Salem's Revenge Complete Boxed Set (76 page)

“Your sisters and their allies killed twelve of my people,” he says.

“I’m sorry for that,” she says, returning to her knitting. “But they weren’t my sisters or my allies. Well, one was a first cousin but the other wasn’t even distantly related. She was from Kentucky, or ’Tucky as she liked to say. She wasn’t a big fan of humans, as you might’ve already guessed. Something about them bullying her as a kid, or some such nonsense. I tried to tell her that magic-born are just as cruel as humans, but that didn’t deter her anger. That lady was a troubled soul if I ever saw one. We can only hope that no Medium ever tries to bring
her
spirit back—God help us all!”

I’m fighting off laughter, and I can tell Mr. Jackson is too. Either this old woman is a damn good actress or she was really being forced into helping the Shifters. “Will you help us?” I ask.

She eyes me with interest, and I force myself to hold her stare. “My name’s Mags. You seem like a good boy,” she says. “You’re a Resistor, aren’t you? Rhett Carter, right?”

My eyebrows go up. “Yes. I am.”

She nods. “The other Resistor, the girl, is confused.”

I remember the strong, dark girl who protected Flora from Laney’s magic bullets. “You’ve met her?” This woman is full of surprises.

“Once,” she says. “She is alive but not living. The turmoil inside her is eating her alive, and all she wants is for everyone else to feel the pain she feels.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Why not,” she says. “Emotions are a powerful force for both good and evil. They give us life and they take it away. Without them life’s not worth living, but with them life is sometimes too hard.”

Her words ring all too true for my own life. I wait for her to continue.

“I’ll join you, Rhett Carter, so long as this handsome devil”—Mr. Jackson squirms when she pats his arm—“doesn’t stick any more pointy objects at my throat.”

“Agreed,” I say. “Right, handsome?”

Mr. Jackson gives me a disdainful look and strides from the room. “Agreed,” he calls from halfway down the hall.

Mags points out the smudged window. “Who’s she?” she asks.

I follow her gaze to the house across the street where a solitary form sparkles red against the dying daylight. Her face is a mask of anger and disgust as she watches the Necros and Claires tend to the dead and injured, respectively.

