Barely Bewitched (14 page)

“It’s better this way. When the gates open, she’ll send them for you. She’ll make them do worse than kill you. They’ll toy with you,” she hissed.

I stared at her, my mouth agape.

She said, “You’re a traitor.” It was eerie to hear a high-pitched child’s voice full of malice, and my heart seemed to tumble around in my chest.

“Abby, I gave your momma presents for you at your baby shower.”

Her laughter was like shattering glass, and I took a step back.

“I’m not human, silly. I came last year.” She smiled and I got a glimpse of pointed teeth. Suddenly there was a faint greenish cast to her skin, and it glimmered as though she were a lantern lit from within.

“I don’t understand,” I said, taking another step back.

“I’m a changeling. I thought you were one, too, but you’re not. You’re just a mixed-blood mongrel. Still, we would’ve welcomed you since you understood Treespeak, but you abandoned the life of fae. You spit on us,” she snarled, flashing needlelike teeth.

I bolted. I heard her high-pitched laughter as she chased me. For someone small, she ran much too fast. And then I felt a sharp pinch and fell forward.

Pain blossomed as I landed, a hot lance piercing my back and shoulder.

I shrieked, grabbing my arm as I rolled onto my side. I felt blood trickle down my back as I saw her sneakers.

“A poisoned tip for the witch and an iron shaft for the faery.” She laughed again. “You were easy peasy, and I’ll get a special prize from the queen and be in her favor now.” She bent down so that her small face danced over mine. “You can go ahead and cry now. I like hearing people cry. Sometimes I say enough mean things to Abby’s mother to make her cry in front of me. She tries not to—”

I gasped at the thought of a centuries-old creature tormenting an innocent and unsuspecting mortal woman.

“You’re a wretched little thing, aren’t you?”

“Humans get their feelings hurt so easily. It’s fun.”

My good arm shot forward and propelled my fist into her belly. The move jarred my shoulder, making me groan in pain, but it also knocked her down.

“Get away from me,” I said.

She laughed as she stood up. “You’d better hope you die before your fat, ugly admirer wakes up. The dust has brought out his true nature, and he’ll use you if he gets the chance. He thinks you’re so pretty.” She ran a finger over my cheek. I jerked my head away and tried to get to my knees, but my head swam, and I fell back to the ground, wrenching my shoulder. I whimpered, hating for her to see my pain.

She circled around me, jeering. I closed my eyes and pretended to be unconscious. She tugged the arrow several times, making me scream until the pain was so white-hot that I saw a bright light. Then I really did faint.

Chapter 21

It was dark when I woke. My shoulder ached, I couldn’t feel my legs, and my side was soaked. I struggled to get my bearings. From my hips down, I was in water. I vaguely remembered stumbling and falling into the stream.

In the distance, I heard a yowl that sounded like Mercutio. I tried to cry out, but my voice was soft, like it was muffled under a pillow. It didn’t matter if he found me anyway. I could feel that I was dying. All I wanted was to melt into the water like a lump of sugar. No pain. No fear.

As time passed, the arrow in my back didn’t hurt anymore. The numbness seeped along me by inches. My hands, my belly, the tip of my nose. Soon I’d be a bit of frost floating on the stream, pretty as the snowflakes you see in pictures.

The next time I woke, I heard Bryn’s smooth voice above the sound of the creek. “What’s happened to you?” Then he cursed. “You’ve been stabbed? What is—is this an arrow?”

“ ’Xactly,” I slurred, my tongue heavy and thick.

“Who shot you?”

“Abble. Not axshually—” My words sounded like I had a mouthful of taffy.

“All right. Don’t talk, Tamara.” He picked me up and carried me through the woods to a clearing where he’d parked his car.

“She’s like ice, Mercutio. Stay close to her. Keep her warm,” Bryn said, when he laid the passenger seat back and put me on it. Mercutio climbed next to me and lay against my belly. “This damned arrow,” Bryn growled, repositioning me, curling me forward so he could close the door.

I woke up again at his house, lying on a bed with my body propped up at a forty-five-degree angle to keep the bed from driving the arrow in deeper. He had cut my top off and was examining the tented skin where the arrowhead had almost broken through the front of my chest just above my collarbone. I pushed his hand away.

“Tip’s poison. Don’t hurt yourself,” I tried to say, but my words were so garbled, I wasn’t sure he could understand me.

“You’re not going to die. Do you hear me, Tamara?” he said fiercely. “Talk to me. Stay awake.”

I felt the tug at my shoulder as he touched the shaft, but there was hardly any pain.

Body feels so strange.

“I’ll try not to hurt you more than I have to, but I have to get this out. The tip’s undoubtedly barbed. I’ll need to—”

“Don’t care what you do.” I closed my eyes. I wanted to sleep. I could tell that whatever he was doing would be too late. But what the hell? If it made him feel better, that was fine by me. Edie’s locket lay cold and heavy against my chest. I hoped to see her soon.

