Текст книги "Bewitched"

Автор книги: Laura Thalassa

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

CHAPTER 3

I gaze out the airplane’s window, taking in the thick mass of clouds stretching off in the distance. Now that I’m actually in the sky and on my way, my excitement is sinking in.

I’m going to the Galapagos Islands. Forget travel expenses or magical quests—these largely uninhabited isles have been on my bucket list for a while.

When the view of clouds, and more clouds, and oh, look, more clouds, gets boring, I let my mind drift back to when I first became a witch.

Over three years ago, shortly after I began attending Peel Academy, a boarding school for supernaturals, I—and every other new student—went through an induction ceremony: the Awakening. For supernaturals this is an age-old tradition, one that manifests our latent powers.

We’re given a draught of bittersweet, and the potion brings to life our paranormal aspects. That’s when I first felt my magic stir within me, and it was when I learned of the steep cost it demands.

I return my attention to the book in my lap—Multifunctional Magic: Ingredients and Rhymes to Apply to Everyday Spellcasting. Because my mind is not always reliable, I have what I fondly like to call adaptive magic. Fancy for I’m just going to feel things out and wing it. I don’t mean to brag, but it has about a 62 percent success rate.

And honestly, that’s better than nothing.

But I’m hoping the more I study and learn, the more I can actually ease off my innate abilities and draw on things like lunar phases, crystals, spell ingredients, and incantations. I have to believe that the more knowledge I commit to my mind, the harder it will be for my power to completely erase it.

Empress…

I pause, a scowl pulling at the edges of my lips.

Did I just hear something?

A whisper of magic brushes against my skin, drawing out goose bumps.

Come…to…me…

I set my pen down.

Okay, what the fuck was that?

I glance around to see if anybody noticed. Most of the other passengers are sleeping or watching something on their personal TVs. I do, however, catch sight of a plume of indigo magic snaking down the aisle.

Is someone spellcasting—?

EMPRESS!

The plane lurches, and the deep-blue magic now lunges for me, the cloudy wisps of it twining up my legs and around my waist. I bite back a yelp when I see the dark strands of it moving higher and higher by the second, obscuring the bottom half of my body.

I spare the people around me a quick glance, but though a few passengers are looking around, no one else seems to see the magic causing the disturbance or the fact it’s only clinging to me.

I make an absurd attempt to push it away, but the magic is as ephemeral as smoke, and my hands move right through it. The man seated next to me gives me an arch look. Nonmagical humans can’t see power the way witches can. I’m sure I look ridiculous swatting at nothing.

Before I can explain myself, the magic holding me in its grip tugs downward, hard, and the plane dips again. I swear it feels as though it’s trying to rip me right out of the sky.

The aircraft lurches to the right, and my book tumbles off my lap. I can’t see where it landed; the blue-hued magic hides it from sight.

Above me, the Fasten Your Seat Belt sign dings on. The overhead intercom crackles to life. “Hello, passengers…” the flight attendant begins.

Come to me!

I grab my head as the booming masculine voice drowns the intercom announcement. I can’t tell if it’s coming from within me or not, but it seems to be everywhere, and I have the oddest urge to give in to its demands. All the while, that distinct blue-hued magic is making its way up my torso.

The overhead lights flicker, and my stomach drops as the plane loses altitude. A few people cry out.

“This is just turbulence,” the flight attendant continues, translating the reassurance into Spanish and Portuguese while the sky outside seems to darken. “Please remain in your seats. Someone will be by shortly to take another beverage order.”

I peer out the window again, but I can’t see the clouds anymore. Instead, thick plumes of indigo magic press against the outside of the plane.

Empress, heed my call!

Maybe it’s panic, or maybe it’s this strange hold the magic has on me, but before I’m even fully aware of what I’m doing, I’ve unbuckled my seat belt and risen to my feet. Muttering distracted apologies, I angle my way past the surrounding passengers and into the aisle, and the churning smoky power moves with me.

More deep-blue magic is pouring in through air vents and seeping in from the walls themselves, rapidly filling the cabin.

“Hey!” a nearby flight attendant calls, catching sight of me. “Get back in your—”

My queen!

