The Gleaning (16 page)

You’re my problem.

He scanned her collarbone.

She wasn’t wearing his amulet.

His eyes ran down her left arm and stopped on the lavender ribbon wrapped around her wrist.

This wasn’t Lily.

Fool him once, shame on him. Fool him twice? Not happening. Logan stopped fighting his violent urges and gave into full-on rage. Logan swung his weapon through the air again, slicing invisible enemies as he charged her. The dark energies grew, pulsing through his body; he had never despised anyone like this. Not Jacob. Not Jude. No one.

He didn’t want her injured; he wanted her dead.

Metal clanging metal, the two dueled through the circle until Logan pinned the witch against the tallest stone. He shoved her as hard as he could, his strong arms pushing her sword sideways into her chest, dangerous shocks sparking through them and around them. She pushed back. Her sword versus his. Hard. She was strong. Nearly as strong as he was.

But not quite.

The witch’s eyes danced with flames as her face reddened from the pressure of his sword. She was trying her damndest to glean his magic, but he wasn’t letting her.

Shame you wouldn’t just reveal your damn mark then; would’ve made everything a lot easier for you.

She was trying to distract him, to throw him off his game. He shouldn’t give in to her. But he had to know.

Who are you?

Someone who doesn’t believe you’re the Chosen.

While he reeled from shock, the witch kneed him hard in the gut. She twisted, knocking the sword out of his hand, sending it spinning in the dust.

With a single kick to the side, he knocked the sizzling sword from the witch’s hand, and sent it sprawling. Then he charged her, kicking her hard in the stomach. She tumbled backwards and knocked her head against the stone.

The loud crack excited him, sparking a fiery new energy in his body; he was advancing, too.

Everyone watched, waited, as the witch slid slowly down to the ground, leaving a trail of bright red blood on the stone. She landed in a heap, convulsing from the stone’s electricity.

Logan approached her slowly, the burning pain in his eyes making it almost impossible to see.

Get up,
he sneered. Sparks shot off his sword as he tapped the side of her thigh, in an effort to rouse her. Her response was the weak flinch of a dead snake.
Get up, witch.

He nudged her again. No response. Was she unconscious? He hadn’t really meant to hurt her this badly.

Logan glanced once more at the fallen witch, then at the creepy trio for guidance. But they were just standing there hiding behind their masks. What were they waiting for? Call the match!

Suddenly, Logan felt a burn, a stinging white-hot burn in his thigh and then a sharp blow to his jaw.

What the…?

A blur of white. Of lavender ribbon. When his vision cleared, he saw her fiery eyes fading to a cooler green.

Diving onto the ground, Logan rolled in the blood-stained dirt, reached out, and snatched up his sword. He swung it at the revitalized witch without restraint.

She had the same idea. Sparking metal clanged as they fought it out in the circle. The witches cheered for her. The warlocks cheered even louder for him.

Black heat, angry bloody heat, flooded his insides.

Damn, you’re easy to play. No wonder Lily has such fun with you.

He wanted victory so badly he could smell it. And this time it smelled like a poisoned Lily.

With pure brute strength, he finally knocked her off balance and sent her to the ground. Before she could jump up, he straddled her and raised his sword over her heart.

You’ve already lost, Logan.

You’re the one on the ground.

Familiar position for us, isn’t it?

I’ve got you. Surrender, it’s over.

You’d have to kill me first. And if you do that, she’ll never forgive you. Because she loves me.

Logan’s eyes flashed with fury. Taking advantage of his distraction, the witch rolled out from under him. With a graceful twist, she rose high into the air—ten feet off the ground. Legs circling, suspended in space, she shot mesmerizing, ice-green darts out of her eyes. Then suddenly, she swooped down to kick him hard in the jaw. Levitation.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

That damn witch had reached Jade; and this time, when he tried to stop her from gleaning his magic…he couldn’t.

