Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2) (13 page)

Donovan was right…they’re planning to keep us here longer than what we expected. I have to blend in a bit better; I can’t let my emotions and confusion take over me. I can’t let Christian play with my mind anymore. I need to block him out. I press my broomstick harder against his neck, but his hand shoots up, pushing my hand away. He grabs me in closer, because he knows my balance up here isn't as good.

“Do you think that treehouse burned itself?” He raises his eyebrows, staring me down. “Why would I want to hurt you? Out of all the witches alive, we need you to solve everything.”

Why would they need me? I'm nothing but a rookie witch, trying to free my fellow witch from their elf jail and go home.

“Why does she need me, Christian?”

“The same reason she needs me.” He leaps off our branch down below to the dozen others beneath us.

“Hey! I'm not finished with you. Don't you walk away from me.”

“By all means, follow me.”

I leap down after him but stumble back, because I didn't really want to leap. I end up tripping off the branch, falling down just how I predicted. He looks up, his eyes wide, shocked that I'm falling. He leaps in to break my fall, dirt and foliage scattering up in the air. He coughs, pushing me aside.

“Really? You actually jumped.”

I pull on his collar to help me up. He chokes, and his shirt rips a little from the tug. “This was my favorite shirt!” He wipes off the dirt and flicks my hand away from him.

I stand up. “Talk,” I say, pulling out my broomstick.

“Listen, ever since your arrival here, I knew something was up. Every time a witch enters Ellevil, it always turns out badly.” He glances at a firefly flitting by. “So yes, I was curious if you guys would retaliate harshly.”

“What do you mean when witches enter here?”

“You and Donovan aren't the only witches alive.”

There is more of my kind? Well I kind of knew there was, the only other witch I've known to be alive is Eric, but he's the evil kind. My mom told me we were the only ones out there until I met up with Donovan.

“Back then, mystics and witches got along with each other, and then this whole mess with Ravamere and the Verel tainted our community and the trust got ruined. Your mother came and she met with someone who was affiliated with Ravamere.” Christian pulls a flower out of the ground. “The witches we thought were our friends killed our people.” He snaps the flower stem. “Which is why that treehouse means a lot to me,” he says, looking up. “It was my home. My father and I built the place. The reason why Terese needs you is to see if you can solve the mystery with the witches of Ravamaere.”

Who could Mom have been talking to?

He drops the flower and walks off in a direction that will lead us out of the forest.

I can't believe any of this. Donovan told me not to trust him no matter what, but there's a feeling of honesty coming from him. I can't explain; I know he's trying to be himself with me. There were more of my kind, but they ended up killing the people here? Now that didn't really make sense.

“You know about Ravamere?”

He chuckles. “Who doesn't?”

“I think I need to get there. I also think I know where a portal is that'll lead me there…”

Christian's eyes dart up. “You know how to get to Ravamere?”

“I didn't say that…I said I
think
I know.”

“Take me.”

“Whoa, why would you want to get to Rav? You know what happens there.”

“I'm aware, and I'm looking for answers, like you…don't you want them?”

“I think we both do.”

I continue to walk, and he follows. Then it hits me, he is too excited to talk about Ravamere. I stop. “Speaking of answers, do you know the rules of Faevil?” I ask.

Warren says that his portal only allowed purity in, nothing corrupt, and no witches. I wondered if Christian knew about this.

“Just witches weren't allowed in.”

“Anything else?”

He raises his eyebrows, and he knows I'm looking for a particular answer.

“I don't know what you're trying to do. I'm not asking you to trust me.”

“I don't. I'm wondering why you couldn't enter the portal. You're not a witch.”

“I didn't want to enter the portal. I've told you this.”

“Why waste time and create an illusion for him to see and not travel down yourself?”

“You don't know fairies like I do…they're tricksters. You would've been killed if it wasn't for me.” Christian slowly walks closer to me. “We're both glowing. It's getting pretty dark out here. Would you like me to lead you out of the woods?”

“No…not until you tell me why the hell you didn't enter Faevil?”

I also want to know why Miss Canary needs Christian and me to cooperate. I figure I'll confront her myself.

“We're connected somehow. I can feel your emotions, and I'm sure you can feel mine.”

“How'd you know?” I ask.

“By the way you tense,” he leans in, gripping my body, “when I do that.” He steps back, lowering his gaze to my lips. “Or when your heart beats a bit faster whenever I'm around. It's not that hard to read you.”