I gasp, putting a hand to my head as the plane jerks downward. I fall against a nearby seat even as I feel more of that magic wrapping its tendrils around me.

I pause, my heart galloping, and I have a moment of absolute clarity.

This is a magical attack.

My eyes sweep over the plane and all its passengers, even as that one flight attendant starts yelling at me to sit back down. I can’t tell if the attacker is inside the plane or somewhere on the ground, but I don’t think I have time to find the culprit and deal with them.

The aircraft hasn’t righted itself; it’s still plummeting, and my stomach has a sick, weightless feeling to it.

The offending magic is everywhere, and it’s growing stronger by the second. It looks like an indigo cloud, the great plumes of it darkening the cabin. No one else seems to notice this, which means I’m probably one of the only supernaturals on board, and I may be the only one who can do anything to stop it.

Ignoring the flight attendant still calling out to me, I focus on my own power, letting it rise to the surface. It presses against the underside of my skin, and I swallow, my heart pattering away nervously. I love my magic, I relish the freedom and strength it gives me, but there’s always a prick of terror, knowing that each time I use it, memories will vanish—and I don’t get to choose which ones.

I have no magical ingredients to mitigate the cost of this magic—nothing but the incantation itself. For whatever reason, spells like the neatness of a rhyme.

“I call on my power to fend off this attack,” I say, summoning my power. “Force out the enemy and beat their magic back.”

I open my eyes as my magic pours out of me. The pale orange hue of it makes it look like clouds at sunset, and as it meets the deep-blue magic, that image only strengthens, the two opposing powers looking like the day giving way to night.

My magic pries the offending one from my torso and slowly but surely pushes it out of the cabin. As I watch, the last strands of it slither out the vents and the seams around the windows.

Once it’s all gone, I draw in a shuddering breath, sagging a little when the plane evens out. Around me, other passengers visibly relax. Then I grit my teeth as I feel the slightest tug in my head. It’s the only indication that I must’ve lost a memory.

“…I said, get back in your seat!” The flight attendant’s voice is shrill, and she’s pointing at me and giving me a look I think is supposed to scare me.

Too late for that. I’m already terrified.

Overhead, the intercom comes on.

“Sorry, folks.” The pilot chuckles. “Just some local turbulence. It looks to be—”

My queen…I felt you…

My magic lingers in the air, shimmering just the slightest. But as I watch, that insidious blue magic seeps back into the cabin.

“No,” I whisper.

When it brushes against my own, the contact is gentle.

I swear I hear disembodied laughter.

Yes. My queen, there you are.

Within seconds, it weaves itself through my magic, blending them together until it’s the color of a bruise.

How I have searched for you.

The fuck is this voice?

Now heed my call, Empress, and COME TO ME.

The plane bucks, then begins to fall in earnest. This doesn’t feel like a little turbulence; this feels like the pilots have lost control of the plane.

People are screaming all over again, and the flight attendant has taken her eyes off me long enough to instruct passengers on proper safety protocol.

While she’s distracted, I dash up the aisle, falling against the seats to my sides as the plane bounces and sways. I haven’t figured out exactly what I’m doing until I’m storming through the first-class seating area.

Whoever I’m up against, their magic is stronger than my own. I can’t hope to stop the attack. The best I can do is mitigate it. If someone is really trying to drag the plane out of the sky, then all I can do is try to help land it.

Give in to this…to us…

The alien magic coils around me, and it feels as though it’s trying to slip inside me. Like it wants me to breathe it in so it can get as close as possible. The experience is fucking unnerving, and yet some aspect of this magic beguiles my senses.

More flight attendants shout at me, demanding I turn around and return to my seat. So far, they haven’t physically tried to restrain me since their attention is divided between me, the other passengers, and the hazardous walking conditions in the cabin. However, the closer I get to the front of the plane, the more frantic their voices grow. As I near the cockpit, one of them finally moves to cut me off. I think he means to tackle me.

“Stop this man in his tracks.” I lift a hand toward the attendant. “Be my arms and push him back.”

I flick my magic out at him. The flight attendant stumbles away, falling into the lap of a nearby passenger. I can feel terrified gazes at my back, and I sense a few people rising from their seats, clearly assuming I have bad intentions.

