CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

 

When I’d agreed to Joss’s caveat of not leaving the cottage all afternoon, I hadn’t quite realized what I’d be letting myself in for.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Even though he didn’t live here, I hoped he might’ve left behind a few books. He had, but nothing cool; Drawing the Short Sword and Mastering Your Inner Fire: Pyrokinesis for Beginners didn’t do it for me. There were no magazines, no TV, and no iPod. Even me, Geek Girl, would’ve killed for a Teen Vogue or a Gossip Girl rerun right about then.

With Uriel a no-show all afternoon and Joss on secret sorority business, I’d explored almost every inch of the place. The only rooms I hadn’t explored were Uriel’s bedroom and Joss’s old room. Not that I wasn’t tempted. Anything to relieve the unrelenting boredom and give me insight into the guy I couldn’t stop thinking about.

He confused the hell out of me. He could be brash and abrupt and surly, yet other times he’d been caring and understanding and supportive. From his own admission it sounded like he’d been forced into protecting me, but that didn’t make any sense if I believed all that geis and bound-together crap. Unless he hadn’t wanted the job and had been blackmailed into it by the Sorority? Stupid conspiracy theories, but I was bored.

The thing was, whether Joss was grumpy or nice, I liked him. He wasn’t like most of the guys I knew, guys I’d grown up with at school who, once they hit puberty, talked about nothing but themselves. Who scored the most touchdowns, who had the biggest car, the biggest allowance, the biggest dick. Ironic, as they all did. They were all big dicks the way I saw it.

Joss was nothing like that. In saying less, he said more, conveying so much in a few well-chosen words, in a fleeting touch. And whatever his motivation for protecting me, having him by my side made me feel a whole lot safer.

Even mooning around over Joss couldn’t distract me enough. I’d cooked up a batch of vegetable soup. I’d wiped down the countertops. I’d even dusted, and I freaking hated dusting. I was about to throw a bunch of herbs into a stainless steel bowl and try to master scrying—if only to tell me when someone would return—when a noise at the window made me jump.

The sane thing would’ve been to back away from the window. But this new me, fresh from accepting the challenge to find Arwen and master a bunch of psychic challenges and the liberating experience of connecting with Bel’s fire, had me grabbing a knife for some meager protection and inching toward the window to peer out.

I flattened my back against the wall and edged toward the window, my heart thumping so loudly I could barely think past the noise pounding in my ears. I eased around the window frame, angling for a better view, peeking behind the gingham curtains …

Slam! A rock crashed through the window, showering me with glass. I screamed as a hand reached through the gaping hole and yanked me by the hair. Yelping, I dropped the knife; my first instinct was to save myself from being dragged through the razor-edged window headfirst.

I clawed. Scratched. Writhed. Used my body weight to launch forward. Away from the window, despite the sheer agony of having my hair pulled out by the roots. It worked. I dragged my assailant’s arms across the jagged glass in falling forward, resulting in sudden, welcome release.

Frantic to escape, I tried to stand, slipping on the glass fragments covering the floor, going down in a sprawling heap. I couldn’t stay still, my hands and feet working in sync as I scuttled backward in a bizarre crab walk, desperate to get away from the gaping window. My throat, raw from screaming, convulsed as a leg appeared, hoisted over the windowsill and I glimpsed Keenan’s evil face leering at me.

Propelled by terror and adrenalin, I surged to my feet, slipping and sliding but not stopping for anything. I bolted for the guest room, slammed the door, and leaned my head against the wall as my legs gave out. I slid down the wall and landed hard on my butt, praying to Bel or Jesus or whichever god was out there to save me.

Heavy footsteps thudded down the hallway and I scrambled to my feet, pressing my ear to the door, then backing away the closer they got. Whimpering, I rested my forehead against the wall, shocked at the familiar burning, the blistering heat, the stomach-tumbling freefall. When I opened my eyes, I’d never been so glad in my entire life to be slumped in the stone shed by the river at C.U.L.T.

Alone.

 

 

I’d fallen off the old armchair and lay sprawled against the wall, my legs shaking so much I couldn’t have stood if I’d wanted to.

What the hell had just happened? One moment that lunatic Keenan had been chasing me, the next I woke up back at C.U.L.T.