I hold onto my broomstick, stepping back against a tree. “That should've given you even more of a reason to jump into the entrance.” The leaves move with the wind; hearing them sing calms me down a little.

“Not really, because sometimes when I'm around you my emotions get confused. I didn't want to blow your cover as witch down there.”

I'm sure they knew I was one anyway; he should really fix up his stories.

“If you want to establish that freezing connection, we’re going to have to get a little closer.” He picks at a fern and then looks over at me. His markings glow in the dark, and his eyes flash their green color. “If that makes sense.”

“No it doesn't, Christian.” I don't know how I'm feeling. My thoughts aren't mine anymore. He's not in my head, but he has control over me and how I’m feeling toward him. I try to fight it. I don't give him any eye contact, but I'm slowly losing my self, each minute, each second.

“I believe we should kiss,” he whispers.

Don’t resist, kiss the elf
…the voices hiss.
Kiss the elf…

“What's stopping you?” I ask.

I don't know what I'm feeling; it’s like my emotions are clouded. All I want is for him to kiss me, right now, in the middle of the forest. His sweet elvish smell attracts me; his body tone is more lean and tall. If you asked me, I would say he's taller than Donovan, but of course Don would get upset and they would get in some kind of fight.

“I know you want it. It's not that hard.” He tempts me, leaning in. I reach for Christian's neck, connecting my lips against his cold, minty skin.

We made the connection.

Christian sucks on my lip; it's tender and sweet, controlling yet comforting. I try to release but I can't; these actions aren't mine; these thoughts are his. The anticipation of kissing him turns into a nightmare. I am in pain. My arm is burning. Our tattoos are glowing a bit too bright. The kiss is broken. I glance up at the elf in front of me.

His eyes are black.

Chapter 13

Teeth, pain, teeth, and more pain is what I’m feeling. Beady black eyes stare right through me. Our fingers are locked together; I can’t move my face, I’m frozen. Vibrations from the kiss wiggle all the way down to my arms. Green rays from Christian’s arm and mine light up magically between our stiffened bodies.

Christian doesn’t make a single sound, and I’m convinced he’s corrupt. I want to cry; my mind tries to resist the temptation, but I give in. Our mouths are still connected, and I’m becoming insane. His unblinking soulless black eyes glare down at me. The roots of my hair tingle. The dry stare from Christian’s eyes reflects my image. I glance down toward our feet; I want to move. My lips are stuck to this monstrous creature in front of me. I become angry all of a sudden. In his eyes, an emerald green reflection of myself glares back at me.

A mixture of emotions bundle up on top of each other inside me. I clench my fingers with Christian’s, and a blast of green light bursts between us. An impactful force blows around our bodies, separating us and unlocking our hold.

I’m thrown against a tree, and everything becomes dark.

***

“Do you think she’ll be all right?”

“What does this mean for our community?”

“How will she react?”

“This isn’t supposed to be real. Kill her before they find out.”

“It’s nothing but war waiting to happen.”

***

I smell fresh lilies and the woody scent from the floor beneath my bed. Muscles inside of me contract and thicken as they press against the insides of my skin.

A presence hovers above me, and I reach up, grabbing the wrist of the person. I lift myself up and flick them against the wall next to me. The person lands with a loud grunt. I leap out of bed, my eyes wide, placing my palm on the floor under me.

Everything is crystal clear.

The extreme smell from my surroundings overwhelms me.

“I guess she really is one of us,” Emily grunts from the floor.

One of them?

I shoot her a distressed glare, looking around at her elf friends, Miss Canary, and two older people around the age of the elf queen. My stance on the floor feels ninja-like, my right leg out to the side, my left knee crunched up against my chest.

“Eliza, calm down and we’ll explain what’s—”

“What does she mean I’m one of you?” I hiss. The window creaks behind me, and I swiftly leap toward the sound. It’s only the wind.

I figured since I may come off as a freak to them, everything in my body feels different. The way my bones react when I walk, how my veins pulse with blood, the way my saliva tastes, sweet and minty.

I need to act like I’m not as freaked out to at least get some answers. I have to remember I’m still acting to them, and…I direct my gaze at the woods.

Christian.

I feel a headache approaching from remembering the event. It’s not night out anymore. How did I get back to the castle?

All I know is that I don’t feel my witchy self; I can’t sense a mystic for the life of me. For some reason my instinct is clouded by my emotions. I kept thinking about grass…and wood and weird nature things. I want to run and bend myself over around the room with this magical energy surging inside of me. I’m sure these feelings and urges aren’t normal for a witch; we can’t possess magic.

