Spell Bound (2 page)

Elodie gave me a look that said there was no danger of that happening.

The sounds got louder, and I hoisted the sword higher.

Then, with a snarl, something large and furry leaped through the trees. I gave a little shriek, and even Elodie jumped back. Well, floated back.

For a moment, all three of us were frozen, me holding the sword like a baseball bat, Elodie hovering a few feet off the ground, the Were crouched in front of us. I had no idea if it was a boy or a girl werewolf, but I thought it was young. White froth dripped from its snout. Werewolves are kind of drooly.

It lowered its head, and I clutched the sword tighter, waiting for it to spring. But instead of leaping to rip my throat out, the werewolf made a low keening sound, almost like it was crying.

I looked in its eyes, which were disturbingly human. Yep, definitely tears. And fear. Lots of it. It was panting hard, and I got the feeling it had been running for a while.

Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe the Itineris didn’t suck as much as I’d thought. Something had scared this werewolf, and there were only a few things I could think of that could do
that
. Scary Irish Prodigium hunters? Way up on that list.

“Elodie—” I started to say, but before I got anything else out, she winked out like a bitchy firefly.

The werewolf and I were plunged into darkness. I cursed, and the werewolf made a growl that sounded like the same word. For a few moments, just long enough to make me think that maybe I’d been wrong, the woods were quiet and still.

And then everything erupted at once.

T
here was a shout from somewhere in front of me, and the werewolf bayed. I heard a brief scuffle, followed by a sharp yelp. Then the only sound was my own breath, bellowing in and out of my lungs.

I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and instinctively stepped toward it, still holding the sword out in front of me.

Suddenly, a bright light, much brighter than Elodie had been, shone directly in my face. I closed my eyes, and stumbled. That’s when something slammed into my outstretched hand, hard enough to make me cry out. My hand immediately went numb, and Archer’s sword slipped from my fingers. Another hit, this one to the back of my legs, and suddenly I was on my back.

A weight settled on my chest as bony knees pressed both of my arms to the ground. I felt a sharp stinging under my chin, and I fought the urge to whimper.

Then a high-pitched voice asked, “What are you?”

I opened my eyes gingerly. The flashlight that had blinded me was lying a few feet from my head now, which gave me just enough light to see what appeared to be a twelve-year-old girl sitting on my chest.

I’d gotten my butt handed to me by a
sixth grader
? That was embarrassing.

Then the cold metal at my neck reminded me this particular sixth grader had a knife.

“I’m…I’m not anything,” I said, trying to move my mouth as little as possible. My eyes were rapidly adjusting to the dim light, and I could see the girl’s bright red hair. And as weird as it may seem, what with a blade at my throat and all, my first thought was,
Oh, thank God.

She may have been littler than I’d expected, but in a lot of ways, this girl was everything I’d imagined the Brannicks to be. They were a large family of women—always women, although I guess guys factored in there somewhere, seeing as how the family had been around for over a thousand years. Descended from a megapowerful white witch named Maeve Brannick, they’d dedicated themselves to ridding the world of evil.

Unfortunately, I fit their definition of evil.

The girl scowled. “You are something,” she hissed, leaning in closer. “I can feel it. Whatever you are, it’s not human. So you can either tell me what kind of freak you are, or I can cut you open and find out myself.”

I stared at her. “You are one hard-core little kid.”

Her scowl deepened.

“I’m looking for the Brannicks,” I said in a rush. “And I’m guessing you are one because…you know, red hair and the violence and everything.”

“What’s your name?” she demanded as the stinging at my neck became actual pain.

“Sophie Mercer,” I said through clenched teeth.

Her eyes widened. “No way,” she said, sounding for the first time like the middle schooler she probably was.

“Way,” I croaked.

For a second, she looked unsure, and the knife at my throat slid back, maybe an inch or so. It was all I needed.

I rolled hard onto one side. The move pulled something in my shoulder so badly that tears sprang to my eyes, but it still had the desired effect of dumping the girl off me.

She shrieked, and I heard a muffled thump that I really, really hoped was the knife hitting the ground. I didn’t give myself time to check, though. On my hands and knees, I scrambled over to Archer’s sword. My fingers closed around the hilt, and I dragged it toward me.

Using the sword for leverage, I pushed myself to my feet and turned back to the girl. She was still sitting on the ground, leaning back on her hands, her breath coming hard and fast. All traces of Badass Girl Scout were gone from her face; now she was just a scared little kid.

I wondered why. I mean, I was still leaning on the sword, not pointing it at her. My legs were trembling so much, I was sure she could see it, and I knew my face was streaked with tears and sweat. I couldn’t have made a very intimidating—

And then I remembered her face when she’d heard my name. She knew me, or at least knew of me. Which meant she probably knew what I was.

Or used to be.

I tried to give her my best “I Am A Demon Princess” look, which was quite the challenge, seeing as how my hair was hanging in my face and my nose was running. “What’s your name?” I asked.

The girl kept her eyes on me, but her hands were moving restlessly over the ground around her, no doubt searching for the knife. “Izzy,” she said.

I raised both my eyebrows. Not exactly a name to strike fear into the heart.

Izzy must’ve read that in my expression, because she frowned. “I’m Isolde Brannick, daughter of Aislinn, daughter of Fiona, daughter of—”

“Right, right, daughter of a bunch of fierce ladies, got it.” I ran a hand over my face, my eyes aching and gritty. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been so tired in my life. My head felt like it was filled with cement, and even my heartbeat seemed heavy and sluggish. There was also this weird, niggling feeling at the back of my mind, like I was missing something important.

