Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws (4 page)

“Yeah, so it would seem.” Rae adjusted her microphone.

Rush cocked his head, his voice taunting. “So, which are we doing today, Elle, loving or hating? It changes so quickly that I can hardly keep up.”

The nerve! The hair on Elle’s neck stood on ends. “Are we really doing this now?”

“No, you’re not!” Rae said, eyeing them both. “Not here! Not now!” She ran a hand through her short hair. “You two love birds can work things out on your own time.” She gave Rush a pointed look. “We’ve spent enough time waiting for you as it is. It’s time to get down to business. We need to rehearse to get ready for the gig.”

Gig? This was the first Elle had heard about a gig. Then again, she’d been so focused on other matters—
Rush
—that it could’ve slipped her attention.

“Rush’s mom has promised us a gig at the nightclub where she sings.” She looked at Rush. “When is it?”

“A week from this Thursday.”

“Awesome!” Jack began pinging the cymbals.

“Stop it!” Rae growled. “We’re trying to talk here!”

He stuck out his tongue. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, Red.” He caught hold of the cymbal to make the noise stop.

“We’ll only get paid $85.00 for the night, but it’s a start,” Rush said.

“What songs are we playing?” It had taken a superhuman effort for Elle to play the songs for the Castle High Formal. She didn’t know if she could learn anything new in a week and a half.

“We’ll be playing the same songs we did for the formal,” Rae said.

“Good.” That was a relief! Elle realized she’d relaxed too soon when Rae continued.

“But we will need to add a couple of songs, so that our performance will last long enough.”

Elle groaned. “Well, that’s just great!”

Jack gave her a sly smile. “I’m sure Rush won’t mind helping you learn them.”

Elle’s eyes went wide, and she was about to protest until she saw the dark look that Rush gave Jack. Her heart dropped, and she felt the heat of humiliation.

Jack threw his arms in the air. “What?” He pointed a drumstick in Elle’s direction. “She needs your help, man.”

Rush scowled. “Fine, I’ll help her.”

“No! You won’t help me!” Elle slung her head back, causing her hair to go flying. “I wouldn’t accept your help if my life depended on it!”

His jaw went hard, and she could see the veil falling over his eyes. “Well, that settles that.” The words were daggers, hedging the distance between them.

Elle realized then that it was truly over. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she pushed them back. She’d shed far too many tears over Rush Porter as it was. A part of her split off in that moment, growing hard. She looked at Rae. “Well, are we gonna practice or not?”

Rae gave her a grim smile. “We’re gonna practice. Let’s get to it.”

T
he moonlight cast
soft shadows across Elle’s somber face, her long hair blowing gently in the wind. She was sitting on the roof, hugging her knees to her chest. Rush had been standing in the dark by the window, watching her for the past half hour. Why was it so hard for him to get her out of his system? On the surface, he’d acted tough and disinterested, but the truth was that she was ripping his heart to pieces, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. If Lynessa hadn’t been at his house the day Elle stopped by and
shared her feelings
, he would’ve broken down and swept her up in his arms. She’d seemed so sincere, and he wanted to believe her, but how could he trust her? How could he open up his heart, only to have it tromped on again? He clenched his fist, knowing that he couldn’t go there. She was his poison, and she would destroy him if he let her. The last straw had been seeing Edward and Elle kissing in the hallway the night of the performance at the Castle High Formal. The thoughts of the two of them together turned his stomach. Ever since he’d moved to Tower Heights, he’d felt this incredible pull to Elle. It was as if they’d known each other before—loved each other a thousand lifetimes. But a relationship required two committed people, and he wasn’t about to open himself up again to Elle—not when the threat of Edward was looming over them. He really couldn’t figure out what hold Edward had over Elle, but there was something there—something imperceptible yet real nevertheless. She was so close. The temptation to go out on the roof and be with her was so intense that he finally had to close the blinds and tear himself away from the window. He put in his earphones and tried to distract himself by listening to music. Then his phone buzzed. He looked down and realized that he had a text from Lynessa. She was asking when she could see him again. He’d intentionally kept things casual with her. They’d gone out a couple of times, but there was no substance there. She was a needed distraction to take his mind off Elle. Lynessa was beautiful and manipulative, but at least he was unaffected by her. It was refreshing to know that for once, he controlled the relationship. He didn’t respond to her text. There was no hurry. He could talk to her tomorrow at school. He propped his arms behind his head and allowed himself to get lost in the rhythm of the music.

A
s Rushton
stealthily made his way along the path that lead to his mother’s house, a haze of clouds cloaked the moon and cast ominous shadows across the road, matching his dark mood. It had been one day since Cinderella had thrown the glass slipper at his head and fled the ball. To make matters worse, Edward kept mulling over the incident, wondering what he did to cause it. He pled with Rushton to help him win her back. The whole thing was absurd! Because Edward had been so distraught, he’d not been able to leave the castle before now. Cinderella’s accusations about his mother kept ringing in his ears. It was hard to fathom that his mother had persuaded Cinderella to get engaged to Edward—furthermore, that she’d asked Cinderella to go to the marketplace on her errand.

