him further. But out of nowhere, Nick mutters, “February 25
th
.”

              “What?” I grip the gun tighter, and aim it at his forehead, just in case he tries anything while I’m distracted.

              “February 25
th
. Our first date. We got Thai food… well, you did. And then we walked along the FDR Drive. And that’s where we first kissed.”

              Part of me relaxes a little. I don’t remember going into detail about our first date with anyone but my best friends, Jenna and Rachel. So at the very least, this could be a monster with Nick’s memories. “Go on,” I order him. “You’ll need more than that to impress me.”

              “I spent five years as a vampire, until your angel blood cured me.”

              “Yeah, and?”

              “You drool in your sleep sometimes. You keep your ticket stub from every movie you’ve ever seen. You prefer to use forks because you worry about spoons cutting the corners of your mouth. You secretly wish you were cool enough to drink, but you get horrible stomach pains every time you try. And you’re currently pregnant with our child.”

              I close my eyes, and lower the gun a tiny bit. He doesn’t know. I try to keep the pain out of my voice as I tell him, “You were right, up until the end.”

              Nick’s eyes widen in shock, and he asks, “What happened? And for that matter, what the hell happened to this place?”

              “You really don’t know? You haven’t heard?”

              “I have no idea.”

              I sigh, and shove the gun back in its box. This Nick, whoever or whatever he is, doesn’t seem to be a threat. But I want to be incredibly sure that he’s the real deal. “I’ll explain. But first, grab some stuff from your room. And make sure you pack your suit.”

              “Why my suit?”

              “You’ll see.”

              It takes Nick a few minutes to pack his things, which he does silently. Once he’s done, I send his bags and the metal box containing Krystal’s guns back to my room at the hotel. I’d like to just go there myself, but there’s still one thing left for me to do before I leave New York City behind. I promised I’d meet my scavenging partner before heading back. “Come on,” I tell him. “We’re going for a walk.”

              After awkwardly squeezing my wings through the lobby doors, Nick and I are on the street, walking side by side. He seems to want to grab my hand, but knows me well enough to know that right now, I won’t let him. As we head downtown, I fill him in on everything that’s happened. The fight with Lily, the loss of our baby, Krystal’s death, the desolation of the city, how I earned my wings, everything. I’ve had to recount the story so many times now for the rest of the survivors that I expect not to feel the stab of guilt over my failure anymore. But it hits home like it always does, and my hands are balled into fists by the time I’m done talking.

              Nick remains expressionless throughout the whole retelling, but frowns once I’m done speaking. “I don’t understand,” he says. “Why did Lily let you live?”

              “Who knows,” I respond with a shrug. “All I know is that the next time I see her, she’ll wish she hadn’t.”

              Nick stops in his tracks, and I turn back to get a full view of his judgmental stare. “You’re not seriously going after her, are you?”

              “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

              “We’ve both seen what revenge can do to a person. It’s not the kind of path you want to be on…”

              I face forward, and continue walking. “We’re Nephilim. We’re
supposed
to fight, it’s
supposed
to be kill or be killed. And besides, millions of people are dead because I couldn’t kill her. Who knows how many more will die if I don’t?”

              “Heather…”

              “What about you? I watched you get dragged into Hell, I tried to save you. What happened there?”

              The roar of an engine nearby drowns out Nick’s voice as he goes to answer. He looks panicked for a moment, but I’m not worried at all. I smile a little to myself; I should have known she would pull something like this. A sleek black motorcycle rounds the corner before our eyes, being ridden by my friend Alyssa. She shakes out her dirty blonde hair as the motorcycle screeches to a stop. Apparently, she still isn’t very good at riding one, despite Lily giving her lessons while the two were still dating.

              “I thought we were supposed to meet up further ahead,” I shout over the rumbling engine.

              “I got bored,” Alyssa explains with a smile, “So I rescued Baby, and rode her around until I found… Nick? Is that you?” She removes her rectangular framed glasses, and wipes them clean on the bottom of her shirt before putting them back on. Understandably, she looks as if she’s seen a ghost.

              “Yep. I’m back,” Nick says with a shrug. “Miss me?”

              “Oddly enough, I did.” Alyssa and Nick exchange a look, and it strikes me as odd that they get along as well as they do. Until fairly recently, the two of them held a grudge against each other because they were both in love with me. But it seems like they’ve buried the hatchet somewhere along the way. I’m not complaining; I’d much rather my boyfriend and one of my best friends be civil towards each other than be hostile. I just never dared to hope that they would be anything
more
than civil.

              Alyssa switches off the motorcycle’s engine, and hops down from her seat. “Alright, so we came back for clothes and personal effects, but we found wings and the third side of a love triangle… all in all, not a bad haul.”

              “I guess not,” I reply. “It’s about time we headed back, though.”

              “Yeah. Everyone’s waiting for us.” Alyssa points a finger in Nick’s direction, and adds, “I’m sure everyone will be thrilled to know their favorite barista is back from the dead.”