My forehead throbbed and I tentatively probed it, surprised by its smoothness when it felt like a colony of worms wriggled beneath the skin. A residual heat lingered too, and I lowered my hand as realization hit.

I’d been powerless and petrified in that guest room in Uriel’s cottage, my hands a bloodied mess and useless to defend myself. Defeated, I’d rested my forehead against the wall and … the symbols. Hadn’t Joss mentioned something about the guest room being a safe haven in that house because of the symbols? Obviously, my third eye had connected with one of them and I’d ended up back here, thank goodness.

But my relief was short-lived when I imagined Keenan hanging around the cottage, waiting for the return of Uriel. I tried to stand and pain sliced through my forehead, an agony so intense I saw stars for a few seconds.

I collapsed against the wall and dragged in deep breaths, waiting for my vision to clear.

I had to go back; there was no question. Uriel could be in danger. Plus Joss and the rest of the gang would seriously freak when they saw the carnage in the house and would assume the worst: that I’d been taken.

My bleeding hands throbbed, shredded by the glass fragments. Common sense insisted I fix them before attempting a return journey. As much as I wanted to press the crystal to my forehead and return instantly to help protect the people I’d grown to care about, I’d be useless to anyone until I could use my hands in some capacity.

I braced for the pain, taking deep breaths to steady my wobbly knees as I stood. Thankfully, the excruciating roar in my head subsided to a dull ache and I managed to stay upright as my feet touched the ground.

At least I had a clear plan: head back to the dorm, clean up, and get back here ASAP before the sun set and I lost my opportunity to do my crystal trick. All without running into anyone and arousing suspicion. Easy, right? However, like the rest of my life over the last few months, nothing was easy, and as I limped across the school grounds and slipped into the dorm, the first person I ran into was Raven.

“Uh-oh,” I muttered, as she glanced at my hands, then my hair.

“Jeez, what happened to your hair?”

Trust Raven to make me laugh at a time like this.

“Your hands too,” she added belatedly, with a wry smile. “Seriously? The blood I can put up with. Your hair?” Her hand wavered. “Not so much.”

I needed to come up with an excuse, fast. Something I’d never been any good at, thinking on the spur of the moment. When I stood there like a dummy, she grabbed my hands and turned them palms up.

“You’ve got glass bits stuck in there. Want some help?”

I couldn’t afford the time but accepting her offer made sense. Tweezing left handed would be tough and this way I’d be out of here faster. “Thanks.”

I limped to my room, her constant sideways glances annoying the crap out of me. At least our silent walk down the corridor gave me time to invent an excuse.

As soon as we stepped into my room, I headed to the bathroom, calling over my shoulder. “I’m such a klutz. Wanted to master the next chapter in our scrying text to get Crane off my back, so I took stuff down to the river. I slipped, smashed the bowl on the rocks, snagged my hair in a tree branch, and ended up falling on top of everything.”

She didn’t believe me. I could see it in her slightly narrowed eyes, her thinly compressed lips. “You know scrying requires a steel bowl?”

Holding my cut hands up, I shrugged. “I do now.”

She took pity on me despite my sheepish smile and lousy excuse, not pushing for answers. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She followed me into the bathroom, got the first aid kit from behind the mirror, and pointed to the bathtub. “Sit.”

I did as I was told, holding out my hands and holding my breath. One thing I hated more than a lord of darkness chasing my ass? Blood.

“This won’t hurt a bit,” she said, her tone teasingly gleeful as she took hold of my right hand and pressed the tweezers into my palm.

I gave a yelp and jerked back as the cold metal tip dug into my skin.

“Don’t be a wuss,” Raven said, holding my hand tighter. “What would Lissa do?”

I managed a small smile at her Vampire Academy reference as a distraction. “Considering she’s a mortal vampire, she’d probably suck her own blood.”

“Eeew!”

But Raven’s question did the trick as we started debating the strength of Lissa and Christian’s relationship, the whole Strigoi/Moroi thing, and how hot Dimitri was.

Every time the tip of the tweezers dug into my palm I flinched, biting back a host of words both of us had heard a million times before. Every time a fragment of glass dropped into the sink, I got angrier. Really angry. An anger I’d never felt before. An anger that served to fuel my hunger. My hunger to win.

What if Uriel had been at the cottage when Cadifor’s groupie broke in to get me? Would she be considered collateral damage, eliminated?