More of my magic lashes out, shoving these misguided heroes back in their chairs.

There are stronger and more terrifying forces at play right now than a young witch.

Come, little witch. We were never meant to part.

The voice is like velvet, coaxing me. It halts the very breath in my lungs.

I force myself onward, toward the locked door of the cockpit.

I reach a hand out and don’t even bother with a snappy incantation. “Open.” My magic leaps out of me, causing the lock to tumble and the door to swing open.

Come to me, Empress.

I nearly fall into the various switches and buttons on the dashboard as the indigo magic yanks on the airplane again.

One of the two pilots glances over at me. Then she does a double take.

“What in the—?”

The other pilot barks out, “Get back to your seat. Now.” Behind me, I can still hear several people shouting at me to get back to my seat.

I push away from the dashboard and lift a hand to the door. “Close.”

It swings shut, and the lock tumbles into place, sealing us off from the rest of the cabin.

The male pilot glances between me and the door several feet away that seemingly shut itself. His eyes widen with incredulity and perhaps a touch of fear.

“Someone is trying to take us out of the sky,” I say, as though that explains my own magic.

To punctuate my words, the plane jerks violently, throwing me forward. I barely manage to catch myself on the pilots’ seats, trying to regain my bearings.

“I’m here to help land the plane.”

The woman laughs, the sound containing all sorts of skepticism. And honestly, I’d probably laugh too if some little shit who collapsed onto my dashboard claimed she could help.

Come to me…Empress…

The ghostly voice whispers in my ear and against my skin. The hair on my arms stands on end. There’s something perversely alluring about that voice.

“Listen, I don’t care how experienced you both are—you’re working with forces beyond your senses, and you’re not going to be able to land this plane without my help.”

I’d like to say they were roused by my words, but the truth is, both pilots have returned their attention to flying the plane, and the woman is telling her companion about some course of action that might work.

Right.

I close my eyes and take a steadying breath, focusing inward.

“Use my power. Ignore my pain. With this spell, I’ll land the plane.” I incant the rhyme over and over as my power flares, then spreads out from me.

When I open my eyes, I see it clear away the deep-blue magic that obscured the view out the front window. Once I can see our surroundings, I try not to scream. There are rolling mountains and a sea of trees beneath us, and they’re growing closer by the second.

Oh Goddess, we’re going to die.

I take a deep breath and force the insidious thought away.

I just need to help land the plane. It’s not impossible. I concentrate on my power again, letting it unspool from within me, and continue to repeat the incantation.

My power rushes out of me and flows to the underside of the plane. I cannot see what it’s doing, but I vaguely sense it pressing against the aircraft’s smooth metal underbelly. And then I feel it ripple as though it’s becoming its own air current. Hell, maybe it is.

It strains, working to shift the angle of the plane.

Not enough! Not enough!

I grit my teeth, my head throbbing from my exertion.

“I call on magic most arcane. Protect these people. Land this plane.” My voice grows louder, even as the turbines roar and muffled screams filter in from the cabin.

With each utterance, more magic pours out of me. That opposing magic is still present, but rather than battle for dominance, its magic melds with mine.

Once it does so, I feel the nose of the plane inch up, just a little. And then a little more.

The pilots give rapid-fire commands—either to each other or someone on the other end of their headset. Maybe it’s all going to be okay, maybe—

“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! We’re going down!”

Fuck.

The trees out the window grow larger and larger.

I keep forcing my magic out, straining to level the aircraft. Now that that other magic is helping, it’s working. I’m just not sure it’s working fast enough.

I groan, then scream at the exertion.

Empress, I sense you drawing near.

Slowly, slowly, the front of the plane lifts.

“Whoa!” the pilot says, glancing down at the wheel, his hands slipping off it for a moment. Even without him steering, the aircraft continues to pull up. “What the fuck?”

He glances at me, but I’m too busy incanting and directing the power to spare him a look.

“Matt, grab the damn thing and help me land this plane!” the other pilot calls out.

He does reach out for the wheel as the foliage below rises to meet us. I can see leaves on trees and the glisten of rainwater.

