Page 11

11

CALLIE

Paul’s lips tip up into a smile that creeps me the hell out. "I might like violence and death, but he’s the one that killed a kid."

I look at Will, shocked. He's a lot of things, but I wouldn't peg murderer on him. Besides, my cat likes him, and she hates bad guys. She can smell them a mile away. It kept me safe many times over the years, which makes it even more stupid that I’m in this situation. These guys reek.

Will closes his eyes, and his head flops back, but he doesn't deny the accusation.

The goon beside him whispers something in his ear, and his eyes fly open, hard and furious. Smoke rises from his hands, but then he cuts his eyes at me and sucks in a deep breath.

He doesn't know I've already seen him flame up.

Damn it. I was so focused on not letting these assholes take Will that I didn’t think about how coming with him could make things worse. Not only is he worried about using his magic in front of me, but they’re using me to keep him in line.

I think I screwed up.

My body shakes as I try to fight the tears and hysteria. If I get too upset, I'll shift. It's happened before. Usually, the cat just takes over whenever she wants to, but I've shifted before in high-stress situations.

Now isn't the time. Take deep breaths. Be calm and try to make this situation better. My inner scolding calms me, but only slightly. I insisted on coming with Will, so I sure as hell refuse to be a burden to him. Hell or high water, I’m going to get us out of this.

And I can’t do that if I don’t know exactly what’s going on.

"Where are you taking us?" I demand, trying to sound confident and not at all scared.

"It's your lucky day, little girl," the driver says. "You're going to meet the king."

King? What the hell does that mean?

I look at Will, hoping for some kind of answer or look of recognition, but the fight’s gone from his eyes. Slowly, he slumps over in my lap, and I stroke his dark hair. The blood has stopped leaking from his eyes and nose, but he looks like he's about to pass out.

Is he even aware of where we’re going?

"This never would've happened when his father ruled," Will whispers.

I stiffen. At least he knows what’s going on, even if I don’t. But that won’t stop me from pulling all the info out of these thugs that I can.

"We're in the United States." I put all the acid I can into my voice. "There is no king."

"You're going to learn a lot today," the asshole on the other side of Will says. "Unfortunately for you, you won’t live long enough to enjoy your new-found knowledge."

"You'll have to kill me first," Will says through clenched teeth.

"Not a problem." The head asshole, riding in the passenger seat, turns and looks at us. "That's the plan."

Fuck . If ever shifting into my cat would be helpful, it would be the moment these fuckers turn their back. Please, I know you never listen to me, but if you can shift me as soon as we're left alone, maybe as a cat, we can get Will loose.

She doesn't reply, of course . She never does.

I’m trying to decide what else I can ask to get information from these idiots when they pull the van into a neighborhood that looks like any other neighborhood. Houses set way too close together, fences, dogs running around. Solidly middle class.

Not a single thing that looks out of place or like a ‘king’ would live here. At least we didn’t drive to some freaky, crumbling, haunted-looking house. I think I can handle this.

Pressing the button on a fob clipped to the visor, the driver turns and pulls into a garage, slowing down long enough for the door to fully open.

When we pull in, Will sits up unsteadily and scoots closer to me and away from the jerk on the other side. The garage door shuts behind us, shutting us off from the light of the sun and the eyes of the neighbors. Okay. Shouldn't be too hard to break out of a regular house. No big deal.

Then, the wall in front of us shimmers, and my jaw drops. Holy shit. Where is my damn camera when I need it? I couldn't remember where I'd left it.

The van rolls forward at a creep, and when we pass through what should've been the back wall of the garage, bright sunlight blinds us.

What the hell? That made no sense. The day had been overcast.

I squint against the glare and put a hand over my eyes, then look at Will to see his reaction. He's not shocked at all, but he still looks beyond pissed. I’m hoping that’s a good sign. Because if he looked scared, I think all this magic wouldn’t be quite so interesting.

"You're going to have a lot to blog about when I get us out of this," he whispers.

He sounds a little rough from whatever they did to him, but I know he’s trying to keep things light. Something I can appreciate in a situation where death might be around the next corner.

"When you get us out of it? Well, feel free to rescue us any time," I reply, trying to match his tone.

"And here I thought you had demanded to come because you wanted to rescue me, " he says, a hint of irritation in his voice.

I try not to look guilty. "Sorry, but I'm not feeling very heroic at the moment."

His lips curl into a slight smile. "Of course."

I blink out at the bright world. Are there trees around us?

"Here," Will says, and there’s amusement in his voice as he runs his fingertips over my eyelids. The initial shock of brightness dims.

I look out the windows, and the bright light slowly fades away. I realize we're pulling around and parking in front of a huge fucking castle. It's so big, and we're so close to it, I can't even see the top. The goons exit the van, and the one with Will pulls him along. I follow, grabbing my backpack and trying to keep an arms-length from either of them.