The thought of Joss losing another mom made me want to puke.

Raven finally plucked out the last piece and handed me a glass of water. “Here, you’ve turned green.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, gulping it down, forgetting how sore my throat had been from all the screaming.

“Could be worse,” she said, dabbing cotton with antiseptic. “Lucky you were wearing shoes.”

Glancing down, I wiggled my toes. If I hadn’t been wearing my favorite ballet flats, I probably wouldn’t be here. No way could I have run from that madman in bare feet; the glass would’ve hobbled me.

“So, would you do Harry Potter or Ron Weasley?”

I played along, bracing for the teeth-clenching sting of antiseptic.

“Harry in a heartbeat,” I said, letting out an almighty yell as she dabbed at my palms.

“There, all done.” She bandaged them, sat back, and dusted off her hands, admiring her handiwork. “Not too bad. You’ll get a sympathy vote at dinner.”

I slid off the bath rim and stood, glad I wasn’t so wobbly anymore. “I’m not coming to dinner.”

“Why not?” Raven rinsed off her hands, her curious gaze meeting mine in the mirror.

“I need to go see Nan.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“Uh-huh.”

Raven grabbed a hand towel and spun around to face me. “Weren’t you supposed to spend the whole weekend with her?”

I hated lying. Not that I’d done a lot of it, but the few times I’d spun Nan little white lies, I’d get so caught up in the web I couldn’t escape without the whole thing unraveling. “Yeah, but I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the new lessons and thought I’d do some catching up in private, so I stuck around here today.”

“Cramming on a weekend when you could’ve escaped this place?” She shook her head and pointed at my hands. “Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson. No pun intended.”

I smiled and started shifting from foot to foot, eager to return to Eiros, my guilt at lying to Raven stinging as much as my hands.

Picking up on my edginess, she headed for the door. “Anything else I can do?”

Waving my bandaged hands in the air, I said, “You’ve done enough. Thanks again.”

She shrugged, suddenly bashful. “I guess if this telekinetic thing doesn’t work out, I can always resort to nursing.” She waved. “Later.”

I gave her a ten-second head start before bolting out the door, my feet flying along the corridor, out of the dorm, and across the lawn toward the river. A bunch of juniors saw me and cast curious glances my way, focusing on my head, and I belatedly realized I hadn’t done anything about my hair. I’d caught sight of it while Raven had fixed my hands. It wasn’t pretty. Thin and wispy at its best, it now looked like I’d seen a ghost, sticking up in crazy clumps all over the place.

It was the least of my worries as I tumbled into the stone shed, fumbled for the crystal bag, and shook out a few, picking the one that worked. I sat against the far wall, the one where the sun poked through the holes in the roof just right, and held the crystal to my forehead, closed my eyes, and waited.

 

 

As the heat drained from my body, I opened my eyes to madness.

The front door to the cottage was wide open. Mack and Oscar were arguing, their voices ear-splitting. Maeve alternated between wailing, knuckling tears, and shooting death glares at Joss, while Joss paced his mom’s kitchen, his face pale, his expression blank and his lips compressed, like a guy who’d withdrawn and shut off from the world. But his eyes told a different story. They blazed with a fury that took my breath away and I knew exactly who he’d be angry with: himself, for thinking he hadn’t done a good enough job protecting me.

Joss was the first to notice me as I stepped through the front door and all I could think when we locked gazes was hold me.

“Holly!” He flew across the room and bundled me in his arms, squeezing so tight I couldn’t breathe. Not that I minded. He smelled of the outdoors and apples and crushed oak leaves, familiar, comforting, and oh so delicious.

He released me as the rest of the Sorority crowded around, assuming his stoic warrior face again. But I could see the emotion in his eyes, the muted anguish he’d gone through the last half hour, and now the relief.

Emboldened by my recent brush with evil, I touched his hand. I’m okay. And really glad to see you.

Before he could respond the others jostled me, hands urging me toward the dining table and pushing me to sit. Mack, Maeve, and Oscar wore matching expressions: shock, their mouths slack-jawed, repetitively blinking like they’d seen a ghost.

“Hey guys, lighten up. You think I’m that easy to grab?”

Their open-mouthed silence answered that particular question.

“How did you … ?”

