The Witch Collector Part II (12 page)

I was a country girl. I’d climbed more trees than a monkey. I could do this. On tiptoe, I managed to grab the balcony above and curl my leg over the side, using momentum to flip myself onto the ledge. I grabbed the lattice beams but made the mistake of glancing down. Three floors up, the drop to the backyard was easily thirty feet, and my legs still felt heavy from using magic earlier. The grass below was difficult to see in the diffused light; the yard resembled an open grave.

Focus.
A drop of sweat rolled down my back, bringing me into the moment.

Slowly, so slowly, I pulled myself onto the balcony, landing hands first. I took a moment to breathe, when Evie’s security light blasted me in the eyes.

“Be careful, Breeda.”

I blinked, trying to bring the shadowy figure into view.

Not that it was necessary. I knew that voice anywhere.

Chapter 16

“B
randon?” I pulled myself up to face him.

He glanced over at me, but his attention was focused on the demon standing in the corner of the balcony. It snarled and hissed, but its limbs were immobilized, wrapped tightly in a live electrical wire, which spat sparks into the air. One side of the demon’s body had burned. Weeping blisters covered the skin showing through the tattered remains of a policeman’s uniform.

Brandon clutched his talisman. “I need help,” he said. “This magic is weak and I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Demon,” I said, “it’s me, Breeda.” It didn’t turn at the sound of my voice. Instead, the demon writhed, pushing hard at the loosening wires. Its black eyes never left Brandon.

Evie said the bewitching would wear off. “You sent him,” I said, my heart heavy in my chest. “It was you.”

“Help me,” Brandon pleaded, desperate as the demon’s leg broke through the wire. “He’ll destroy me.”

My magic stirred, but something in Brandon’s expression stopped me before I touched my talisman.

“Do you have your magic?” Brandon shouted. “Use it! Now!”

The demon tossed the wire to the floor. It moved swiftly, but Brandon was quicker, grabbing at his talisman with a ferocious determination. The wire snaked around the demon’s ankle and pulled tight, sending the demon crashing onto the wooden floor. Then the wire whipped upward and the demon flipped into the air. Instinctively, I crouched down as the creature careened over my crouching body and tumbled over the side of the balcony. I heard a sickening crunch as its body hit the ground, but I hid my revulsion, focusing instead on Brandon. His talisman, which had once been a brilliant amethyst, was cobbled with thick, black lines.

“Tell me where they are,” I demanded.

“Who?” Brandon looked confused. He peered over the side of the balcony at the demon’s body. “I think it’s dead.”

“My parents,” I said. The words stuck like sand in my throat. “For the love of Isis, where are they?”

“I don’t know,” he said dully.

“You don’t know! You expect me to believe that?” I knew I should try to hide my anger, but I couldn’t. “And your father? Where is Gavin?”

Brandon studied me. His features had become hardened, not like Evie’s, but as if they hadn’t held any true emotion in a long time. “My father’s dead. He died back in Portland.”

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to.” Brandon paced the balcony. “You
knew
me. You
know
who I am. I wouldn’t do it on purpose.”

I felt sick. “What happened?”

“My father toyed with Black Magic so much he destroyed his natural gift. He thought Greta might help him. She was unmarked, like us,” he explained coldly. “But a transitioning unmarked has powers even my father couldn’t comprehend.”

My eyes filled and tears spilled over my cheeks. I didn’t bother to brush them away, and Brandon didn’t seem to notice. “I know she died,” I said. “But how?”

“Gavin was weak, and he worried my transition might destroy him. He’d figured out a way to siphon part of a transitioning witch’s power—so he practiced on Greta.”

“And it killed her?”

Brandon’s eyes took on a desperate quality, and I almost sighed with relief that he could still feel something. “I walked in the room as he was taking her gift,” he said, his voice rising in pitch, growing hysterical. “Her body twisted with pain. I couldn’t stand watching it. So I
reacted
, Breeda. Our instincts are so strong, aren’t they? I touched my talisman without thinking and I took it in. It covered my body. It invaded every part of me. Every cell.”

“The magic?”

“The
Black
Magic. Greta was killed instantly; my father, with so little magic left in him, took longer. After Greta’s funeral he came back to Seaside to get me. He was going to use me to convince you to come back to Oregon. But he was weak and collapsed before we left. When he died, I took all of his darkness.”

