Tegan's Return (The Ultimate Power Series #2) (12 page)

 We've left the city now, and are currently on the motorway leading to various suburban destinations. I wonder what would happen if one of the other drivers on the road happened to see past the glamour shielding the witch and the two warlocks. A collision would surely ensue. The witch grabs a hold of the side of the glassless window, and Eliza's fangs extend along with a gut curdling hiss that slithers past them.

 “Get your hands off the vehicle,” she warns.

 The witch grins, clearly happy to have pissed Eliza off. The driver pulls abruptly away from the motorway and circles a roundabout that leads to an empty, dark country road. All I can hear now is the roar of the engine and the rustle of leaves from the trees on either side of the road. Eliza and Whitfield's attentions are focused on the witch, who is now reciting some sort of incantation. Whitfield slides closer to the window and grabs the witch's chin with his claw like hand. Rapidly he pulls it back as it sizzles and burns. The witch laughs.

 “Your little spells will not protect you for long,” he threatens.

 Eliza screams in outrage. Clearly she doesn't like witches hurting her precious father.

 I turn a little to face Ethan. “You should have left me at the club,” I tell him through a clenched jaw. I'm not at all happy to be caught up in this fight.

 “Don't be stupid Tegan, the magic wielders would have taken you hostage.”

 I'm about to disagree, because the one eyed witch had obviously planned on helping me find Dad. A brick settles itself in the pit of my stomach as I realise that's not going to be happening now. But then I think of the woman holding onto the car window. She said the dead witch was her sister. Hope seizes me. Perhaps she knows something about Dad too. I have to figure out a way to make sure that Whitfield doesn't kill her in this stupid dual they have going on.

 I'm suddenly hyper aware of Ethan's arms folded tightly around my waist. “I hate you right now,” I tell him, unsure of where my anger springs from. I hate how he can make me forget what he is when he touches me. Then I remember that I'm supposed to be trying to get back into his good books and regret what I've said. I'm no good at acting.

 “I can work with hate,” he answers with a challenge, his eyes hard.

 “I don't doubt that,” I whisper, and abruptly the car swerves and I hear the sound of metal bending and crunching. One of the warlocks has torn the driver's side door right off. God, I'll have to get Rita to teach me how to do that sort of spell. Ripping metal from metal must surely come in handy at some point in a person's life.

 The warlock pulls the vampire driver out of the car and throws him onto the road. Oh crap. The car slides off the road and rams through several trees and bushes. Everything happens so quickly that I barely have time to register what's going on before I hear the sound of the car crashing into water. Liquid spills in through the missing window and door and begins to rapidly fill the car. It's only now that I realise we've sped off the road, through a ditch, and crashed into some kind of a lake or river.

 My entire body is drowning and I can barely keep my head above the water in the sinking vehicle. I glance about to see that Whitfield, Eliza and his remaining bodyguard have already gotten out. Liquid fills my nose, causing my sinuses to burn and my throat to spasm frantically. Hands slip around my shoulders as I struggle to breathe, and then I feel myself being pulled upwards.

 I hold firmly onto Ethan as he drags me out the window and up to the surface. His arms circle me as we breach the suffocating water and I gasp for air. His dark blond hair looks almost black since it's soaking wet. It hangs over his face. Now he's putting his hands on either of my cheeks and peering at me as if to check if I'm alright. I can't speak because I'm still in shock. It seems like mere seconds have passed since we were secure in the car back out on the road.

 Ethan nods ever so slightly, as though deciding that I'll survive. Then he begins swimming backwards with one arm, the other around my waist, pulling me along with him. It's only now that I have the opportunity to look around and see that the car had actually crashed into a small lake. Ethan helps me up onto the grass and moss, and the cold air hits me, especially now that my clothes are soaked through. I stand up on wobbly legs. My coat feels like it weighs a tonne, so I shrug out of it.