He forced himself to go methodically through all of the events that had transpired, hoping to find a clue as to what really happened. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he’d convinced his mother to secure a lady in waiting position for Cinderella, so that he could be near her, and then in a cruel twist of fate, she’d caught Edward’s eye on the eve of the tournament. Not knowing how else to stop Edward’s infatuation with Cinderella, he’d taken him to see the Sorceress Griselda in the hope that Griselda could foretell of Edward’s true love and steer him away from Cinderella. Griselda told Edward that he would rescue a damsel in distress in the marketplace on a given day and that damsel would turn out to be his true love. Despite all of Rushton’s efforts to ensure that Edward found another damsel to replace Cinderella, she showed up at the marketplace, at the very moment Griselda foretold, and Edward ended up rescuing her and whisking her away to the castle. Then, Rushton got called on a suicide mission to protect the king’s road from cutthroat bandits. His mother, Wisteria, gave him the task of strengthening the shield surrounding the kingdom—a shield, which she and King Aalexander constructed through magic. Before Rushton could complete the task, the dragon attacked and killed all of the king’s men except for him. He did not have a clear recollection of what happened next—only flashes of horrifying memories that were too ghastly to unearth. He shivered, not allowing his mind to go any further down that path. Instead, he focused on what happened afterwards. He found himself lying in a gutter beside the road where he was forced to beg for food as he made his way on foot back to the castle. Upon his return, he discovered that everyone had thought him dead and that Cinderella had gotten engaged to Edward. He and Cinderella argued at the ball, and in a fit of anger, she took off her glass slipper, threw it at his head, and fled.

Had his mother really asked Cinderella to go to the marketplace on her behalf? Cinderella had sounded so certain, and what reason could she have for lying? If his mother did send her to the marketplace then the fates must be against him. Of all the days to send her, why that one? Then another thought occurred to him, a terrible thought that wrenched his gut. What if his mother knew about Griselda’s prediction? Even as he asked the question, he knew intuitively that it was a distinct possibility. His mother had longtime ties to Griselda, and she’d never approved of Cinderella. Had she sent her to the marketplace to throw her into Edward’s arms? Surely not! He knew his mother was stubborn, but was she capable of such treachery? And why? She had never approved of Cinderella, but it wasn’t as if she hated her. None of it made sense. There had to be another explanation.

His thoughts went to the dragon. Why had the dragon killed all of the king’s men and left him alive? And why couldn’t he remember all that had happened to him during the time when he was supposedly dead? He shuddered. Perhaps it was a mercy that he could not recall it all. The flashes that surfaced filled him with an unspeakable terror.

As he approached his mother’s home, he was relieved to see that it was dark, letting him know that Wisteria was not there. For as long as he could remember, she always kept a lantern burning in the window. She hated the dark more than anyone he knew.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find, but he needed to be alone to conduct the search. He first looked through all of the shelves in the main room. His mother had so many bottles of potions and other strange items that were foreign to him. Even if she had left some clue, it was doubtful he would find it here. Next, he made his way to the room where she slept. As opposed to the front room where there were hundreds of bottles stacked on shelves, his mother’s room was sparse. There was a single blanket on her bed that was stuffed with straw, a round rug, a chair, and table that had a quill and bottle of ink atop it. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a large wooden trunk where his mother kept blankets and extra clothes. He began his search there. As he got to the bottom, he felt a box. He pulled it out to examine it and frowned.
A strange place to put a box.
He opened the lid and let out a groan. His eyes were seeing it, but he didn’t want to believe it. With a sinking heart, he lifted the pouch out of the box. It was stained with blood—his blood. He’d had this pouch with him the night the dragon attacked. He looked inside, dreading what he would find. Sure enough, it was there—the stone that his mother had given him. The truth pelted over him like a thousand arrows tearing into his flesh. There was only one way his mother could’ve gotten a hold of this stone. She was connected to the dragon attack. Beads of sweat broke out across his brow as a chill went through him. Cinderella was right! His mother had intentionally destroyed his life!

The world started to spin as he staggered to his mother’s bed. A tunnel of black encircled him, and then he heard movement. He saw Wisteria standing in the doorway, watching him. There was a look of shock on her face.

“Why?” he croaked, rage causing tears to form in his eyes. “Mother, what have you done?”

She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes momentarily before removing the scarlet cape from her head. She went to his side. “Oh, my son!” she uttered, touching his shoulder.

“Do not touch me!” he yelled, his eyes blazing.

Wisteria put a shaky hand to her forehead and sat down in the nearby chair. She began clenching and unclenching her hands. “My dearest, Rushton, I know this looks bad, but you must listen to me.”

