Page 17 of Spellcaster (Weatherstone College #1)

My attacker was an air elemental, using their energy to lift us both, and send us hurtling across the campus. The throbbing

in my head worsened with each breath of air I tried to suck through the burlap bag. It stuck to my sweaty face, and I fought

not to pass out again through sheer panic.

My attacker was bigger and stronger, and their hold was tight until they stopped suddenly and released me to slam against

a hard surface. Winded, my lungs ached along with my head as I gasped for breath, but that didn’t stop me from rolling to

the side and clawing at the ties at my throat.

The psycho warlock laughed, a deep chilling sound, as he wrapped his hands around my throat. Blindly swinging my arms, I tried

to claw him, but he wasn’t strangling as I’d expected. He released the ties on the bag. When he yanked it off, my head slammed

back with a crack against whatever I rested on, and I turned to find it was a headstone.

My attacker had brought us to the Weatherstone graveyard.

Tingles raced along my spine stronger than I’d ever felt—this warning system I’d developed the moment I stepped onto these

college grounds. Little too late this time. Scrambling to my feet, the back of my head felt warm, and I had a suspicion I was bleeding.

Which wasn’t the worst of my worries as the full moon crested to the peak, washing its calming energy over the graves and illuminating my attacker:

Weasel.

Tilting his head to the side, he shot me a smile any serial killer would be proud of. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he said conversationally,

sounding less deranged than he looked. “A distraction. An annoyance. And I’m sick of seeing your fucking face. Kingston will

thank me for this.”

He twisted his right hand, and the air I’d been quite happily breathing was restricted in my lungs and throat. Choking, I

clawed at my neck, as flashbacks of drowning in the lake hit me hard and fast. Only this time, there was definitely a monster

attacking me, and since he was of the warlock variety, I could fight back.

Dropping to my knees, I fought through my panic, desperately searching for a weapon. My palm hit a rock, half-buried in the

dirt, and I clawed it loose, pitching it as hard and fast as I could. I’d spent two summers playing baseball with the kids

on my street, and I had a mean fastball when I wanted.

Weasel dodged it, but not the second one I shot at him just as fast. The tennis ball–sized stone slammed into his gut, and

when he doubled over the elemental hold on my body ceased. Leaping to my feet, I didn’t stop or think, sprinting in the direction

I hoped the gate was. I couldn’t see it from this angle.

Of course, a witch with no active magic against an asshole with control over the elements meant I was far outmatched. Air

wrapped around my body, holding me in place, before he lifted me a few feet off the ground, and slammed me down face-first

onto the hard, rock-filled grass. Compacted dirt bit into my skin, scraping where my clothes didn’t protect. Weasel repeated

this movement over and over, until I could taste blood, and my head was spinning and screaming at me.

When he stopped, he left me sprawled on the ground in a broken heap. “Are you planning on killing me?” I choked out, wiping blood from my lips. Little beams of light shone in my hands, but it was so far from an active power I might as well have been holding a firefly. “They’ll execute you.”

“Not if they can’t find your body,” he snarled as he slammed his foot on my back, pushing me until I tasted grass and more

blood. “You’re just an annoyance and a distraction, and I think the plan is much better this way.”

A strangled scream escaped me as I tried to push up against him, but I was hurt too badly to have any fight left. As it was,

I could barely whimper.

“I’m going to enj—”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Another whimper escaped me, as shouts rang out. Students had left the party, and judging by the chill of their energy, some

necromancers had decided to visit the graveyard on their way back to the dorms.

My face was pressed into the ground, so I couldn’t see who had arrived, and even when the weight of Weasel’s foot disappeared,

I didn’t move. Didn’t or couldn’t, it was hard to tell through the blaring pain. Gentle hands touched me a few seconds later,

and I flinched.

“It’s okay,” a witch said carefully, her voice pitched low and soothing. “We’re here to help you.”

I was lifted, and I couldn’t help my cries as the pain intensified. Tears burned my eyes, and I squeezed them shut and prayed

to the goddess for a little relief.

“You need to hurry,” the witch said to whoever carried me. “She doesn’t look good.”

Excellent. At least I looked how I felt.

The warlock who held me—I could feel his hard chest—moved faster, jolting my broken body. I gritted my teeth and tried to be thankful I was alive. Feeling no pain would have meant I was dead, and once again the reaper had kept its claws out of me.

Not that I knew why I was being hunted by that scythey bastard, but it wasn’t my time yet apparently.

Why did Weasel attack me? Was it on Logan’s orders? He’d said Kingston would thank him, and yet it hadn’t sounded like he

had been directed to attack.

It made even less sense for Logan to save me at the lake, ignore me for weeks, and then let his asshole friend beat me to

death. There’d been no new torture in that period of time. Nothing that would justify saving my life at the lake for a great

plan.

The light grew brighter behind my tightly closed eyelids, and I soon smelled antiseptic, lavender, peppermint, and other herbs.

Healing witches and warlocks were almost always nature sprites, using what nature provided, along with spells and their internal

energy, to accelerate our bodies’ healing.

