Blood of the Exiled (Witch Fairy Book 10) (22 page)

“It is a curse that leaves its victims breathless.
 
Permanently.”

My head snaps around to her.
 
Is she serious?
 
“You mean it’s supposed to kill us?
 
All of us?”
 
The Witches are going to be caught just like the Fairies this time?
 
We need to broaden our search for suspects then.
 
Who would want me and my friends
and
the Witches dead?
 
A rival of Grandpa’s maybe?

Clearing my head with a shake, I focus on the here and now.
 
We can worry about who did it later.
 
“How do we break the curse?” I demand of Tana.

Panic suffuses across the smooth lines of her face.
 
“It takes…it takes dark magic to counter such a strong curse.”
 
I don’t know if her panic is because of our impending doom, or if it’s because she doesn’t want to get back on the dark magic crazy train.
 

Great.
 
This is reason she gave for wanting to come and now she’s going to freeze up on us?
 
I knew I should have said no to her coming with us.
 
I get up and move to her chair.
 
I spin it around and crouch down in front of her.
 
“Tana, tell
me
how to do it.
 
I understand
,
it’s too soon for you to do something like this.
 
That’s okay.”
 
I will pretend to understand since all of our lives are in danger and I need answers fast.

With a nervous glance in the direction of the smoke getting ever closer, she says, “It would take too long.
 
It’s a matter of thinking of the right runes while doing the correct hand motions and twisting the magic in a certain way.
 
I…I do not know if I am strong enough.”
 
If I had any thoughts before that her joining us was just an excuse to do dark magic, they are wiped away by the sheer terror in her eyes.
 
I try to tell myself this is a good thing.
 
It’s ill-timed, but a good thing.

“Xandra, do something!” my grandfather orders.

“You are King of the Witches, and it was obviously a Witch who did this.
 
Why are you doing nothing to stop it?” Kegan grinds out.
 
He has lifted Alita into his arms and is moving her farther from the door and the black curse seeping into the room.
 
He’s right, why aren’t the Witches doing anything?
 
They hate me but they expect me to save their lives when they’re too weak to do it on their own?

“I don’t do dark magic,” Grandpa claims, the implication being then that I do.
 

I don’t have time to worry about his opinion of me.
 
“Tana, I want you to twist the magic.
 
You can channel it through me.
 
I will power it.”
 
Before her objections are spoken, I say, “We don’t have a choice.”
 
Push her over the edge of the dark cliff or let everyone in the room die?
 
It’s not a difficult decision.
 
Besides, she could recover again, right?
 
I’m trying hard to convince myself that the ends justify the means on this one.

If only my nagging conscience wasn’t getting in the way.
 
No matter how I feel about this woman, she’s important to Kallen and Dagda.
 
I can’t take her away from them again.
 
Not when they just got her back.
 
“No.”
 
I shake my head and get to my feet.
 
“No, I won’t make you do this.”

“What the hell is going on?” Grandpa demands.
 
“Who is going to stop this damn thing?” He’s ready to jump up on the table like he’s afraid of a mouse or something.
 
So much for being him being a brave King.
 
I’m glad he didn’t pass on his cowardice genes.

“Be quiet,” I tell him.
 
“I need to concentrate.”

“What can you do against a dark curse of this magnitude?” Sylar snipes.

I can be snippy, too.
 
“You seem to know something of dark magic, would you like to try?”

I’ll take her lack of response as a no.
 
Closing my eyes, I shut out the noise of the room, the hushed prayers and the hushed conversations about how we’re going to die.
 
Only the Witches are saying these things, of course.
 
My friends have a bit more confidence in me than that.

Taz, who has been unusually quiet, says, “Is the old bitty bothering you?
 
I can take her out for you.”

I scowl down at him and shake my head.
 
“Have you been watching gangster movies today?”

“It’s not like there is anything else to do in the god forsaken place.
 
Now, do you want me to take the old bitty out or not?”