***

              The second my feet touch the royal blue carpet of my room at the Esplanade, I tell Nick to get his suit on. I wasn’t supposed to take so long when I volunteered to collect the other survivors’ things. And if we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late. I shove Nick into the bathroom with his suit, and quickly change into a black dress that I’ve had saved for a special occasion. I was hoping it would be a happier one, but to be honest, I don’t see happier days coming my way any time soon.

              Nick comes out of the bathroom fully dressed as I struggle to pull up the back of my dress. Now that I have wings in the way, getting dressed is way more of a hassle. I wonder if I’m going to have to ruin every item of clothing I own in order to accommodate them. Nick offers to help, and I tense up as his fingers touch the skin between my shoulder blades. “What’s wrong?,” he asks as we struggle to get the fabric to cover my whole back.

              “Nothing’s wrong.”

              “Then why are you flinching when I touch you?”

              I groan, and alter the fabric to encircle my wings with a spell. I don’t feel entirely secure that my dress won’t slide right off, but it’ll have to do for now. “I’m flinching because I’m not sure if I can trust you yet,” I answer.

              Nick steps back, and leans against the dresser behind him. “Since when is trusting me an issue?”

              “I thought you were dead…” I fold my arms across my chest as memories of the past few days flicker to life in the back of my mind. “I grieved for you… I cried, which I try not to do. For a while, I wasn’t even sure if I could carry on without you. But suddenly you’re back, and after everything I’ve seen and done, you expect me to just accept that there are no strings attached?”

              Nick watches me with his wounded puppy eyes, and says, “There are no strings. I’m here. And I’m never leaving again.”

              “You can’t promise that. And apparently, I can’t promise I’ll be able to save you…”

              “Don’t get the wrong idea about me. I’m no damsel in distress.”

I allow myself a tiny grin; if this Nick remembers our first conversations, then maybe, just maybe, he’s the real deal.

              I’m considering warming up to Nick, but a knock at the door draws our attention. Nick and I are both immediately on alert; he follows closely as I approach the door, neither of us daring to even breathe. I reach to uncover the peephole and see who’s out there, when an unfamiliar voice inquires, “Heather Santos?,”

“Who’s asking?,” I demand of the man in the hallway.

The door unlocks with a sharp
click
, and I’m so surprised that I step back as it swings open. Our visitor appears to be just an average man in a crisp black suit who looks vaguely familiar. I’d assume he was just another mourner preparing for the service, if it weren’t for the sunglasses and the wire protruding from his ear. If he’s trying to look like something that doesn’t scream
secret agent
, this man is failing miserably.

              “Agent Rivera,” the man replies as he crosses the threshold into my room and closes the door. “You and I have a few things to discuss, Ms. Santos.”

              “Yeah? Well, unless you’re here to talk to me about the Avengers initiative, I’m not interested.”

              “I’m afraid not. This pertains to Ms. Andrea Collado’s affairs.”

              Agent Rivera now has my attention. Given the small group of living people who know Krystal’s original name, he must have something important to share.

              “Ms. Collado did some incredible work during her years working with the supernatural weapons development team,” he continues. “We kept an eye on her before and after she severed ties with them, and when she became the leader of the Caelestia clan a year ago, she and I worked together from a distance to ensure the safety of her clan, her jurisdiction, and all of the paperwork required to change the name and some of the regulations, among other things.”

              I can’t believe what I’m hearing. To clarify, I ask, “Are you telling me that spellcasters work with the government?”

              “To a certain extent. We know of your existence, but only assist in your proceedings when needed.”

              “I thought the VSA were the only ones you chose to work with.”

              “Vampires have their own division, and handle their own affairs, for the most part. Spellcasters are still human, and under our care.”

              “Alright… what do you want from me?”

              Agent Rivera hands me a file, and tells me, “Before she died, Krystal named you as her successor. There may not be much of your clan left, but those who remain now answer to you.”

              “What?” I rip open the file in my hands, and find, in much more technical terms, that what Agent Rivera told me was true. Krystal officially named me as the next leader of the Caelestia clan, roughly a month ago. “But… why?”

              “Evidently, she believed in your leadership skills.” I continue to scan the file, while Agent Rivera says, “We’ll be working closely in the future to go over your responsibilities, and talk about any changes you’d like to make as the new leader.”

              This is all so much to take in, that I don’t know what to say. I don’t
want
the position that’s being offered to me. As it stands, I don’t feel fit to lead anyone. I still have a lot of learning to do. And besides, I have a score to settle before I dedicate my life to taking charge of anyone else’s. I clear my throat, and ask, “Is that all?”

              “Actually, no. I’m going to have to ask you to lie low.”

              “What do you mean?”

              In response, Agent Rivera pulls a phone out of his pocket, and presses play on a video that’s already been loaded. It’s security footage of Times Square, the night that Lily and I fought on the streets where anyone could see. I watch as Lily waves her hand, and a silver car flies through the front window of an Olive Garden. I can almost feel the pain of what happens next ripping through my abdomen all over again.