They don't consider me much of a threat because they stand back and motion for me to walk in front of them.

"Come on, Princess. Let's go."

Adjusting my backpack, I look up at the massive front door to the castle, wooden and stained dark and shiny. The whole thing is pretty damn impressive, or would be if I wasn't being kidnapped by some magical king.

I can't take it too seriously, not yet. I trust my cat to shift and get us away, but what about Will? He'd pissed off someone pretty damn powerful if they kidnapped both of us. I couldn't leave him there to die.

The thought of my new friend, however much we liked to tease each other, dying in this drafty old castle pisses me off. "Who do you think you are, anyway?" I hiss at head-dickhead.

He laughs at me. "You're a wildcat, aren't you?"

You have no idea.

Grabbing my arm, he turns me and marches me toward the door. "Keep walking. We don't need blood out here on the front steps. It's uncivilized."

As we top the stairs, the door opens to a cavernous entry room. It's full of statues and suits of armor, with gigantic paintings on the wall, some looking quite old. My jaw drops as I look around.

The room is so big I can't see the details of the people in the paintings, but as Thug-Man leads me toward a set of stairs in the back of the room, some of the newer ones come into sharper focus.

The two in the back, a man and a woman, look familiar. "Who are they?" I ask, nodding my head toward the paintings as he takes us down the stairs. Damn. I'd hoped to go up. Down is never good in a castle.

Of course, up could mean a tower, like a damn twisted-Rapunzel story.

My hair isn't long enough to play out that particular fairytale. If we're here long enough, my cat will shed enough to weave thread and knit an escape rope.

I suppress a giggle. Maybe I'm more nervous about what's coming than I realized.

"Shut up." He sneezes violently. "Must've been a cat in here," he mutters. "I hate cats."

Giving him a look from the side of my eyes, I have to fight another giggle. Stop it. You're getting hysterical.

Will is right behind me. "It's the late king and the dowager queen."

Turning my head to look at him, I put one hand on the wall to keep me steady as we walk down the never-ending spiral staircase. The walls around us are stone and have torches every few feet, lighting the way. "King and queen of what?"

"The witches," he mutters, giving me a disappointed look. "Something I never wanted you to find out about."

Witches. Holy Hell. I was right.

My answers are here. All I have to do is escape, break Will out, and then go snooping.

No problem.

The thug triplets stop at a door instead of continuing down the stairs. I let out a breath, relieved that we weren't going all the way to the bottom. A witches' dungeon wasn't my idea of a great time.

Thug One takes a key out of his pocket, unlocking the door before shoving both of us in. "Wait here. The king will send for you when he's ready."

I stumble into the room and look around, Will right on my heels. How would I shift without him seeing in this tiny room?

Damn it. I hope I don't have to show him what I can do. It’s not that I think a guy who shoots fire from his hands won’t get it; it’s that telling my secret to him feels vulnerable. I’ve never told anyone my secret. The only way to keep a secret is to not freaking tell it.

The room holds nothing but a bunch of straw in one corner. It's the picture of a holding cell for a fairy tale princess. Maybe I am stuck in a twisted fairy tale or something.

Will lowers himself onto the straw with a groan. "Are you okay?" He looks up at me, one hand on his head.

"Let me take a look at that cut," I say as I scurry over to him, dropping my backpack next to him. It's still bleeding a little. I slip my shirt off, then try to tear a strip off of the bottom of it.

It doesn't tear. So, I put the material between my teeth and pull. If I can get a tear started, I can do the rest with my hands.

Will snorts as he watches me struggle with my shirt.

"Give me that." He snatches my shirt out of my hands and stares pointedly at my breasts, perky in a nice bra.

So glad I put on the good bra today.

He stretches out his pointer finger and touches it to the material halfway down the belly of the shirt. A hole appears in the material, burned by the heat of his finger.

"You could cauterize the wound," I tell him as he uses the hole to rip my shirt.

He rolls his eyes. "It's not that easy. I can't burn myself."

When he's got a long strip of my hot pink shirt in his hands, he wraps it around his head. I put the ruined tee back on, very aware that my entire midriff shows. At least my bra is covered.

He's doing it all wrong, so I take the strip of fabric and tie it around his head properly. "I'm not a doctor, and I have no idea if that'll help, but at least your blood won't get in your eyes."

He nods and leans his head against the wall. "They'll keep us here, stewing, for at least a few hours."

"How do you know?"

"Because I was kept here, once." Blinking open his eyes, he looks around the room. "In a room like this one. I can't tell, but it might've been the same one."

"Why were you kept here?"

Will sighs and leans forward, his head in his hands. "I'm a fire mage."