“Not.”
 
Disappointed, he slinks over to a corner well away from the curse.

I feel a hand slip into mine and grasp it tightly.
 
I open my eyes and find Adriel standing next to me.
 
“You can do this,” she says, squeezing my fingers together painfully in an attempt to reassure me.

I sure hope she’s right.
 
Reading my mind, Tana rises and takes her place on the other side of me.
 
“Yes, you can do this.
 
You are strong enough.”
 
She’s feeling better now that she’s off the hook.

Okay, here goes.
 
Closing my eyes, I pull magic inside me.
 
Slowly, I let it slip outwards, seeking the dark curse that’s coming for us.
 
When I make contact, I feel an electric shock and I jump.
 
It wasn’t lightning strong but still strong enough to hurt like hell.
 
This isn’t something I can just ram with my magic and it’ll dissolve.
 
Crap.
 

Taking a deep breath, I try again.
 
Carefully, I touch the very edge of the curse.
 
I don’t push against it.
 
Instead, I attempt to taste it, to understand it.

The first thing I get from it is that it’s pure evil.
 
No shocker there.
 
But there’s more to it.
 
It’s feeding on the air as if it needs oxygen to live.
 
It’s the search for more oxygen that drives it forward.
 
I can’t tell what went into twisting it, but oxygen is definitely its fuel.
 
Without it, the curse will fizzle and die.
 
So, what I need to do is get rid of all the oxygen in the room and we’ll be fine.
 
Except for the pesky asphyxia we would all suffer.
 
I sigh.
 
That’s not the answer.

Thinking back to my science lessons with dad, I get an idea.
 
North Carolina is a humid state.
 
Grandpa has central air, but a house this big will still have a lot of moisture in the air.
 
Turning to Grandpa, I say, “Close the vents in here.”

“Shouldn’t you be trying to get us out of here instead of shutting us in with this thing?” he demands.
 

I am out of patience and almost out of time.
 
“Just. Do.
It.”
 

Something on my face quells any more arguments from him.
 
He moves dangerously close to the blackness filling the room and pushes down a small lever to close the vent.
 
He then quickly moves across the room to close the other one.
 
“Done,” he says.

“Nixie, I need you to hold on tight,” I say to the light on the wall.

“Who the hell is Nixie?” Grandpa asks.
 
I don’t bother to answer.

I close my eyes again and use my magic to search for the humidity in the room.
 
I picture the water molecules in my mind and imagine binding them together.
 
I gather the moist air until I have enough to create a small wall, which I begin to spin.
 
As the molecules swirl, they become hungry, searching for more moisture to feed on to keep it going.
 
Just like a tornado.
 
Also like a tornado, it starts to pull in anything in its path.
 
Papers, cups, and everything else small is sucked into it.
 
The others have moved to the far corner of the room and are clinging to each other for fear of being pulled in as well.
 

Slowly, I move the tornado to the line of black smoke coming into the room.
 
I feel it attempt to resist the pull, to go around it, but it gets sucked in anyway.
  
As the curse is pulled toward the center of the funnel, it finds a cache of oxygen just waiting to be fed upon.
 
Tornadoes don’t create vacuums.
 
The eye of the tornado is composed of the same air as outside of the tornado, meaning it can fuel the curse.
 
The curse gives up its resistance and soon all of it is in the whirling storm I’ve created.
 
Once the curse has been completely absorbed by the spinning, wet molecules, its entirety moves to the center where the air is richer in oxygen.
 
I’ve trapped it.
 
Sort of.
 

“I need something to put it in,” I say over the noise of the tornado.
 
I duck, pulling Adriel and Tana down with me as glass from the window splinters and
comes
flying towards us.
 
The tornado is raging now and it won’t be long until it’s too big to control.

“What do you suggest?” Sylar asks.
 
“My purse?”

I wonder if I could ram the tornado down her throat.
 
“This is not the time to be a bitch.
 