I pull out my broomstick from my pocket and press it. Not a single vibration or freeze. Heat sears on my skin instead, and I drop the weapon in pain. What look like burn marks form on my palm. In two seconds or less, a light green color crystalizes the marks, causing them to heal and disappear. I glance up at the window in my room.

“Everyone leave,” I say.

“Right now, I don’t think we should test her,” someone whispers in the group.

“I wouldn’t play around me either,” I reply.

“Everyone leave,” Miss Canary says. Footsteps sound against the floor, then the door shuts. I clench my hands into fists.

“You’ll get used to it,” Miss Canary says.

“I want to know what’s going on.” I keep my focus on the forest in sight; it’s the only thing keeping me calm and not turning around to snap the queen’s neck. Miss Canary walks over to the window, stands still by my side, watching me closely.

“You were so determined to find out about your mother.” Miss Canary takes a deep breath. “The higher elves and I think you’re a cross between a witch and elf.”

My fingers are jittery and they are shaking from the nerves I’m feeling. The time I was in the library, and the little vision I had of my grandmother killing her husband—it’s all true. She was a myth, and she carried it over to my mother. It still doesn’t make any sense though. Wouldn’t Mom need to fool around with an elf to have me in the first place? Then it comes to me, the guy she was with back at home. Could this really be true? Miss Canary turns me around and I raise my hands up to her wrist, pushing her away from me.

“You’re a myth, and I’m sure you know of which kind.”

No wonder she wanted me to stay here in Ellevil; was Mom also an elf myth?

I’m trying to get all the missing pieces together, the tingling sensations, the tattoos, the flexibility, the tree climbing, and—Christian.

“Christian, where is he?” I ask. “How long have I been knocked out?”

“About two days. Christian went missing. We don’t know how you got back to the castle.”

“I have to find him.”

“Why is that?”

“I think he’s the reason it triggered the myth within.”

Miss Canary glides toward a flower patch in my room beside my bed. “That is impossible. Tell me, what exactly happened for you to think this way?”

“We…kissed. Stop acting like you didn’t know about me and Christian. You knew I’d follow Emily here and sent Christian out in the forest for Donovan and me. You sent Christian and me alone to run some stupid errand for you. He told me you were going to keep me here to find out about the witches of Ravamere.”

Miss Canary stiffens. The flower in her hands drops to the floor. “You two are connected…” Her eyes are now glowing green. “Anything that happens to you, he will know. How you are feeling, what makes you angry or sad. Christian will know. You two are meant to be together as elves.” She stands up, walking toward. She pulls me in closer to her, flashing her sharp elf teeth. “You’ve been betrothed.”

I pull her fingers back, releasing myself and pushing her from me.

“Your whore of a mother slept with a corrupt elf and came to me for help. She’s the witch who ruined everything and caused havoc in Ravamere. She screwed up the two balances of our world by sleeping with the elf.” Miss Canary adjusts her dress and looks up at me. “We had a deal. The elves of Ellevil own you. I promised her I’d watch out for you and keep you from corruption.”

She pulls out her special rose she gave to me when I was young. “I told you this rose was special. It seals the betrothal.” She snaps her fingers and the rose vanishes. “To
Christian
.”

Mom wouldn’t sleep with an elf just to sleep with one; she must have been manipulated by an elf, just how Christian manipulates me. That’s what they do. They’re mystics. The way we freeze when we come in contact, it explains everything how I feel around him. How he manipulates me so easily to do anything for him.

If I’m right, a betrothal is an arranged marriage, but in the mystical world it permanently binds two together, forcing you to eventually fall in love with the other. Jared said if a witch was to ever be betrothed to a mystic, they’d corrupt. He says I can corrupt faster than a regular witch. I now know why: it’s because I’m a myth. I know for sure Christian is corrupt by now, his eyes, the way he tricks and plays with my mind. No wonder he’s different than the rest of the elves here. They burned down his tree house because of what he was. He’s nothing but pure evil, and I’m starting to think Miss Canary is too.

“You are not to leave Ellevil,” she says.

I get up, racing to the door. Miss Canary glides out of the room before me, shutting the door and locking me inside. There’s a numbness that is freezing my eyes and my markings are glowing angrily. I sprint to the door, banging for her to let me out.

There is no answer, though I hear snickers from outside. I have to get to Donovan and let him know what’s going on. That’s only if he’s still alive down in their holding area. Turning around, I glance at the window and then at the ceiling; there’s no way for me to escape. I hear the tiniest sounds of dust landing on the floor.