It was quiet at first, until a witch let out a loud gasp. “Oh my goddess.” Her voice was low and sweet. “What happened here?”

“She was attacked in the graveyard,” the warlock holding me said. “We didn’t see her attacker clearly, but it was another

warlock.”

“Quickly, get her on the bed, and then can one of you fetch the headmaster for me?”

I was placed against a soft surface, but I was in too much pain for anything to feel comfortable. “It’s okay, dear,” the witch

told me in gentle tones. I attempted to open my eyes, but every time I tried the pain grew worse.

The warmth of her energy surrounded me as she started to chant a healing spell, and for a second it hurt worse than ever as I fought back a scream.

“You’re doing amazing,” she whispered. “Your injuries aren’t the worst we’ve seen, but you do have internal bleeding and a few fractured ribs.

Don’t worry. I’ll have you as good as new in no time. ”

She chanted again, and I did nothing except attempt to hold on to my sanity, until eventually, there was some blessed relief

from the agony. When her hands lifted, and the heat faded, she rubbed cool, lavender-scented paste across my arms and side,

leaving me sore but not dying any longer. I slumped into the bed, exhausted and emotional, wondering what I was going to tell

my dad when he came raging into this room.

“Rest, sweetie,” the healer said. “I’ll check on you soon.”

The need to sleep was a normal part of the healing process, and I let myself drift off, hoping that by the time I woke up

the rest of the pain would be gone. My theory almost worked, until I heard a frantic “Little Gem” beside my bed, and I opened

my eyes to find Dad and all of my siblings standing pale faced around me.

“Almost missed the family reunion,” I joked, voice raspy against my dry throat.

Dad took my hand and squeezed it gently. “Sweetheart, why do I keep finding you in these situations?”

“Magnet for trouble?”

Dad’s frown deepened, even as the fire in his eyes eased. “Maddy, the healer who first attended you, said you had severe bruises,

some internal bleeding, and broken ribs. She’s got most of the healing under way, and you should feel much better in a few

hours. How’s your pain?”

I took a second to assess my injuries, shifting on the bed, relieved when it was all down to a dull ache. “Honestly, not too

bad. A few bruises and aches still, and I could really use a glass of water, but other than that I’m going to be fine.”

“Who did this?” Trevor growled, hands gripping the metal railing beside me. Unlike Dad, the flames in his eyes roared.

“I don’t know his name,” I told them the truth. “But I’m going to find out, and I’ll report it to the headmaster.”

Dad looked over his shoulder, before coming back to my gaze. “Victor was just here, but he must have stepped out again. You

will absolutely be reporting this warlock, and we will make sure he’s charged to the full extent of the law.” I had no issue

with that, but I did have an issue with Dad’s next words. “And if we don’t find him soon, I’m taking you home, sweetheart.

No negotiations.”

“We’ll find him,” I promised darkly, deciding I’d search the entire fucking school daily until I found Logan and demanded

a name. “I know his face. I just need the name.”

My sisters pressed in for hugs, and I wasn’t surprised when Alice cried into my side. “I’m so sorry this happened. We should

have been at the party.”

“I shouldn’t have left her at the party,” Trevor rumbled, and the heat in the room shot right up, giving us all a free sauna

along with healing.

“It’s okay,” I told them all. “I’m a grown witch, and I should be able to take care of myself. This is not on any of you,

it’s on that asshole who jumped me. And he will be dealt with.”

“I want his name,” Jensen said, wrapping his huge hand around mine, and holding tightly. “I want his name, and five minutes

with him in the lake.”

It wasn’t like my brother to be so bloodthirsty—not that brother anyway. The difference between water and fire was apparent

in their personalities, but tonight they were both infernos.

“I want his name too,” I assured Jensen, noting how his jaw was clenched.

“Make sure you tell me first,” he bit out, squeezing my hand.

“I love you guys,” I whispered, jumping when Jenna pressed a cool glass of water in my hand. The first sip tasted like nectar, and I finished the entire glass in seconds.

“We love you too, little sister,” Trevor said, brushing his hand gently over my head. “We’ll kill this bastard, don’t you

worry.”

It was hard to tell if he meant that literally or not. When the fire took him over, darkness clouded his gaze, and for once

Dad didn’t reprimand him about it.

My family stayed until the healers kicked them out so I could get some rest. “She’ll be released in the morning. Come back

at 8:00 a.m.,” Maddy told them. With reluctance and final hugs, they left the room, and the cool, dark silence surrounded

me.

“Okay, one more round of healing before you sleep,” Maddy said as she added more energy and tinctures to my body, before leaving

me to rest.

In my drowsy state, I was almost asleep when I felt a power brush across my skin. It wasn’t the power of the healers; it was

much stronger than anything I’d felt tonight, forcing my blurry eyes open, I searched for the source, and found a hulking

shadow to the side of my bed.

I thought I caught a glimpse of green eyes, but when I focused again, the room was empty of shadows and scary spellcasters.

Exhaustion dragged me under as I succumbed to the sleep my body required to heal.