Is there anything close by that has an airtight seal?”
 
I know I’m asking a lot because the door is still blocked.
 

“How big does it have to be?” Glinda asks.

Good question.
 
How much mass does a curse have?
 
“The biggest thing you can find.”

The Witch moves to a cabinet near the window.
 
She takes out an old fashioned, silver coffee urn.
 
“Can you melt the silver lid and spout to create an airtight seal?” she asks me.

I nod.
 
“I think so.”
 
That will be the easy part.
 
The tricky part is going to be getting the tornado into the teapot.
 
I need to make the tornado a lot smaller.

“That was my great grandmother’s urn,” my grandfather huffs.
 
Everyone in the room gives him an incredulous look.
 
His lips flatten into a thin line but he doesn’t say any more about using the urn.

Concentrating on the tornado again, I press in on it with my magic making it skinnier.
 
I have to move slowly, not wanting the curse to escape.
 
After a moment, I switch to pressing it down, making it shorter.
 
I continue to do this until it’s a more manageable size.
 
Now, I pull it closer to me and I hold my hand out for the coffee urn.
 
Glinda hands it over and then scoots to the far end of the room with the others.

I set it on the table.
 
As the tornado nears it, the coffee urn begins to tremble.
 
It’s not going to stay put so I can just plop the storm into it.
 
I need it be held down.
 
The problem is
,
if anyone holds it down with their hands, they will be too close to the curse.
 
They could easily be affected by it.

Reading my thoughts, Kegan places Alita’s still unconscious body in a chair.
 
Glinda, who I’m starting to like, moves to her side to make sure Alita doesn’t slide out of it.
 
Kegan moves towards the coffee urn.

“No,” I tell him.
 
“Alita would kill me if anything happens to you.”

“If I don’t help you, we could all be killed.
 
She’d be even more upset about that.”
 
He has a point.
 
“I’m going to try using my magic to hold the urn steady.
 
Will your magic attack mine when it gets close?”

My magic has such a lousy reputation.
 
I give him the best answer I can.
 
“I don’t think so.”
 
I get an irritated look from him for the uncertainty in my voice, but he moves forward anyway.

I feel his magic pour out of him and travel to the urn.
 
Kegan’s magic isn’t as strong as Kallen’s, but it’s strong.
 
He wraps it around the base of the silver urn and anchors it to the table.
 
He is able to hold it still as I move the now tiny tornado closer inch by slow, painful inch.
 
It gets a little shaky when I have the tornado next to it, but he doesn’t lose his hold.

Now, how do I get it in there?
 
Reading my mind again, Kegan lets some of his magic branch off.
 
It swirls to the top of the urn and I feel him suck the air out of like he’s drinking from a straw.
 
I am impressed as hell.
 
I didn’t know he could do things like this.
 
What he has done is create a temporary vacuum, one that will pull the tornado and the curse inside of it.
 
All I need to do now is position the curse filled tornado over the urn.
 
I need to hurry because Kegan isn’t going to be able to keep the urn air free for very long.

Faster than I was moving it before, I position the tornado where it needs to be.
 
We all watch as the humid, curse filled air is sucked inside.
 
It happens so fast, my brain freezes for a second and I’m not prepared for the next step.
 

Good thing Adriel is.
 
She rushes to the urn and places the lid back on it.
 
“Seal it now!”

Shaking my head to clear my senses, I concentrate on the silver urn and use my magic to heat the silver until it grows pliable, almost melting.
 
I need to be careful that I don’t melt the whole thing away.
 
When I’m done and the silver begins to cool, an airtight seal is created at the top of the urn.
 
Now I focus on the spout.
 
I use more magic here because I need to melt the silver until it folds together.
 
I take a deep, much needed, breath when that too is airtight.
 
Providing there aren’t any more holes in the urn, the curse cannot escape.
 
When it runs out of oxygen in there, it should die.
 
I say a silent thanks to my great great grandmother for buying the durable urn.