Mack trailed off and I filled in the blank.

Survive?

As I glanced around at their concerned faces—Maeve still sniffling and swiping tears, though this time in relief, Mack staring at me in wonder, Joss’s tumultuous emotions barely hidden behind his warrior mask—I don’t know what freaked me out the most: the fact that even Oscar seemed seriously glad to see me, or that everything had been cleaned up so quickly, like my struggle with the bad guy never happened.

The glass had vanished, the jagged edges protruding from the window had been removed, and there wasn’t a rock in sight. I could’ve imagined the whole thing if it weren’t for my throbbing hands and the residual adrenalin that had me twitchy as a bookaholic at the Mockingjay launch. I’d come back here to reassure the Sorority I was okay, to make sure Joss knew he hadn’t failed, but being here, where that creep had tried to get me, had me jittery enough to want to go after him and beat the crap out of him myself.

“Give her a second,” Joss said, standing close, protective. What I would’ve given to have him here thirty minutes ago.

“I’m fine,” I said, flashing him a grateful smile, which he acknowledged by brushing his fingers across the back of my wrist. Ooh … nice.

“I was following instructions, hanging out in here, when a rock crashed through the window and that guy tried to grab me.” Touching my sore scalp, I winced. “I swear the creep ripped out half my hair. Anyway, he came in after me. I ran to my room and heard him coming down the hall.”

Panic welled as I mentally relived the attack, but I subdued it. This wasn’t the time to wallow. This was the time to get even.

“I was pretty much freaking out and was exhausted, so I leaned against the wall, and next thing I know, my forehead connected with the Arwen Triple Flame symbol and I woke up back at school.”

Mack, astute as ever, pounced on one tiny detail.

“That guy? You knew him?”

Uh-oh, slip up number one. How many more would I make before I saw this thing through? Not in the mood for judgment, I ducked my head. “Kind of.”

Oscar shook his head. “What does that mean?”

Joss touched me again, a gentle nudge with his hand in the middle of my back, and that was all the encouragement I needed. I trusted him, and if he thought I should blab, I would. Truth time. “I saw him in a vision earlier today.”

Mack frowned. “When?”

“At the temple. When I asked for some time alone.”

Maeve’s tears had dried and Oscar’s frown had returned. So much for the sympathy vote. Not that I needed it, but it had been nice to have them view me like a vulnerable human for once instead of a freak of nature they needed to tolerate to further their own ends.

“I haven’t had a vision all week; then, at the temple, I had one.”

“Of?” Mack prompted, his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones, the tension aging him.

Before I could respond, Oscar jabbed a finger in Joss’s direction. “You knew about this?”

Joss nodded, his jaw clenched, probably to stop from saying something he’d regret.

Oscar scowled. “And you didn’t tell us because?”

“Because we all know visions aren’t reliable. They could mean anything, be interpreted a hundred different ways,” Maeve chirped up, assuming the peacemaker role as usual, and I shot her a grateful smile.

Oscar scowled. “He still should’ve told us. This isn’t a one-man show.”

Mack held up his hands, palms down, placating. “Let’s get back to Holly’s vision.”

I held Joss’s gaze for a long moment, hardly believing he could convey so much in a simple glance. I’m fine, Oscar doesn’t worry me, just tell the truth, I’m here for you.

Buoyed by his silent support, I nodded and continued. “I saw Cadifor talking to this guy. His right hand man?”

“Keenan?” Mack asked, and Joss nodded.

“Cadifor was hiding something up his sleeve,” I said.

Mack, Oscar, and Maeve leaned forward as one.

“He had my picture.”

They relaxed—obviously they’d expected a knife or poison or something equally dastardly—but not for long.

“He knows who you are?” Oscar growled, shooting Mack an “I told you so” glare.

I shook my head. “Not yet. He asked Keenan to find out who I was.”

“And?” Mack prodded gently, astute as always.

“He wanted something of mine.”

They stiffened. Their simultaneous reactions would have been comical if not for the fact Cadifor now had exactly what he wanted: a piece of me. Several, judging by the gaping chunks of hair missing from my scalp.

Maeve pointed to my hair and winced. “That looks painful.”

“Not as bad as these.” I waved my bandaged hands around like war wounds, sucking in a breath when I accidentally bumped them together. False pride, Nan would’ve said, and clucked her tongue in a way that made me feel like a naughty five-year-old.

