CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

They all pressed their backs against the cave wall, hiding in the shadows. Luckily, the witch’s back was turned to them, and it didn’t seem as if she’d seen them.

Caprice moved her head to the left, and even though Gabriel’s heart pounded against his ribs uncontrollably, he could almost feel everyone’s collective sighs.

She was beautiful.

Totally not like the witches he’d read about in books or seen in the movies—the kind you imagined with a long hooked nose and a wart on the end. Nope. Caprice’s long black hair was braided and threaded with gold ribbon. It matched the gold sash tied around the waist of her long black dress and the choker secured around her thin neck. She stood in the middle of the pool. The water lapped against her ankles and a stream of light shimmered over her pale skin. Her reflected image bounced off the many mirrored stalagmites shooting up from the cave floor around her.

Gabriel caught a glimpse of her eyes reflected in one of the mirrors. They looked as black as coal. He snapped his gaze away, terror gripping him like icy fingers. If she met his stare, Jasra had said she could steal his soul. But man, it was hard to tear his eyes away from her. He returned his gaze slowly, careful not to look at her eyes.

Caprice turned her head away. She raised her hands into the air, palms up. Large golden bangles circling both of her wrists clanked together as she moved. The shallow water under her feet rippled, then parted in front of her. From out of the water, a round, white column rose into the air. On top of it sat a vase with a long neck and a round body. Red, gold, and purple shimmering beads decorated the urn.

Gabriel’s heart galloped. The soul vase!

The dimming light in the cavern reminded Gabriel that the sun was beginning to set. Jasra had told them this was the time when Caprice would be at her weakest. If they were gonna move, it needed to be now. Gabriel wished he had the night vision power the empress had given him the last time they were in Valta so he could see more clearly.

But he was fast. Real fast. Somehow, he had to pull together the courage to make a run for it and grab the vase.

He looked at his friends. Brent stiffened beside him and Piper peeked at the witch through the slats of her fingers. Finley looked like his eyes were going to bug out of his head and fall on the ground at any second. Gabriel wasn’t sure if it was because he was so scared or if he was mesmerized by the black witch’s beauty. Probably both.

Gabriel looked at Caprice and tried to gather his nerve. It wasn’t every day he challenged a black witch. A line his old soccer coach used to say whenever he thought the team wasn’t being tough enough ran through his head. Suck it up, buttercup.

Just then a trail of mist began seeping from the top of the vase like a beckoning finger. First it only looked like a sliver of fog. But it quickly grew thicker and twirled into the air with a twisting rainbow of colors. The light in the cave dimmed to only the soft glow of the moon that reflected off the mirrors.

Then the worst thing happened. A low moaning filled the air and bounced off the cave walls surrounding them. It grew louder by the second, until it developed into a whole chorus of shrieks and groans. It sounded like people were crying out in pain. Gabriel remembered what Jasra had said about the souls trying to ascend—to get away—and not being able to. Of course they couldn’t. There was a stupid spell that needed to be broken first before they could really get away.

Piper slammed her hands against her ears.

Gabriel balled his fists and set his legs into a runner’s stance. He couldn’t save the souls until they brought the vase to the white witch to break the spell.

Caprice started chanting. The mist began trickling back into the soul vase. She laughed and continued chanting.

Anger boiled inside of Gabriel. Souls were being sucked back into the vase and the freak witch actually laughed. “Meet me at the exit over there,” he whispered to his friends in the tiniest voice. Then pushing down the fist of fear that gripped his insides, Gabriel darted off.

“Gabrul—” Finley reached out a small, furry hand and tried to stop him.

But Gabriel was already running—running so fast, the air skated past his face, the scenery a whipping blur. His eyes locked on the soul vase with one mission: grab it and run.

The cool water soaking his feet notified him that he had reached the pool of water and reminded him to stop. He dug in his heels, stalling for a second. He stopped just in time to see the last bit of smoke—or souls—filtering back into the vase.

A weird mixture of ash, sugar, honey, and something indescribable hit Gabriel’s nose. The brightly colored beads covering the surface of the urn sparkled, glowing from all sides, reflected in the many mirrors. Keeping his gaze low, he caught sight of the tail of the witch’s black dress for the briefest of seconds. She startled and leapt toward him with a hiss.

Gabriel lunged forward and grabbed the vase, prepared to run for his life and all of the others held captive inside.

Except it was stuck.

Held by some unseen force.

He tugged on it with a loud grunt. “Come on!” he yelled through gritted teeth.

But he shouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t know if it was the tugging on the vase or the sound of his voice, but suddenly bright rays of light shot out from the mirrors that coated the stalagmites. The beams of light landed on the vase, its glow radiating brightly all around them.

Worse, it seemed like the lighting had triggered a magnetic force field that held him in place. He couldn’t remove his hand from the vase—and he couldn’t back away.

The witch laughed, soft and menacing. The splashing sound of the water as she moved toward him hit his ears like a warning bell.

He was trapped.