“Nixie, you still with us?”

“Barely,” she says from the far wall.

Searching the room with his eyes, Grandpa asks, “Who said that?”
 
I decide that’s on a need to know basis and he doesn’t need to know.

“What the hell is going on in here?”
 
I move my eyes to the door where Mohana is open mouthed and Kallen has a death stare going as he takes in the destruction in the room.
 
He’s focusing that stare on the Witches.
 
“Did they attack you?”

Still catching up on the breaths I didn’t take while I was moving the curse, I manage to say, “No, someone else attacked all of us.
 
It’s no longer a case of who wants me dead, it’s who wants everyone in this house dead.”

Kallen frowns.
 
“How do you know it was not one of them?”
 
Them being the Witches, of course.

“Because they wouldn’t perform a breathless curse and then remain where it was going to attack.”
 
I give Mohana a pointed look.
 
“I suppose someone could find a way to get out of the room beforehand, though.”
 
She had volunteered to go with Kallen.
 
Was it to get out of here so she could let the curse free?
 
She takes a step back, ready to flee if she must.
 
She seems more scared than guilty.

Kallen shakes his head.
 
“I know what you are thinking and it was not her.
 
She has not used dark magic while with me.”
 

There’s something strange in his voice.
 
He said she didn’t use
dark
magic.
 
He didn’t say she used
no
magic.
 
I will be asking him about that later.

Coming into the room, Kallen asks, “Is everyone okay?”
 
His eyes dart to those who came with us, stopping at Alita’s still unconscious form.

Kegan answers his question.
 
“Other than Alita passing out from being so close to dark magic, we are.”

To me, Kallen says, “You really believe the curse was meant for the Witches, too?”

“There was no way to escape without making things worse,” Adriel says.
 
“If we had broken the window to try to flee, we would have made the curse stronger.”
 
She figured out it was based on the element of air, as well.

I scan the room, looking at the faces that had been full of fear moments ago.
 
Most of them are sporting angry looks now.
 
“Do any of you know who could have done this?
 
Any suspicions at all?”

Gunnar’s teeth are almost melded together as he says, “No.”
 
He’s not being terse with me, he’s angry at whoever did this.

“How do you suggest we go about locating the guilty party?” I ask him.

He looks at Kallen.
 
“You said you could sense someone’s magical residue.
 
What about the curse?”

I answer for him.
 
“It was too faint to tell.”

Kallen’s brows draw together.
 
“A curse so strong did not have a discernible magical signature?”

Kegan shrugs.
 
“No.”

“It is true,” Tana says and Adriel nods in agreement.

“How could
that happen?” I ask them.

“If the curse was twisted inside of a bottle, that would lessen the signature and also make it possible for someone else to release it,” Tana explains.

“Someone non-magical?”
I ask.

She nods.
 
“Yes.”

Our list of suspects has just grown exponentially.
 
Turning to my grandfather, I ask, “Have you had any disgruntled employees or pissed off any other Humans?”

He shakes his head.
 
“No.
 
As far as I know, the staff is happy here.
 
As for Humans, I don’t do much business with them.
 
The only
Human
on staff is a driver, and he is married to a Witch.
 
He would not want to see us dead.”

He must mean the driver we had earlier.
 
“What about his wife, is she ambitious?”

“Yes, I am but I am not suicidal.
 
Nor do I believe my husband wants to kill me.”
 
This comes from Glinda.

With no delicacy whatsoever, I say, “Your husband
works
here?”

Glinda nods, not at all uncomfortable with her husband’s choice of jobs.
 
A small smile touches her lips.
 
“He refused to live here without earning his keep.”
 
She’s proud of him for that and she seems very much in love.
 
I doubt her husband would try to kill a woman who adores him so.
 
He also didn’t seem like the type to commit multiple homicides.

In her grizzly voice, Sylar says, “What are we going to do?
 
We can’t go to bed for fear another curse will be let loose.”