“That explains why the glass is gone.” Mack jerked a thumb at the clean floor, then glanced at my bandages. “You cut your hands on the glass pieces?”

I nodded, flexing my fingers to show they still worked.

“Hell.” Oscar slammed his palm on the table and everyone jumped.

Confused by their collective horrified expressions, I said, “What’s wrong?”

Apart from the obvious, that Cadifor was one step closer to discovering my identity? And I had some serious bed-head going on.

Mack glanced at Joss, who nodded. Mack sighed. “Along with your hair, Keenan must’ve collected all the glass.”

“So he’s a clean freak? Big deal.” Silence greeted my smartass response, a silence that grew.

They all glanced at Mack, so I did too. The longer they stretched this out, the higher my anxiety shot. On a scale of one to ten, my panic was a healthy eleven right about then. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Mack rubbed his temple, as if trying to stave off a blinder of a headache. “You cut your hands on the glass.”

“Duh. Just say it—”

“He now has your blood.”

Creepy, but not catastrophic on its own. It wasn’t like he had a forensics lab down there or anything. “And that’s bad because?”

“The more DNA he has of yours, the more powerful the divination spell he can use. With blood … ”

Oscar swore again. “Blood intensifies the potential of the divination a hundredfold.”

Whatever blood I had left congealed in fright. “But Joss said you don’t know if he’s any good at scrying. Maybe the stuff he saw in the last vision was a lucky guess. Maybe using my DNA will show him nothing.”

Joss stepped forward and laid a steadying hand on the small of my back, that small yet profound touch scaring me more than anything “Unlikely,” he said. “Using someone’s blood in a scrying spell is like examining them under a microscope.”

I didn’t like Maeve’s palpable pity while Oscar glared, his expression solemn.

“So he’ll know who I am?”

Mack nodded. “And he’ll know why you’re here.”

“How? By getting a glimpse of me?” My voice rose, a tinge of hysteria audible.

“Keenan would’ve seen the symbols in that room, told him you’d vanished, and he’ll know you’re the one.”

“Crap.” It was creepy enough Cadifor had pieces of me and would soon know who I was, but to know who I really was? It was too soon. I needed time; time to learn every trick in the book to face off with a freak like him.

Mack rubbed his chin, thoughtful. “It’s not all bad.”

Oscar sniggered. “How do you figure that, Einstein?”

I managed a weak smile at Oscar’s sarcasm.

Mack glanced at me, his admiration encouraging. “You’ve mastered another task, becoming one with the Arwen Triple Flame and using it.”

Four expressions immediately lightened as I sagged in relief. “At least something good came out of my scalping and bloodletting.”

“Better than good,” Joss said, his tone warm with approval. “Being able to use the Triple Flame is hard to master. And if you used it to teleport … ”

I’d discovered another way to move between the worlds. Way to go me. Speaking of tasks, something else occurred to me. “Hey, if I faced off one of Cadifor’s baddies, isn’t that another task?”

Maeve shook her head, gnawing her bottom lip. “No, you need to banish one of the Underworld’s lesser creatures, not escape from it.”

“There’s a difference?” Surely escaping from that madman should’ve counted for something?

The Sorority nodded in unison. I didn’t want to delve further into what lesser creatures I’d be facing in the not-too-distant future, not while I was still in a funk after escaping the clutches of Cadifor’s crony.

“It’s not safe for her to be here right now,” Joss said, folding his arms and facing down the others.

Mack nodded. “Agreed.”

“But what about tomorrow? Preparing for Beltane?” Predictably, Oscar wouldn’t lose sight of the ultimate prize: me finding Arwen before Cadifor did.

“Crash course via textbooks back at school. Then we’ll do a quick run-through before the festival next week, okay?” Joss didn’t budge from his protective stance, and I shot him a grateful smile.

Oscar scowled. “She needs more practical experience. Beltane’s a big deal. She needs to be ready.”

“She will be.” Mack’s steely tone brooked no argument. “We’ll make do. We have to. We can’t risk her … ”

“Dying?” I helpfully supplied.

Joss rested his hand on my shoulder, solid and comforting. “We won’t let that happen.”

For once, I bit back my first words:

You almost did.