“Cinderella was right! She told me that you sent her to the marketplace … convinced her to get engaged to Edward. I did not want to believe her because those accusations are so terrible.” He held up the pouch, hurt radiating from his eyes. “But to think that my own mother allowed me to get taken by the dragon—a dragon that killed an entire company of men! Good men! Men with families!”

“Rushton, I prithee, listen to me! I did not realize that Griselda was going to kill those men! I never would have allowed it if I had known.”

He shook his head. “Allowed it? You allowed your own son to get taken by the dragon!” His jaw trembled with fury. “I have dreams of the dragon, Mother—dark dreams that are too ghastly to speak of.” His voice went hoarse as a tormented look settled into his eyes. “I feel a burning fire so intense that it incinerates everything in its path. Sharp talons that rip men to pieces, and a screeching so hideous that I wake up with a silent scream in my throat, drenched in sweat, the pain so terrible that I can hardly breathe.”

“I had no idea,” she said quietly.

He gave her a hard look. “And if that weren’t terrible enough. You have taken away the one I love the most—Cinderella.” His face crumbled. “Why?”

Her eyes flashed. “She will destroy thee. You love her too much! ‘Tis unwise to give that much control to another person.”

“Like you did to King Aalexander?”

“Aye!” A haunted look came over her.

“Mother, thou art a bitter woman! Thy hatred has diseased thy mind and cankered thy soul! Cinderella is not evil! Thy bitterness has destroyed my life!”

“Nay, I have saved thee, Rushton. I have saved thee from a fate worse than death.” She put a balled fist to her chest. “No one should have to suffer as I.”

He grunted in disgust. “Always the martyr. I am sorry for thy troubles, Mother, but I am not King Aalexander, and Cinderella is not you!”

“I know you are hurting, my son, but this will pass. One day you will thank me for what I have done.”

“I think not!” he said hotly. He gave her a scornful smirk. “I hate you for what you have done!”

She rocked back, her eyes burning. “Do not speak things you do not mean.”

He leaned forward, his jaw tightening. “I meant every word!”

Tears formed in her eyes, but she jutted her chin out defiantly. “I did what was best for thee. I will hold to that.”

“Then I suppose that is all there is to say.” He stood, and as he moved to walk past her, she grabbed his cloak.

“Do not leave like this, I prithee. I love you, Son. Everything I did, I did for thy benefit.”

He thrust the pouch at her and then jerked his cloak out of her grasp. “Listen well, Mother,” he seethed. “As long as I live, I will never forgive you for that which you have done.”

L
ong after Rushton left
, Wisteria sat in the chair, staring into the empty space. Admittedly, she had made a few mistakes—the largest mistake being not hiding the pouch in a more secure place. Rushton was understandably angry, but that would pass. His heart would heal, and he would thank her someday. From the moment he was born, Wisteria had felt a fierce need to protect her son. She wanted to protect him from all of the hurt and turmoil she had experienced at Aalexander’s hand. Yea, she would spend the rest of her life protecting him—even if that meant protecting him from himself. She sighed deeply and stood, feeling weary and spent. The pouch slipped from her lap, and she caught it, but not before the stone tumbled out and fell to the floor. She bent over and picked it up, holding it in the palm of her hand. The bloodstone had betrayed her in the end. Perhaps that is why Griselda had given it back to her. Perhaps she had known that Rushton would come looking for it.

To be such an ordinary looking stone, it was extraordinarily powerful. It was forged from the most powerful force imaginable—true love. A love that she once shared with Aalexander. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she clutched the stone in her hand. “Oh, Aalexander,” she breathed, “how did we let things get this far out of control?” She muttered the incantation that would cause the stone to glow blood red. While Rushton needed to be at the stone face in order to make the stone work, she—the inventor—could summon its power at will. Not only did the stone wield great power, but it also contained remembrances of the love she and Aalexander once shared. She vowed that she would never resurrect those memories again, but in this moment, she craved the warm comfort of how true love had felt—even if it were only a memory. The stone remained cold in her palm. She clutched it tighter and repeated the incantation. Nothing. She opened her palm and inspected the stone. A shiver of fear ran down her spine. This stone was a fake! Griselda had kept the real bloodstone. Griselda was toying with her. The question was—
why
?

E
lle felt
Huntsden’s eyes on her as she walked down the hall to her locker. When she scowled, he laughed softly and made a show of brazenly looking her up and down. She hurried past him, feeling like a cornered rabbit. It irked her that the punk took such great delight in tormenting her. She was relieved to see Edward standing at the locker.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey.” A feeling of warmth settled over her. After the fiasco with Rush, it felt good to be appreciated for once.

He gave her a tentative look. “So, are we on for tonight?”

“Tonight?” She searched her brain, trying to remember what he was talking about. “Um, what’s going on tonight?”