“But he was seen! Right here in Chicago.”

“
I
was seen,” Brandon said. “The people here haven’t seen my dad in years. I look enough like him from far away.”

My mind resisted the idea. It couldn’t be Brandon. He loved me. He loved Sonya, our friend. The one who could find me anywhere. “You stole Sonya’s gift, didn’t you? She was a tracker. That’s how you found me.”
And you killed her,
I thought, fighting the hysteria taking hold within me.
Just like Sandy
.

The connection was horrible, but it was there. “So now, when you collect someone’s gift, you kill them.” A chill crawled up my spine. Had he done the same to my parents?

Brandon stepped to the edge of the balcony. “I can’t live like this. It’s destroying me bit by bit, every time. Do you see this?” He grasped the cord holding his talisman, shoving the stone in my direction. I winced, fearful of what he could do with it.

“I black out now. I miss hours of my life, and the only reason I don’t mind is because being conscious after is worse than being dead. The Black Magic is eating away at my brain, my memories.” He leaned toward me, and in the smooth lines of his face I saw the Brandon I did know, the first boy to hold my heart. Was he completely gone? “Please,” he begged. “I need your help. Will you do it? You’re the only one who can.”

My mind reeled. “Do what?”

He tilted his head, and his face shifted, suddenly gaunt, his features falling into shadow. “Please say you will,” he whispered. “Please.”

I gasped, understanding what he was really saying. “You’re dying. . . .”

“Yes. Unless you help me I will die.”

I stared at him. “You want to take my gifts.”

He shook his head violently. “I want to take
one
gift. You’ve had a chance to acquire more than one, haven’t you? My brother told me you’d transitioned.”

“Of course. It was you who spoke with Ion. You told him to meet you here.”

“He hasn’t transitioned yet,” Brandon said derisively. “I’m not even sure if he’s unmarked anyway.”

“He isn’t,” I said quickly. “He can’t help you.”

“But you can. It will work, Breeda. You’re very strong. My father always said he thought you were the strongest of us all. He ended up being so weak. Everyone at Seaside was a disappointment.”

“But not Sonya,” I said, a cold fury taking hold. “Sonya was never weak.”

“No,” he said. “She wasn’t. But she also wasn’t unmarked. You’re different.”

I needed to get through to him, so I tried another tactic. “Don’t you understand? If you take my magic, it could kill me.” I reached out, touching his forearm. I wanted him to feel me, to remember.

Brandon leaned in, warming to my touch. Hope flared within me. I smiled at him. Maybe he wasn’t completely lost.

A sliver of light broke through the darkness in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around my shaking body, pressed his cheek against mine. I stifled a shudder.

“It’s you,” I murmured. “See? Still you.”

He buried his face in my hair, taking in my scent. “You do have your gifts. I can feel it. Let me try this, Bree. Please. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I froze.

He felt it and took a step back. “Does it matter to you if I die?”

“How could you ask that?”

His mouth pressed into a thin, cold line. “That’s not an answer. Let me ask a different question—do you want to see your parents again?”

I couldn’t mask my disgust any further. I glared at him. “Let them go. They’ve done nothing to you.”

“After,” he said. “Now I need an answer. Will you help me?”

I wanted to scream. If it would bring them back to me, then yes, I’d do it; I’d try anything. But was he telling the truth? “I want to see them.”

“We don’t have enough time,” he snapped, touching the stone around his neck. I heard a sharp crack, and another electrical wire whipped against the balcony, missing me by inches. He was trying to get me to use my magic.

It was working. My nerves hummed with it. “Stop!” I shouted. “Please, Brandon!”

“You must be wearing your talisman. Is that it, on your wrist?” he asked, his voice smooth as butter. “How does it feel?”

Magic rippled through me with a force I could barely contain.

Another live wire snapped at my feet. I struggled with the powerful force rolling through my veins—every cell in my body wanted to fight back, yearned for it. My hand automatically went to my talisman, hovering just above the star sapphire.

“Go ahead,” he demanded. “Show me what you’ve collected.”