Angelique turns her back and walks briskly into the shadows.

~~~

All I want to do is see Laney when we arrive back in Alliance. Well, see her and then sleep for about sixteen hours straight.

It’s completely dark when I slip into our tent, my body already warming at the thought of her in my arms.

The tent is cold and empty. No Laney. No Hex.

Maybe, as she suggested last night, she managed to trade her morning perimeter shift for an all-nighter. Maybe Hex is with her. They’re probably both at the perimeter right now, having snoozed the day away in preparation for a sleepless night.

I should go look for them, make sure they’re okay, but first I need a quick powernap. Fifteen or thirty minutes should do the trick.

When my head hits the pillow it feels like I’m on a cloud, my head fuzzy and scattered, my thoughts turning to mush. A quick nap, I think again, as sleep sucks me under.

Hex

G
rogg is evil. Although Hex tried all his tricks—turning into a lion, flying, wagging his tail furiously—the little mud devil couldn’t be stopped. He slipped and squirmed and raced away, much faster than Hex had ever seen him move.

He chased him until it got dark and the moon rose and the stars made Hex want to bark at the sky. But he didn’t bark. He kept running, trying to pin down Grogg, who he knew was up to no good. For a while the pursuit stayed around the house, but eventually Grogg took off into the woods. Hex was torn between staying with Laney and following his once-friend-now-enemy.

Laney was safe with Martin Carter and Bil, and Grogg needed to be stopped before he got into trouble. So Hex chose to pursue Grogg. Stealth was important, so he turned invisible. His bladder felt full but he didn’t have time to stop to empty it, so he simply made the fullness go away. When Grogg climbed over structures in their path, Hex passed right through them, waiting patiently for the mud critter to meet him on the other side. He didn’t know how he did any of what he did, only that he did what he needed to do when he needed to do it.

Now, when they emerge onto a forlorn and deserted street, Hex can immediately smell him. He can still smell Grogg’s beautifully foul stink, but it’s not only Grogg. The brown-skinned Two-Legger, Bil Nez, too. But it isn’t the good scent. It’s the one that means Bil is not himself. The one that means the real Bil has gone somewhere
other
. Although that troubles Hex, it doesn’t trouble him nearly as much as seeing Grogg smash into Bil’s legs, knocking him over. Hex is about to rush after the little mud monster, when he sees her. Laney, racing down the street, presumably to check to see if Bil is okay.

But she isn’t alone, her smell curling around an even stronger odor.

The panther is behind her, moving silently on padded feet, her strong, shadowy form loping with athletic strides.

The mix of scents is definitely sniffable to Hex, but he’s too shocked to enjoy them. Because Grogg is working with Flora, the Four-Legger. She’s the Master he spoke of so reverently.

And when she knocks Laney over from behind, it’s all Hex can do to remain invisible.

Flora stands on Laney’s fallen form, her nose in the air, sniffing the breeze.

Hex freezes, his tail tucking between his legs. She can smell him. Of course she can. She may have once been a Two-Legger, but she’s not anymore, giving her all the benefits of a Four-Legger. So Hex gets rid of his scent, until he smells like nothing at all. Invisible and odorless, it’s as if he doesn’t exist. Does he exist? he wonders. Could he make himself disappear completely?

Flora takes one final whiff, and then, seemingly satisfied that they’re alone, pads up to Grogg, who’s standing as still as a tree stump. Hex’s tail begins to wag again, and he knows he still exists.

And as long as he’s around, no one will hurt Laney again. He starts toward the panther, prepared to defend Laney to the death if necessary, but stops when he sees them:

Dozens of dark shapes, moving toward Flora. Bears, gorillas, cheetahs, an enormous anaconda that stretches the entire length of the line of animals, several rams, a mongoose…and many other animals Hex can’t identify. They seem to move with a singular purpose, united in their evil designs.

Hex knows he can do a lot of things, but there are too many enemies. Far too many. He can’t fight them all. Not now. Not like this.

As an enormous winged creature with knife-like talons swoops overhead, Hex lies in wait. As he’s done before, he’ll be patient. He’ll bide his time, and when the moment is ripe, he’ll save his Two-Legged friends.

Laney

I
awake to stones being smashed against my skull.

My eyes flash open and I try to raise an arm to cover my head, but I can’t. And anyway, no one’s smashing anything against my head, even though it feels that way. I groan, squinting against the pain throbbing behind my eyes. I can’t move my arms or legs—my head either. Something is putting pressure on my limbs and forehead, wrapped tightly around me, securing my body to something hard and rough, its sharp edges stabbing my skin through my clothes.

Although it hurts, I force my eyes open wider, trying to see better in the murky darkness. There’s a thin outline of sunlight stretching toward me, from somewhere in the distance. Around the light is the sheen of black, glassy walls, which arch unevenly overhead, meeting in the middle in an obsidian ceiling, from which stalactites protrude like black wintry icicles. Everything is as smooth as crystal, shiny and reflective, like the rock has been superheated and stretched thin.

In my peripheral vision, I can just make out Bil Nez’s profile. He’s strapped to a massive stalagmite with glowing green bands. Although I can’t look up or down, I can barely catch a hint of the same green glow from the bands that tether me in a similar fashion. Our bonds are laced with some kind of magic, but I presume they’re strong enough on their own to hold us; otherwise Bil could just use his ability to Resist to break free.

Not a good start to the day. I’m trapped in a cave with a pounding headache with the damn fool who got us here in the first place.

A sleek, black shadow flashes through my memory as I remember what happened. The panther. Flora. The leader of the Shifters. And Grogg, that dirty little bastard.