A mage, that sounds better than fire guy. I nod. It makes sense.

"Basically, a witch?"

He snorts. "No, witches use spells . Fire mages use fire like humans breathe. It’s natural to us. An ability we’re born with. Fire calls to us like a living creature." He takes a deep breath, looking exhausted. "Mages are rare and usually respected like hell by witches. They love when mages breed with their kind, because their children are often even more powerful, having a natural ability to control magic."

I nod. Again, it makes sense in a strange sort of way.

"Why don't you look surprised?"

Shrugging, I tell him the truth. Not all of it, of course. "I saw you. On the beach. With the vampires."

"You knew?" He narrows his eyes at me. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't know if you were a bad guy or not." I stand and start to pace, antsy. "What did you expect, me to see you kill that golem in a blaze of glory, then fall into your arms?"

His gaze moves to my bare stomach. "Sounds good to me."

"You're a nutcase." I sit down beside him. "Listen, if we're going to be here for a while, you should rest. Maybe your fiery, flamey, witches-don’t-exist, but-I-can-light-me-on -fire powers will heal the cut on your head."

"They won't, but it'll help me recover from that spell Paul threw at me."

"Um, what the hell was that?"

"A simple pain spell. He's very good at them, and they pack a punch." He closes his eyes and settles on his side.

I stare at him. "I don’t get it. If he can do that, and you can control fire, why even bother with fighting and stuff?"

He sighs. "There are rules."

"Rules?"

He takes a minute to answer. "In a world where most of us can kill with little to no effort, there have to be rules. I can beat the shit out of some of the witches' thugs and piss them off. We could even get into a fight, where one of them might die. There’d be a punishment, but I could handle it. But killing them with my powers? I’d be a dead man."

"You were already a dead man." I challenge him with a look. What’s the point of rules when there’s a price on his head?

Again, he takes his time in answering. "I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been a dead man and gotten out of it. As bad a situation as I’m in right now if I had used my powers on Paul, I’d be completely fucked."

"And he didn’t use his powers on you until the end?"

He opens his eyes, and I realize just how weary he looks. "Again, there are rules. His people wouldn’t have appointed him the head enforcer if he used his powers for everything. It’d make them a lot of enemies. It’d make them look weak. No, they needed an asshole who could fight with his fists, too."

And then something else occurs to me. "If witches want you breeding with their kind, and they’re supposed to respect mages, why don’t they see you that way?"

A tired smile twists his lips. "They keep hoping I’ll come around and see things their way, but they’re reaching the end of their patience with my meddling. If no one else knew, they’d never consider taking me out. But they have a reputation to protect."

I want to know more, a hell of a lot more, but I already feel guilty. He looks so damned tired.

"Rest. I'll wake you if they come in." I put a hand on his thigh in a gesture of comfort, and without opening his eyes, he covers my hand with his.

Damn, if this guy wasn't growing on me. If I can figure out a way to get him out of here, maybe I'll give him half a chance.

Footsteps outside the door make my heart race. I hear male voices but can't pick out if it's the thugs returning. It could be someone passing by, but my panic doesn't care. If they come back, we’ll be taken to the king and killed. What do I do? Should I wake him up or wait and see if the footsteps come here?

Will doesn't move. He must've dozed because it's not been long enough for him to fully fall asleep. So much for us not being here long.

Jumping to my feet, I look around the room, frantic, but there's nowhere to go. I hurry to the other side of the room and press myself against the wall beside the door. When I feel the cat taking over, I've never been so glad to let her. Oh, thank you, sweet puss. You’ve got perfect timing for once.

As I drop, my clothes crumpling around me, the door opens. It slams against the wall, the hinges giving me barely enough room behind it to keep from being squished. As it was, it pressed me into the wall. "Where is she?"

Yep, Thug One. Paul.

Will sounds as shocked as Paul. "I don't know. She was right here."

Paul must've let go of the door because it swung away from me slightly. I peek my head around and see him and Thugs Two and Three standing in the middle of the room, their backs to me as Paul screams at Will.

I'm not going to get another chance. If I can get out and get ahold of the key, I can let him out. I slink around the door and out into the stairwell, hightailing it up the stairs as fast as I can.

My cat is terrified, her fear influencing me. She's never let me be in control before, so she must be really scared. Either that or I've learned how to control her.

Not likely.

When I get up to the entryway, I duck under a rickety wooden table, probably hundreds of years old. It's dusty underneath, and I have to flatten myself into a pancake to fit, but when Paul and the other goons come running up the stairs, there's no way they see me.

"Put the castle on alert," Paul shouts.

A man appears from behind a tapestry. "What's wrong?"

"The human girl is missing."

The other man curses and returns to the space behind the tapestry.