Who were you talking to, Mom?

Lauren and Mellissa. I want to know what made them all mess around with forbidden rules of the witch culture, dealing with corruption, and talking with mystics in general. I walk over to the window, touching the glass. It doesn’t feel that hard to break. No one’s outside; they’re probably all hidden in the trees. I step back; there’s a loud creak from the floor. My broomstick glows on the ground. I know it’s heated, waiting to burn me. This is going to hurt.

Rushing over to the floor, I bend down and wrap my fingers around the handle. They sting and sizzle when I make contact. I have to hurry and bash the window before the pain is too much. Twirling back around, I smash the glass one time, but it doesn’t break. I grasp tightly to my broomstick, punching the glass once again, harder.

The window shatters, and I block the shards with the side of my right arm. The wind blows my hair back behind my shoulders. I feel the breeze and inhale all of the different scents. There is a sting in my eyes from the rushing wind, and I notice the jagged bark of the trees in front of me. Even though they’re far from the castle, I place my broomstick into my pocket as fast as I can. The green crystalized frost surfaces on my palms, healing their wounds with a burst of light green.

It isn’t a window you can open easily; it’s the type to just be in the room. I climb out of the square space, landing on the roof. The sky is blue and green and the grass is waving around, like there wasn’t a storm of snow yesterday. I step forward, but a piece of tile breaks off, causing me to slide down the roof. I cling onto the surface, my legs dangling over the end of the high rooftop.

I’m breathing slowly, maintaining my focus. There’s a balcony below me; maybe if I land on it, I can get to the holding from there without being spotted. I swoop my legs over the edge with ease, dropping down onto the balcony below. I look around to see if anyone has witnessed my escape attempt.

I twirl around to see if there is anyone inside this room; there isn’t, so I jab my elbow against the glass, breaking through. My skin heals immediately. I step back and then kick a large hole for me to break into the room. My nose flares and my ears twitch.

Definitely an elf’s room.

I walk toward the closet. I know I can’t use my broomstick for protection; it hurts too much. There’s a wooden toy dagger on the counter. Grabbing the toy, I hide it in one of my pockets and head for the closet door, opening it and finding a hooded long white jacket with gold lines around the fabric. I place it on, tucking the hood over my head, and walk out of the room, staring at a bunch of elves talking among each other. They look up at me. My markings are freezing, and their scent doesn’t bother me as much. Many of them walk away into their rooms; there’s one girl alone. I cover my face with the sides of my hood, acting like I’m hugging the girl with my arm around her shoulder. She looks up at me, her teeth baring into a snarl. I raise my toy up at her, holding it against her neck.

“Get me through these elves and you live.”

“You’re the witch everyone’s talking about, aren’t you?” she sneers.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, pressing my toy weapon against her skin harder. “Get me to the holding area.” There are elves watching us, whispering to each other. I know this is weird to them and they find it suspicious. If I’m caught out of my room, Miss Canary will send for me. I need to get to Donovan without unnecessary attention.

“And if I don’t?” she snaps. She darts her eyes from left to right, lifting her hands to grapple my neck. With a grunt I push her up against a wall. I stab my toy deep inside her chest, I hear her heart beat one last time, and she screams into her death. Her eyes burst a green light, ending with her body vanishing into thin air. About a dozen elves have witnessed her murder.

I twirl around and race down the hallway, hearing their hard footsteps behind me, shouting in anger that one of their family members has been killed. There’s an arrow approaching me from behind. I sidestep and it crashes into a wall in front of me. There’s a dark hallway down the narrow path, and I run into the darkness, my back against the wall. The elf markings on my left arm are freezing.

“Check upstairs, follow her scent,” someone says.

The group of elves run by my hiding place.

There’s one elf that wanders off from his group. He walks into the darkness, sniffing. I don’t wait. I leap out of hiding, wrapping my arms around his neck, cracking it. He falls to the ground, and so do I, gashing his chest and pressing deep against his heart. Green mist floats up between my eyes. It’s really coming to me that I’m one of them now. Well, half. I don’t know what Donovan’s going to think when I tell him this new information. I look up toward the main hallway. I know the staircase from there will take me down to Donovan. I walk swiftly down the hallway to the main entrance. There are so many here and it’s so easy to get lost. If you don’t pay attention you’ll lose yourself in this castle. Why aren’t there any lights in this hallway? The long white robe is sleeveless so my markings guide me out of the shadows. I’ve come to find them helpful at times like this. I’d rather learn to embrace them.