This is bad. Very bad. Flora hates Rhett, but I suspect she hates me even more. After all, I’m the mouthy one. If it wasn’t for the bounty the Reaper had put on my head, she likely would’ve killed me the last time she captured us. And by kill, I mean eat. And by eat, I mean she’d enjoy it, starting with my toes and working her way up, savoring every bite of my flesh, every crunch of my bones.

My body shivers and I choke out a ragged scream. I’m freaking myself out even before Flora has a chance to stop by and do that for me. Breathe. Breathe. You’re still alive. Rhett will find you. Rhett will save you. I whisper those eleven words again and again until my heart rate returns to relative normal.

“Life is but a random echo,” Bil Nez says. Apparently I woke him up when I was trying to calm myself down.

“Thanks for that,” I say, desperately wishing Normal Bil was back. I might not like Normal Bil that much, but compared to Crazy Bil, Normal Bil feels like an old friend.

He ignores my sarcasm. “Life reverberates off the walls of a cave, searching for a way out, but it always fades away.”

“You should write these things down and publish a coffee table book,” I say.

“Why can’t I move my arms?” Bil says.

“Because you’re a freaking idiot,” I say.

“You disgust me,” he says.

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” I say, biting down hard on my anger. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Although the anger helps to chase away my fear, it’s not helping my ability to think. I sigh. “Look, Bil, I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight. We have to get out of here.”

“There’s no such thing as a fight,” he says. “There’s no such thing as here.”

Oh God I want to strangle him. If only I could move my arms.

“Do you remember what happened?” I ask him.

“Nothing happened,” he says. “Things just are.”

I puff my cheeks up with air and wonder what I did to deserve a fate such as this. I’d almost rather have my toes nibbled off one by one by a sadistic shape-shifting panther than have to attempt a conversation with Bil Nez when he’s in the midst of a psychotic break.

If only he hadn’t followed me. If only he hadn’t overheard my discussion with Martin Carter.
Martin Carter!
I remember frantically. He never told me the other way to remove his curse. Not that it matters, I think bitterly. I won’t have the chance to tell Rhett anyway. When we were captured by Flora it secured Martin Carter’s fate.

And with daylight streaming into the cave it means we only have two days before the Shifters attack Alliance, assuming I’ve only been unconscious for a few hours and not longer. Time feels like a short fuse, burning steadily toward a nuclear warhead set to “Big Freaking Boom.”

I hear a yawn and my gaze shifts toward the sound. Glowing yellow eyes appear, floating in the gloom. “Good morning,” Flora says, her screechy voice instantly sending an icy deluge through my veins.

“What do you want, freak?” I say, pushing as much anger and confidence into my voice as I can. I will not show her my fear, no matter what she does.

“Shut it, or I will add a strap to yowr nasty little mouth,” she says, her previously invisible black fur shimmering silver as it touches the thin band of sunlight.

I know I’ll have to temper my insults if we’re going to survive this. Of course, that thought sits amidst a dozen snarky comebacks I’d rather focus on. But I manage to remain silent, waiting for her to make the next move.

“Rhett Carter will come for yow,” she says.

“Only if I’m still in one piece,” I say.

“No,” she says, prowling closer, her whiskers dancing in the growing light. “Only if yow’re still alive.” She raises her lip to reveal a single, deadly fang. As she twists around to pace back in the other direction, her tail whips up, lashing me across the face. She continues: “There are plenty of parts yow could be missing and he’d still come. Toes, fingers, maybe even an ear. Hmm, I’d like to sample yow’re nose, but then yow might be too ugly for him to want to save.”

I try to ignore her threats, but it’s hard when she so close, purring, rubbing her body up against me. I truly hope Rhett doesn’t try to find me. My fate is my own, and if I’m going to live I’ll have to find a way out of this situation on my own. I’m glad I snuck off without telling him where I was going. He can’t possibly know where I am. Hell, I don’t even know where I am now. At least the fact that Flora is using me as bait means he survived yesterday’s mission.

“I guess Rhett and the witch hunters beat the crap out of
yowr
Shifters yesterday,” I say, impersonating her awful, yowling voice.

With unnatural speed, she springs up, her claws slashing my shoulders, her fangs bared wickedly close to my face. Despite my attempt to hide my fear, I know I would flinch back if I had anywhere to go. As it is, the back of my head grinds up against impenetrable stone, prickling my scalp.

Her long rough tongue extends between her fangs, raking from my chin to my forehead, scraping my skin like sandpaper. I force myself to breathe, to not blink. To say, “I thought I ordered the avocado mask, but I’ll take the exfoliation treatment, too, if it’s free.”

She makes a noise that’s something between a laugh and a hiss, and pulls away. “Yowr commitment to bravery is commendable but foolish,” she says. “Yowr flesh is delicious. Before the day is done, I will dine on it.”

It’s not the fact that she’s once more threatened to treat me like the main course at a five star restaurant that makes my heart stop. It’s the proposed timeline. “But you gave us three days to surrender,” I say.

“Yowr point?” she says, slinking away.

“Only one day has passed. Yow have to give Rhett two more days to meet your demands.”

“Do I?”

I curse at my own stupidity. Of course she wouldn’t honor her own terms. In fact, it makes much more sense that she wouldn’t. With everyone planning for an attack in two days, attacking a day early will give them the advantage. Especially if she can draw Rhett away from Alliance on an impossible mission to rescue me. With Rhett and Bil added to her growing collection of Resistors, the humans, even with their magic-born allies, will be powerless to stop her. And that’s assuming the magic-born and humans don’t kill each other without Rhett there to keep the peace.

The creepy bitch is smart, I have to give her that.

Her fur seems to turn white when she enters the light, until it’s as if she disappears into the sunbeam itself.