Paul instructs his goon. "Ralph, check upstairs. We were only gone a few minutes. She can't have gone far. I'll check this level. Greg, go check the dungeons."

"I hate it down there," the short, fat goon, Greg, whines.

Paul cuffs him upside the head. "Go."

Greg goes.

When they all disappear, I sneak out from under the table and walk around the room, keeping close to the wall. If someone comes in, I can hide behind a statue or suit of armor. The walls are lined with them.

Between each one is a tapestry depicting some event or another. I check behind each of them, but they're all solid stone until I get to the one the man disappeared behind. It looks like stone, but it wavers as I sniff it. Another mirage, or a glamour. I have no idea what they call it, but I stick my head through it and find a hallway that looks like the room I'm leaving. Statues, artwork, stone walls. Typical castle, at least how I always imagined a castle would look.

I slink my way from one piece of art to another, staying hidden, then race up the next flight of stairs. On the next floor, doorways are peppered up and down the hall, and I pause at each one, sniffing and listening. I'm fairly certain they're all empty, so I keep going. The end of the hall branches off in both directions, but I hear voices coming from the doorway directly in front of me. It looks bigger and more official. It's also closed. Damn it. I need to get inside that room.

I look down the hall. These sorts of rooms usually have more than one entrance. Hopefully, I can find another way in.

Slinking to the left, I move quickly because there's nothing to hide behind in this part of the hall. Another large door in the center of the hallway gives me pause, and I listen, pushing against it with my small body. It's closed, but I doubt I could move it even if it was open. It's too big.

I move on, still looking for a way into the room. As I round the corner, I realize someone is walking out of another of the large doors. This hallway must run around the entire room. I manage to dart into the room as the door closes. It's so close; I swear it pulls out a few of my tail hairs. Thankfully, this room also has artwork everywhere and plenty of places for me to hide. I stop behind a statue and look around. The man from behind the tapestry is on his knees, and head bowed in front of a throne raised on a dais.

Sitting on the throne is a man who radiates such a dark energy that my cat wants to run yowling from the room. Nothing stands out about him as evil. He's relatively handsome. Average height, average build. And yet, every instinct in me and my cat screams to get as far from him as possible.

This must be the king.

"Where is she?" he yells at the bowed man. "Langly, your only job is the security of this castle. Why don't you know where she is?"

"I'm sorry, sire, but she's not triggering any of the spells that sense humans. It's like she disappeared."

"That's not possible. Paul swore to me she's human."

"I don't know, sire, I never saw her." His terrified voice makes my cat panic more, his fear rolling off of him in waves.

She tries to move us, and get out of the room. No. We need answers. Calm down. They don't know we're here or that we're not just a cat. Just don't shift.

"Guards, search every inch of this castle. And bring me the fire mage." A guard near the first door turns and opens it, but as he does, a young woman walks in.

It's the woman from the bar. "You wanted me?" She holds her head proudly. "I came as fast as I could."

"Not fast enough. You were seen with a young woman today at your bar. Who is she?"

"I have no idea. I assumed she was after a spell, but the fire mage interrupted us. When I realized they were together, I told her I couldn't help her."

"She's human?"

"Seemed that way to me, and I'm the best." Tossing her hair back, she looks the king in the eye.

He nods once. "Where is my son?"

"With his nanny." Her demeanor changes, and she tenses up. As a cat, I can feel her change of attitude. She doesn't like him asking about his son.

"He should be with his mother."

Her shoulders move back, and she shakes out her hair again. "You can either have me selling spells in the bar or taking care of our child round the clock. Not both."

The king’s expression closes off, and he looks scarier than ever. "See to my son, then return to your post. We don't have enough power yet." He stands and steps down from his raised throne, getting in her face. "Esmerelda," he hisses.

My cat can't take it. She slinks around the artwork toward the door Esmerelda came in. It's cracked open.

As we dart out, I hear his words. "Your continued protection depends on my satisfaction with your duties as my son's mother. Do not fail me."

We take off down the hall, my cat is too panicked to bother hiding now, and I feel it coming.

I'm shifting. No, not now. We're too exposed.

The scaredy-cat doesn't care. Apparently, the panic shift works in reverse. The next thing I know, I'm on my hands and knees in the middle of the hall, ass in the air, as Esmerelda walks out of the throne room.

"Well, well," she says softly when her gaze falls on me. "This is interesting, isn't it."

I scramble to my feet, and she closes in on me.

My heart races. Is she going to kill me with a spell? Scream for the king?

Am I about to die?

Instead, a wicked smile twists her lips. "Come on, you'll be setting off all the alarms now. Let's get you to my room."

I scramble after her as she saunters down the hall. She didn’t turn me in or kill me, but still, I get the feeling I’m in trouble.

Serious trouble.