It’s happening too fast, and I’m not strapped in—I’m not even in a seat. There is nothing to keep me from being thrown across the cockpit and out the window.

In response to the thought, my magic wraps around me, anchoring me to the spot. I’m not sure I even needed to protect myself. This foreign, insidious magic is there a moment later, cocooning me. It too feels oddly protective.

I know we’re going to crash. I can see it plainly enough from the view, but I still force out more magic in a last-ditch attempt to save us. My head feels like it’s splitting in two from the exertion, and I won’t let myself think about the sheer quantity of memories my magic is dissolving.

A cluster of birds rises from the trees below us, scattering as we close in on the misty jungle below.

“Get ready!” the pilot shouts.

The plane hits its first branch. There’s a sickening snap, then—

Whack, whack, whack—

Wood splinters and metal shrieks as the plane’s underbelly grinds across the treetops. We bounce, and only my magic and this alien power hold my body in place.

The front of the plane dips, then—

BANG!

Despite the magic tethering me in place, I’m still thrown forward onto that damn dashboard, and then everything goes dark.

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CHAPTER 4

“…but I thought she forced her way into the cockpit…”

“…I swear to god, she helped me guide the plane…”

“…wasn’t wearing a seat belt…”

“She doesn’t look hurt…”

I blink my eyes open. Above me, I see the concerned faces of several people, though I recognize none of them. One wears a pilot’s uniform. The others seem to be flight attendants.

Pilots? Flight attendants? What’s going on?

I frown, my gaze moving from person to person. Beyond them I can hear the soft patter of rain and the murmur of many voices.

I draw in a deep breath, the action causing my head to throb.

I know this pain—and I know the accompanying confusion.

Shit. I must’ve used my magic—probably a lot of it too, if my headache is anything to go by.

I take a deep breath and go over my list of basics.

I am Selene Bowers.

I am twenty years old.

I grew up in Santa Cruz, California.

My parents are Olivia and Benjamin Bowers.

I am alive. I am okay.

The people clustered around me have been asking me questions. I try to focus on one of them. “What?” I say dazedly.

“Does anything hurt?”

I frown again, then touch my temple. “My head,” I say hoarsely. My muscles ache, and my clothing is growing damp from whatever is beneath me, but those are minor inconveniences. Even the headache will disappear eventually.

“What’s going on?” I murmur.

“You were in a plane crash,” one of the flight attendants says.

“What?” I sit up too fast, and I have to place a hand on my head as a wave of vertigo washes through me.

There was a magical attack—our plane was being pulled out of the sky—I tried to stop it.

I suck in a breath when it all vaguely comes back to me. But the tattered memory feels more like a dream than something I lived through, and when I try to pry details loose, it seems as though they disintegrate.

I blink around at the gathered crowd; then I focus my attention beyond them.

I make a small noise when my eyes land on our massive plane, which rests on a bed of flattened trees. Some of its siding has been ripped free, and the tip of the wing has been torn apart.

“I…survived that?” I say.

“We all survived that,” the pilot corrects. He’s giving me a look, like he has so much more he wants to say. “Every single one of us.”

I continue to stare at the mangled plane, struggling to wrap my mind around that.

Our plane crashed. It literally crashed. And we all survived.

And I must’ve helped. My confusion and my pounding headache are evidence enough of it.

Unfortunately, I don’t remember much of the experience. Except…except…

Empress…

My breath stills.

I remember that coaxing masculine voice. I—I heard it on the plane. I think, though I can’t say what role it played. And trying to piece it together is only making my head pound harder. I press my fingers to my temple, trying to ease the pain.

“There’s a doctor making the rounds,” the pilot says, drawing my attention back to him. “Can you sit here and hold tight?”

I swallow, then nod.

He pats my leg and stands, moving away to, I don’t know, do whatever pilots do when they crash-land. He does throw me one last glance over his shoulder, and there’s a question in his eyes. He must’ve seen something or heard something, something unexplainable, and now he has questions.

I’m grateful I cannot remember whatever it is he’s remembering. I have no idea how I would explain my magic.