~~~

I hate that freaking feline. I’ve never held any animosity toward animals until I met Flora. Now I want to rip her stinking guts out, add them to a curry, and then feed them back to her as she takes her last gasping breath.

Ugh. I’ve got a pretty disturbing imagination when I’m angry.

Bil Nez isn’t helping matters. “We are fodder for the cannons of the universe,” he says.

“I’m hungry, too,” I agree.

“Hunger isn’t real.”

Gosh, I almost preferred the angry, violent version of Insane Bil. Now he sounds more like a stoned philosopher. “How about thirst? My tongue has been sticking to the roof of my mouth for an hour now.”

Apparently he doesn’t have an opinion on thirst yet, because he stays silent.

There’s a noise from somewhere behind us, the scuff of footfalls. I didn’t even realize there was anything behind us. “Who goes there?” Bil Nez asks helpfully.

“I’ve brought breakfast,” a tender voice mewls. The voice sounds young and timid.

“Thank the good Lord,” I say, my stomach growling.

A girl with long red hair and a freckle-splashed face comes into view between us, carrying a plank of wood. There’s a tin bowl resting in the center, filled with something that I can’t make out. Whatever it is, there’s steam rising from it in thin curls.

“Are you…human?” I ask. She doesn’t look more than twelve. Shifters use the blood of children for their spells, so if she’s human she should be dead, bled out in the great name of magical progress.

She looks on the verge of tears. “Yes,” she says, her voice no more than a whisper.

“How are you alive?” I ask, realizing how terrible a question it is only after I’ve asked it.

She bursts into tears, placing the tray on the floor so she can hide her face in her hands. There’s something strange about her fingers. I stare at them, trying to understand what I’m seeing—or rather, what I’m
not
seeing. When my brain catches up to my eyes, a wave of revulsion crumbles over the shallows in my stomach. She only has two fingers and a thumb on each hand. The missing digits are nothing more than stumps, their tips wrapped in haphazard bloodstained bandages. This girl wasn’t born like this, nor was it a childhood accident. Her fingers were removed recently. Bitten off.

“I’m sorry,” I say, backtracking quickly, trying not to stare at her injuries. “I’m Laney. This is Bil. Say hi, Bil.”

“Greetings from the fictitious world of folly and suff—”

“Thank you, Bil, that’s great,” I interject, before he can really scare her.

The girl rapidly wipes the tears from her cheeks. “Shoot shoot shoot,” she says. “I can’t let her catch me crying again. Master said she would do things to me. Bad things.”

“Who’s Master?” I ask, already knowing—and dreading—the answer.

“The big cat,” she says. “The black one with the sharp teeth. She controls everything. She asked me to feed you.”

“You’ll need to release our hands and heads before we can eat,” I point out.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know how. I have to feed you myself. She said to do it like a mama feeding a baby.”

Gah. “What’s your name?” I ask.

“Chloe.”

“That’s a pretty name. Can you tell me anything about what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“What is this place?” I prod.

“A big cave,” she says. “Well, more like a cavern, except the walls are really glossy.” She lowers her voice. “There are animals everywhere. They look like they want to eat me. They only don’t because I keep my head down and do what I’m told. There are others like me, but most of them don’t make it.”

“The animals are witches and warlocks,” I say.

“I know,” she says.

“They want your blood because you’re a child.”

“I’m ten,” she says, as if that means she’s no longer a child. At least her eyes are dry and there’s a stubborn tilt to her chin that wasn’t there before. Maybe she’ll be able to help us after all. “They take some of my blood every day. They say if I do anything bad they’ll take all of it. I believe them, because once I tried to escape and they took some of my fingers.” She holds up her hands. Not
some
of your fingers—
four
of your fingers, I think in horror. “Master made me watch her eat them. They crunched like celery and she told me how good they tasted. She wouldn’t stop eating them until I stopped screaming, which took a while.”

Flora will suffer, I promise myself. While gaping at the tiny arms of this brave little girl, I notice that it’s not only her hands that are damaged. Fierce red spots dot the inside of her forearms and in the crook of her elbows.
They take some of my blood every day
, she’d said. I swallow hard, trying to focus on a plan.

I’m too hungry to think. “What did you bring for us?” I ask.

“Hunger isn’t—” Bil Nez starts to say, but I cut him off.