I drifted until I felt a pinch. I grimaced as the arrowhead tore through the skin in front.

“Will this do?” I heard Mr. Jenson ask.

“Yes,” Bryn said.

Then I felt the metal shaft held tight and heard a snap. Something hit the floor with a thud. My eyes flew open as he gripped the arrow with pliers and pulled it from my upper chest.

“The shaft’s intact. I got it all,” Bryn said.

I closed my eyes, not caring. He rolled me onto my stomach and poured something hot on my upper back.

“Soak the cloth in it, Jenson,” he said and then he draped a wet cloth over my shoulder blade, covering the wound before he rolled me on my back. Mercutio licked my face as Bryn poured what smelled like hot herb tea on me and then put another soaking wet rag over the front wound.

I opened my eyes and saw the anguish in his. “It’s all right. Doesn’t hurt,” I slurred.

“That’s what worries me.” He pushed a strand of hair off my face. “I’ll call you if I need anything else, Jenson. Close the door.”

My lids drifted down as Bryn yanked off his shirt.

“Tamara, you’re not leaving this world. Do you hear me?”

“Have to go.” My whole body was numb, and it was pressed against the bed as if gravity were three times stronger than usual. My chest seemed too heavy to even lift enough to get a breath in. My lips tingled, and my lids dropped shut.

“No. Stay with me.” His voice was soft in my ear and then faded.

I drifted away, floating above the bed, looking down at my body. My dusky skin turned blue, and Bryn pulled me to him. He put my Edie locket over my good shoulder and out of his way before he slid a smooth black stone between our chests. The words of a spell shattered the quiet.

He kissed me, and his magic sizzled, a hot tendril of smoke curling inside my frozen mouth. I shivered, wanting to go. It was calm and cool and nice where my spirit was headed.

He forced his breath and his magic into my lungs, and, a moment later, I was back in my body. It hurt as it thawed. Pins and needles. I squirmed, trying to escape it, but he held me against him, a furnace of coursing magical heat.

Minutes passed before he drew back. His lips and the tip of his nose were blue, too, his breath cold against my cheek. He coughed a couple of times and licked his lips. Frost tipped his gleaming black hair as though we were walking through an arctic winter.

“Look at me,” he said.

I stared up at him. His blue eyes glittered darkly, and I saw the whole universe in them.

“Tamara.”

“I want eyes as pretty as yours,” I mumbled.

He sighed with a slight smile and let his forehead rest against mine. “You hardly need my eyes. Even as blue and cold as death, you’re more beautiful than midnight.”

As the feeling came back, my shoulder throbbed. I let out a hiss of pain. “It hurts now,” I said, biting my lip and trying not to cry.

He shivered. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re cold.”

He poured some steaming tea from a pot into a cup and gulped it down. Shaking, he pulled the covers over us.

“Why are you cold, Bryn?”

“I divided the poison between us.”

“How?”

“By casting a spell that never should have worked.”

“But it did, and now you’re poisoned, too?”

“So it seems,” he said, finding my hand with his and interlacing our fingers.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

He squeezed my hand, and I sighed.
Men. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t die without ’em.

Chapter 22

By the next morning, my shoulder hurt so badly that I wished I had died. October thirtieth, only two days until the challenge. Not that I was in any kind of shape for a magical pentathlon or whatever WAM had planned for me.

“Stop that,” I complained as Bryn cuddled closer to me. His cool body actually felt nice, but whenever he moved, the mattress shifted under me, which sent sharp pains through my chest and back.

“You’re warm,” he said.

“I’m feverish. Hey, cut that out,” I said, using my good hand to block his naked body parts from getting too close to my own. I pushed at him.

“Tamara, I’m freezing. And I got in this condition by saving your life.”

“Who asked you to? My shoulder was as numb as Novocain last night. I felt way better.”

“Sweetheart, please. I swear I’ll never save your life without your permission again. Just let me—”

“No, you be still! I’ll do it.”

I slid my thigh between his and leaned against his chest. “Better?”

He sighed. “Much. You know what else are extremely cold? My lips.”

“Bryn, my shoulder feels like someone is shoving a red-hot poker through it.”

“I bet. Why don’t you kiss me, and I’ll cast a spell to see if I can divide the pain between us.”

“Think that would work?”

“Shouldn’t, but it probably will.”

“We’d better not. You’re already sick enough.”

The edges of his mouth twitched up. “Tamara, I know you can’t be bought, but if I could bribe you into kissing me, how much would that cost? Would ten thousand dollars be enough?”

I laughed in spite of myself, and the pain made me groan. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry,” he said.

I sighed. “No, it’s not your fault.” I paused. “Do you promise to keep still?”

He arched an eyebrow and murmured, “As if my life depended on it.”

I edged my mouth closer and kissed him. The power sparked between us, but not as strong as it usually did. I felt him mumble against my lips, and I gasped as he pushed magic into me.

I broke out into a sweat, and the pain flared white-hot and then cooled. My body tingled.