Shoving that aside, I turned my attention back to Izzy. “I’m looking for Grace Mercer.” As soon as I said Mom’s name, a thick, painful lump rose in my throat. I blinked as I added, “I was told she was with the Brannicks, and I really need to find her.”

And throw my arms around her, and cry for maybe a thou
sand years,
I thought.

But Izzy shook her head. “There’s no Grace Mercer with us.”

The words fell on me like blows. “No, she has to be,” I said. Izzy wavered in front of me, and I realized I was seeing her through tears. “Cal said she was with the Brannicks,” I insisted, my voice cracking.

Izzy sat up straighter. “Well, whoever Cal is, he was wrong. There are only Brannicks back at the compound.”

Find Mom. That had been the only thing I’d focused on from the moment Cal turned to run into Thorne Abbey. Because if I could find Mom, then somehow everything would be okay, and I’d be able to find everyone else, too.

My dad, and Jenna, and Archer, and Cal.

A wave of grief and exhaustion slammed into me. If Mom wasn’t here, then I’d just put myself right in the middle of enemy territory for nothing. No powers. No parents. No friends.

In that moment, I let myself entertain the idea of just putting the sword down and lying on the ground. It would feel good, and really, if I’d lost everything, who cared what this tiny homicidal person did to me?

But just as quickly, I shut that thought right the heck down. No way had I survived demon attacks, and ghoul duels, and demonglass explosions to end up murdered by Raggedy Ann. Whether Mom was here or not, I was going to survive this.

My fingers tightened on the sword’s hilt until I felt the metal cut into my skin. It hurt, but that was good. That might actually keep me from passing out, which in turn would keep Izzy from dissecting me, or whatever it was Brannicks did to demons.

Former demons. Whatever.

“So you guys have a compound,” I said, trying to will my brain into working. “That’s…cool. I bet it has bunkers and barbed wire.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

“Right, so this compound. Where exactly…” My words trailed off as the ground started swaying. Or was it me weaving from side to side? And was everything getting dimmer because the flashlight was dying, or was it my eyes that had stopped working?

“No. No, I am
not
going to faint.”

“Um…okay?”

I shook my head. “Did I say that out loud?”

Izzy rose to her feet slowly. “You don’t look so good.”

I would have glared at her if my eyes hadn’t been involved in more important things like not falling out of my skull. A loud chattering noise filled my head, and I realized it was my teeth.

Great. I was going into shock. That was just…
so
inconvenient.

My knees started to give, and I held onto the sword’s handle even tighter, trying hard to stay on my feet.
Archer’s sword
, I told myself.
You can’t pass out because you have to find him and help him.…

But it was too late. I was slipping to the ground, and Izzy had turned around, obviously looking for the knife.

Suddenly, I noticed a faint glow coming from somewhere behind me. Confused, I started to turn toward it, figuring it was probably a Brannick hunting party. And then I felt a powerful, almost electric buzz shoot through me. I recognized it immediately.

Magic.

I stood completely still, disoriented. Had my powers just—but no. Whatever was flowing through me, it didn’t feel like
my
magic. I’d always felt my powers shoot up through my feet, rushing from the ground. This magic felt like something light and cold settling on top of my head. Like snow.

Like Elodie’s magic.

That’s because it
is
my magic, moron,
Elodie’s voice sneered inside my head.

“What?” I tried to say. But my mouth wouldn’t move. One of my arms lifted from my side, but I wasn’t moving it, either. And I certainly didn’t shoot a golden bolt of power from my fingertips into Izzy’s back.

Shrieking, Izzy tumbled to the ground.

I walked forward, the sword lifted high, but again, it was like I was a puppet. I could feel the grooved metal of the sword’s hilt in my hands, and the pain in my shoulders from the strain of lifting it, but I had no control over what I was doing.

Izzy had managed to get to her feet and was stumbling away from me. She backed into a tree with a thump, and I watched as I placed the tip of the blade at her throat.

Even as I began to wig out inside my own head, I could feel Elodie’s triumph blazing through me.

Get out!
I screamed silently.
I wouldn’t even want to share a dorm room with you, much less my body.

No way
, was Elodie’s only reply.

“I’m super over you right now,” I heard myself snarl to Izzy. “So you can either tell me where my mom is, or I can shish kebab you. Your choice.”

Izzy was panting, and there were tears pooling in her big green eyes.

She’s like, twelve, Elodie,
I thought.

Whatever
, Elodie replied. I could practically hear the eye-roll in her voice.

“I—” Izzy said, her eyes darting to look somewhere over my shoulder.

I tried to turn my head to look, but Elodie kept my gaze riveted on Izzy.

“You know,” I said, feeling my lips curve into a smirk, “a Brannick killed by a demon with one of L’Occhio di Dio’s swords. There’s something kind of delicious about that, don’t you think?”

There is something behind me, you crazy person!
I shouted inwardly.
Stop doing the creepy villain thing, and look!

But Elodie ignored me.

I was still studying Izzy’s face when her look of terror suddenly crumpled into relief. I wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger, my panic or Elodie’s confusion, both of which I could feel welling up from my stomach.

And then both feelings were eclipsed by an enormous bolt of pain as something crashed into the back of my skull.