 My black dress is completely stuck to me; it clings tightly to my body as water drips down my legs. Oh well. At least I haven't drowned. There's a groaning noise as Whitfield's town car disappears under the water. What a waste of money that was. Although I'm sure the Governor isn't hurting for cash to replace it.

 Speaking of Whitfield, he's currently leaning against the bark of a tall tree. Eliza is fussing over him to make sure he's not injured. His bodyguard is standing off to the side, scanning the area to see where their enemies have gone. The other bodyguard who'd been driving the car and got thrown out runs up to us now. There's a gash on his forehead that's already healing.

 “Bastards,” he wheezes. Whitfield's cold gaze cuts into him, as though reprimanding him for allowing himself to be overpowered by a warlock. Then those caramel eyes land on me. Chills seize me, but they've got nothing to do with the temperature. A few seconds pass.

 Finally he says, “You're all wet.” Absolute silence fills the space, before every single one of the vampires bursts out laughing, including Ethan. Jesus.

 “I believe I just made a double entendre,” Whitfield declares happily, dabbing at his eyes like an elderly man who just cracked a joke. “My dear, you smell even better when you're soaked,” he laughs again, and I'd slap him if he wasn't practically the king of the vampires.

 Ethan appears highly amused. “You haven't smelled her when she sleeps,” he adds with a grin. “It's truly something.”

 “Perhaps you'd be willing to rent her out for a night,” Whitfield replies.

 Ethan glances at me then, and I know he's still pissed with me for walking off on him last night, even if he did just save me from drowning. I feel like he's about to say yes, that he would be willing, but then he answers, “You know I never liked to share, Jeremy.”

 “No, a pity that,” says the ancient vampire, before straightening up.

 I get a weird popping feeling in the pit of my stomach, and somehow I sense it's my magic coming to life inside me, urging me to use it. I wonder what would happen if I hit Whitfield with some of those flitting sparks I managed to create outside Rita's house last night. He wouldn't be so forthcoming with the double entendres then I'm sure. I actively hold myself back though. No point in ruining all my hard work cosying up to the vampires in order to get to Rebecca. Not that I've been doing such a stellar job of it anyway. And now I only have two and a half days left to get to her.

 My gaze shifts to the lake just a second before the water rises up out of nowhere like a tidal wave. It twirls in loops and comes down on us with an almighty thump. Ethan lets out a loud curse in what I presume is Romanian. Eliza squeals in anger. Whitfield is unsettlingly silent and unmoving. I shake the water from my hair.

 Over on the other side of the lake stand the witch and the warlocks. Before I can look twice, Ethan and Whitfield have sped to them. The three appear shocked that the vampires had gotten to them so fast. Perhaps they haven't had a lot of experience with vampire speed. Silly. They really should have left when they had the chance.

 Right now I wish one of those strange moments would hit me like last night, when I'd used magic without even knowing what I was doing. That way maybe I could stop this battle from continuing. Nothing happens though, and Whitfield seizes the witch by her long hair, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. One of the warlocks raises his hand to throw a spell, but Ethan grabs a hold of his arm and snaps it. The warlock drops to the ground in agony.

 The other lunges at Ethan, throwing a dart of light at him. He dodges it, kicks the man in the chest, puts both hands on either side of his head and snaps his neck. Lovely. It disturbs me how I'm getting used to seeing people killed right in front of me. Maybe it's some sort of survival mechanism, because I can feel myself withdrawing my emotions from the situation so that I don't break down into tears.

 Whitfield sinks his fangs deep into the witch's neck now, and only seconds pass before she goes limp in his arms. Perhaps killing in the traditional vampire way is not so beneath him after all. He's looking directly at Ethan, and there's no mistaking the grin on his face as he drinks from the witch. Oh God. I can't let him kill her, she might have information about Dad. I start to run toward them, my legs moving slower than normal in my soaking wet dress and boots.

 “Get back here!” Eliza demands, but I ignore her.

 The warlock whose arm Ethan broke pulls on some shrubs with his good arm, trying to raise himself to his feet. Ethan laughs cruelly and kicks him back down.