“Did you just give me poisoned magic?”

“Only a little. Did it help your shoulder?”

I moved my arm experimentally. There was soreness, but the pain was so blunted that I could lift my arm all the way up. “Wow.”

“Good. Kiss me some more.” Someone knocked, and Bryn frowned. “Can’t a man die in peace?” he grumbled.

I checked to be sure that I was totally covered before I said, “Come in.” I blinked as Mercutio’s spots caught my eye. He’d raised his head, and I could see it over Bryn’s body. He’d apparently slept on the bed with us all night.

Over my shoulder, the door opened. I blushed when I realized it was Mr. Jenson, who’d gotten quite an eyeful of me the night before.

“What is it, Jenson?” Bryn asked.

“The police.”

“What about them?”

“They’re here and insisted that I check to be sure that Miss Tamara is not in the house. I assured them that she was not.”

“Why are they looking for her?”

“Something to do with a body.”

“A what?” I gasped.

“Shh,” Bryn said. “Get rid of them.”

“Of course. Shall I cancel the party tonight?”

“No, that’ll arouse suspicions.”

“Whose body?” I asked.

“A person called Earl Stanton,” Mr. Jenson said.

Uh-oh.
“Did he die from a blow to the head with a rocklike object?”

“That wasn’t mentioned and is of course of no consequence to us since we are utterly uninvolved,” Mr. Jenson said with emphasis. I was grateful to him for wanting to protect me, but worried about how many of Bryn’s habits had worn off on him. Bryn was smooth enough to never get tripped up by the police, but I didn’t want Mr. Jenson getting caught lying for me. “Breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes,” he said and left before I had time to protest.

“I’m not sure they’ll be able to tell what killed him since the body was completely charred,” Bryn said.

“His body was burned up?”

Bryn nodded.

“How do you know?”

Bryn surprised by me by smiling. Then he said, “The president of the Shoreside Oaks Homeowners Association called last night while you were asleep. He’s furious that a dead body was found in the woods so close to the neighborhood since that will be counted in our crime statistics.”

My mouth dropped open for a second in shock. “That’s the thing to get upset about? How many feet the body was found from the neighborhood because property values could go down?” I snapped. “Rich people are crazy!” I paused. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

I sighed heavily, then my thoughts went back to the more important matter. “I wonder why Incendio killed him.”

“Can you move your thigh an inch higher?”

I poked him in the rib. “No. I really need you to be brilliant lawyer guy right now.”

“Then move your thigh. I’m sure my concentration will improve when sensitive parts of my body don’t feel like they’re packed in dry ice.”

“Hush,” I said, sliding my leg higher. “No, don’t hush. Tell me what you think about Incendio.”

“I think I wish I had his powers. I’d set this room on fire to warm up.”

“I’m going to get up and see what I can find out.”

“No,” Bryn said, grabbing me. “Don’t go.”

“Then help me think this out. Why would Incendio meet Earl in the middle of the night? And why would Incendio come back to kill Earl after leaving? Maybe I interrupted them, and they had unfinished business? Incendio came back and they argued and then Incendio killed him?” I liked that scenario. I didn’t mind Earl being dead, but it would be nice if I wasn’t a murderer. “I think maybe Incendio and Earl were together the night before last, too. Incendio burned down some trees in my neighborhood, and Earl trashed my car.

“I think the first time they met was at the Whiskey Barrel,” I continued. “And Earl was pretty nasty to Incendio, acting all mean and racist. Incendio doesn’t seem like the type to forgive that kind of thing—or any type of thing for that matter. So how could they have become friends?”

“I don’t know.”

I edged away from him.

“For the love of Saint Patrick, how am I supposed to know that?” Bryn said.

“You’re not, but shouldn’t one of us be out there trying to figure things out? And trying to rescue the town?” I thought of Imposter Abby’s “Fall of Duvall” comment and shivered. “Tomorrow’s Halloween. Did you already cast the spell to reinforce the doors between our world and the faery one?”

“Yeah, I cast it yesterday.”

“I sure hope it holds,” I said, knowing that the circulating pixie dust would make it less likely to. Big cities think smog is the biggest air pollution problem. Little do they know! “So, I should go. Mercutio can stay here and keep you warm.”

“I want you, Tamara. Not your cat. No offense, Mercutio.”

Merc licked a paw unperturbed.

“Besides, you can’t go out,” Bryn continued. “The police are looking for you.”

“I know. I’ve got a plan.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m gonna avoid them.”

“Brilliant. From now on, you’re in charge of strategy.”

“If you’ve got a better idea, let’s hear it. I can’t stay in this bed forever.”

“Why not?”

I laughed. Though I’m always attracted to him, this playful side of Bryn was even more irresistible than usual.

Sleep had flattened his glossy hair against his head, and I slipped my fingers through it to smooth it back into place. “I’m afraid some of that frost has settled into your brain.”

“You might be right. Why don’t you kiss me? That seems to heat me up better than anything.”