While I get my bearings, one of the flight attendants fishes out some aspirin and a tiny bottle of water. She too gives me a look as she hands the items over, only hers is less curious and more…rankled. I get the distinct impression we had some sort of unpleasant encounter, and it leaves me wondering just what went down in that plane right before we crashed.

Once I’ve taken the medicine and established that I really am okay, she and the other flight attendants leave my side. I watch them head toward other people who are sitting or lying down. There are dozens—if not hundreds—of people milling about. Some are crying while others are holding one another or staring off into the distance.

I let my own gaze drift over our surroundings. Densely packed trees tower above us, blocking out most of the sunlight. Shrubs have found their homes here on the forest floor, fitting themselves into every available nook and cranny. The ground is wet, the plants are wet, and judging by the steady patter of rain, the air itself is wet.

A strange whooping call echoes in the distance. Beneath that sound, there are birdcalls and fainter noises that must belong to frogs or bugs or whatever else inhabits this place.

So we crashed somewhere in the rainforest, which is somewhat alarming when I realize there must be hundreds of miles of wilderness around us.

How long will it take for anyone to find us?

Around me, the jungle seems to literally darken with my thoughts. I touch my head, wondering if beyond the memory loss, I sustained some trauma to it. It’s only when I see a band of deep-blue magic twisting through the trees that I realize I’m not imagining things at all.

The sight of magic out in this jungle should frighten me; it certainly looks ominous as it creeps between the trees. But it stirs something in me, something is right there, at the edge of my mind—

Empress…

My skin pricks. That voice again!

Come to me…

Without thinking, I rise to my feet. I’ve heard of sirens luring people to their deaths; this must be what it feels like. There’s a stirring in my blood at the call of that voice. I don’t know what it wants with me or if it means to do these other passengers harm, but I have the pressing need to draw closer to it.

And so I do. Before the doctor or anyone else can come check on me, I slip away into the rainforest, letting the trees and the shadows swallow me up.

I don’t know how far or how long I walk. I’m in a daze, pulled by the intermittent calls of that voice and the ribbon of dark blue magic that seems to be leading me onward.

Part of me is almost painfully aware that following strange voices and unfamiliar power is a bad idea, and yet there’s an entire other part of me held captive by this beckoning magic.

I run my fingers over a waxy leaf and duck under a vined plant dangling from a branch, swatting away an insect that’s been buzzing around me. I’ve been in this jungle for less than a day, and I can already tell that the world’s freakiest bugs live here, I’m certain of it. I’ve seen at least one spider as big as a salad plate, and not five minutes ago, a beetle the span of my palm skittered by.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

The trip’s gone tits up, but hey, I am getting the whole magic quest experience.

I glance over my shoulder, wondering not for the first time how I’ll manage to find my way back to the crash site. Undoubtedly, I’ll have to use more magic. I assumed I’d follow the magic for twenty paces or so and find the mysterious being behind it all, but that hasn’t happened.

The prolonged walk does give me time to think, namely about the freshly lost memories. There’s no way for me to know which ones or how many of them burned away with the spell. That knowledge is haunting—because I could’ve lost something formative or wonderful or important, and I wouldn’t know it. On the other hand, if I don’t know what I’ve lost, it’s hard to grieve it.

I feel a tingle of power along my skin, distracting me from my thoughts. At first, I think it’s the same magic that has been calling to me, just, well, louder.

But it feels different in some intrinsic way. I halt when I see the magic itself. Unlike the indigo power I’ve been following—which even now lingers above me—this magic glints like iridescent dust motes in the air. As I stare at it, the magic coalesces, thickening around me.

My queen…

The compulsion in those words nearly gets me moving again, but I can’t seem to look away from the magic right in front of me. Movement catches my eye, and I lift my gaze just as a massive shadow leaps from the tree directly in front of me, lunging right for my body.

I don’t have time to move or scream. It slams into my chest, throwing me to the ground and pinning me beneath its weight.

Can’t breathe.

A massive set of black paws rests on my sternum, holding me in place. I let my eyes drift up, taking in the silky dark fur that coats the animal’s forelegs and chest. My attention snags on the creature’s terrifying serrated teeth for a moment before my eyes rise the rest of the way, and I meet the amber-green gaze of a panther.

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