 “Broke your casting arm, did I?” Ethan asks, satisfaction in his voice that I don't like one bit. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully accept his dark half, and it's been rising to the surface all too often. Thankfully I'll be returning to Manchester soon, once Rebecca's home and safe. Then I can escape Ethan and try to forget the mixed emotions he provokes in me.

 “You've no clue what you've done bloodsucker,” the warlock spits.

 Whitfield drops the witch to the ground and wipes the blood from his mouth. “Oh yes, and what would that be?” he asks, and the warlock turns his attention from Ethan.

 “We were going to warn you, but you went and killed Zara's sister. Now I hope they are successful in bringing him back.”

 “Bringing who back?” Whitfield seems midway between bored and intrigued. I guess being six hundred years old means you're always sort of bored with the world.

 My heart hammers in my chest. What were they going to warn the vampires about? And is it connected to the one eyed witch offering me information as to the whereabouts of my dad?

 The warlock raises his head and spits on Whitfield's leather shoe. “I have absolutely no intention of helping you now. You think you've won this war, but you have no idea what they're planning.”

 “I really am beginning to tire of you sewer rats spitting on me,” says Whitfield, a bubble of anger seeming to rise in him. He lifts his leg and kicks the warlock in the ribs. I actually hear them crack. A whoosh of air leaves the warlock's mouth and then blood spills out. Whitfield's kick was intended to kill rather than simply to injure, and there's no doubt the warlock is now very close to his end. I never considered it possible to die from a kick to the ribs, but I guess vampire strength can break a lot more than ribs once contact is made.

 I eye the witch named Zara, now lying weakly on the grass. This is my chance to get to her. I slowly walk around Ethan, Whitfield, and the dying warlock. Their attentions are fixed on him as the life leaves his body. I quickly kneel down by her and press my fingers to the side of her neck that's not bitten. Her pulse is there but it's very faint. Her eyes spring open then and she looks at me intensely.

 “I feel…dizzy,” she says, in a small voice.

 “You've lost a lot of blood,” I tell her, knowing exactly how she feels. My blood got taken from me recently too. Only I'm not sure whether or not it was a vampire who did it.

 “What are you doing Tegan?” Ethan asks suddenly. Crap, I thought he might be too preoccupied with the warlock to notice me.

 “She's dying,” I answer feebly. “I need to do something to save her.”

 “Humans, so compassionate,” says Whitfield, as though he can't understand the emotion at all. Well, I suppose life isn't so precious when you know you can live for a thousand years.

 The witch pulls me to her. Her arms are weak but I bend down to her anyway. “Your dad, they're using him for the ritual,” she whispers, because her life is falling from her quickly now, and she doesn't have the strength to put proper sound into her voice.

 My heart pounds. “Who's using him?” I ask, but she's already gone. Her stark brown eyes have no life in them, and there's something quite humbling about holding a dead woman in my arms. I thought I would be horrified, but instead I just feel sad. Then panic builds up as what she's said sinks in. Someone's using my dad for a ritual? What the hell?

 “What did she say?” Whitfield asks, coming to stand before me, his cold eyes gazing down at the witch I'm holding onto. Slowly I let go of her, lowering her body back down to the grass.

 “Nothing, she was just asking me to help her. I don't think she knew she was dying,” I lie.

 Whitfield assesses me closely, then finally says, “Very well.” He turns and calls to his bodyguards, telling them to get rid of the bodies and phone for transportation back to the city. I half expect Ethan to come and put his arms around me, since I've just watched a woman die. But he doesn't, he leaves me sitting on the grass and walks over to join the rest of the vampires at the other side of the lake.

 Silently, I say goodbye to the witch. I've never necessarily believed in the afterlife, but when you see death happen right in front of you, you begin to hope that there is one. It kind of puts your mortality into perspective. Of course, this is not the first time I've been close to a dead body. A memory of Matthew flashes through my mind, but it's gone just as quickly. I'm sure it won't be the last either. Not with the way things have been going for me recently.