I searched his eyes for a glimmer of the light I’d seen before, for a fragment of the person I once knew. “If you take my magic,” I said, steadying my voice, “I’ll die. It’s not going to work. I’m sure we can find another way.”

His eyes held nothing but darkness. “I have to try. Why is that so difficult to understand?” He grasped his talisman again and the sparking electrical wires moved toward me with the slow, murderous intent of snakes marking their prey. They buzzed and popped, the electricity surging.

I looked at him, at this boy I once loved—this boy who once loved
me
—took a deep, cleansing breath, and reached for my talisman.

Chapter 17

“B
reeda!” Miro yelled.

Horrified, I watched Miro, Shelley, and Vadim run into the backyard below, hands at their talismans. Ion stumbled after them, falling onto the cement patio at the demon’s body. He crawled backward, screaming for someone to use magic.

“Don’t!” I shouted.

“Let her go!” Shelley called to Brandon. “You still have to get through us.”

Brandon ignored her, his hand returning to his blackened amethyst. The electrical wires rose up, cobras ready to strike.

Shelley grasped her talisman, a ball of fire appearing.

I dove for the railing. “No!” I screamed. “No magic. He’ll kill you!”

Brandon’s attention jolted toward Shelley. They locked eyes and the ball of fire immediately dispersed, tendrils of black smoke rising through the air. For one long second I stopped breathing, but Shelley just blinked up at us, wincing at the bright security light, apparently unharmed.

Shocked, Brandon stared at the black burn marks on his fingers. “She didn’t die,” he said, elation masking his pain. “She didn’t die!”

I heard a crack: the sound of wood splitting. Under Brandon’s feet, the balcony began to shake. A support beam broke away from the wall, sending the balcony floor tipping to the side. The electrical wires dropped and slid to the ground below, fizzing and snapping.

Brandon found his footing, grabbing the railing of the balcony with one hand and his talisman with the other. I lunged for him, but it was too late. His eyes never moved from where my friends stood in the backyard.

With a cry Vadim fell to the ground. Shelley threw herself on top of his body, the heart-wrenching sound of grief filling the air. I turned to Brandon, a murderous magic heating my blood. I grabbed for his hand, but he dodged me. I swung at him, my fist grazing the bottom of his talisman. It flashed once, and then the black lines thickened, overtaking the purple stone.

“It’s killing you,” I screamed. “Take it off!”

He shoved me away, and with a groan the balcony shifted, the remaining support beams straining to hold our weight. Inch by inch it peeled from the wall.

“Breeda, grab something!” Miro shouted.

I backed up to Evie’s screen door and curled my hand around the handle, my other hand suspended over my wrist. I secured my feet on the single intact beam.

The balcony gave way, pieces tumbling to the ground in an avalanche of wood. Brandon clawed at the railing still bolted to the side of the building, finding his grip only seconds before falling to the ground. I clutched the door handle as best I could, anticipating the worst. Unable to hold his weight any longer, the railing tore from its post, sending Brandon tumbling.

I closed my eyes, but didn’t hear a crash. When I opened them, Brandon hung in the air like a puppet.

Miro kept him aloft, a look of total concentration etched on his face. In the harsh glow of the security light, his skin had no color, but his eyes shone with the agony of an impossible choice. My heart clenched in my chest.
Piotr. He’s thinking of Piotr.

“Let him drop,” Shelley said, her voice empty of all emotion. “Let him die.”

Miro clutched at his talisman. “I can’t do it.”

“You can,” she pleaded. “Why should he live?”

Brandon reached for his talisman. I panicked, but his neck was empty. The stone hung from a piece of the destroyed balcony between us, just outside his grasp, and mine.

Miro scrunched his eyes shut, straining at the effort of keeping Brandon from falling. I felt useless—but then I realized I could help. I leaned my whole body forward, away from the building, trying to snag Brandon’s talisman with my outstretched fingers. Brandon glanced at me, a cruel smile playing at his lips, and stretched one long arm toward the dangling beam. With one quick burst of energy, he hooked the corded necklace.

I swung my free hand up, prepared to use my talisman. He wasn’t going to take Miro. If anything, he would take me instead.

Brandon and I shared a look as we both released our magic. The live wires rose from the ground. Miro shouted my name, but the loud electrical hum drowned out his voice.