My mouth was so dry. Like cotton. Head…so…foggy. And pounding.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. My body felt anemic, almost faint.

The crowd was screaming inside the Stones. Cheering. They started without me?

I licked my tingling lips, and was instantly filled with horror.

Oh, no. No.

I ran into the circle of stones, just in time to see my doppelganger hovering in the air over Logan’s twitching body. A blinding green current extended from her chest to his, electrocuting him.

Harbingers of death they are.
The warning wasn’t for me. It was for Logan.

I watched in horror as rays of magical energy ebbed from Logan’s core, fueling her electric assault.

“Stop!” I screamed. “You’re killing him!”

I was too late. With a final twitch of his leg, Logan’s body went limp. The doppelganger lowered to the ground, to wait for the count.

Without thinking, I sprinted into the ring. Ignoring the questioning chaos from the covens, I grabbed Logan’s dragon sword off the ground, and swung it at my jade-eyed doppelganger. She leapt over my swing, but didn’t strike back.

Who are you? Why would you do this to him?

She didn’t answer.

“WHO ARE YOU?” I screamed out loud. I don’t know what I was expecting, but when my blade sliced through her chest, her blood—real blood—spilled onto the dirt.

Enchanted bare feet seemingly flew over the forest carpet of pine needles and damp euca-leaves. Her soles pressed so hard to the ground, that when she lifted back off, she caught air on her upswing, flying a few seconds longer than a normal human could, longer than a witch even, before landing again. She grinned with pride. This magic was stronger than anything she’d experienced before.

The doppelganger ran. Faster than a goddess.

The spell wouldn’t last long, however, and she needed to make the most of it while she could. If Lily caught her, she’d have to confess. That certainty was all she needed to keep one foot in front of the other.

“You look a mess. What happened to you, love?” a suave, British-accented voice asked from overhead.

The doppelganger looked up, surprised to see a boy about Logan’s age, with modelesque bone structure and a tight-ass bod, sitting on a tree branch. Dressed in a V-neck black shirt and black pants, his mischievous blue eyes shone through the darkness like the Cheshire Cat’s.

“What’s it to you?” She didn’t have time for games. Even if this particular player was red-hot.

Sensing her urgency, he slid down and landed in front of her. Right in front of her. Practically chest to chest.

“I don’t have time for poppycock either, so I’ll cut right to the chase. Your Mistress sent you to see if Logan’s ‘the one,’ yes?”

She nodded.

“Did he show you his pretty mark?”

“No, but we were interrupted.”

The warlock laughed. “You don’t really think he’s the Rognaithe, do you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“For one thing, he’s Jacob’s adopted son. If Logan had light magic, do you think Jacob would take him in? No, he’d leave him to rot.”

She frowned in surprise. The warlock made an interesting argument.

“You want to know who always gets the short stick and last pick of everything? Me. Want to know why? He thinks
I’m
the Rognaithe. He hates me.”

“Nice try, but I have no reason to trust you.”

“So why would you trust Logan? Because your coven’s little queen bee fancies him? Feels a special connection? Is that why you’re all so hung up on him?”

“No,” she said, but without much conviction.

“What if he’s tricking you all? If Lily is paired with him in the Gleaning, she won’t stand a chance, and you know it.”

“What’s your point?”

“
You
have to fight him.”

“I can’t choose who I’m paired with.”

“Of course you can.”

“How?”

He pressed closer, pinning her against a tree, breathing heavily in her face. “Be this." He brushed her face and torso with the back of his hand. "Be
her
in the Gleaning. He’s no Rognaithe, but he is still quite a prize if you can beat him. And you have the advantage, because he’s not expecting much of a fight.”

She didn’t answer. “Just think how powerful you would become. Your elders would be listening to you, for a change.”

“But I couldn’t do that to Lily.”

Jude laughed. “Ah, so you don’t deny that you want to.”

“Who wouldn’t want to lead the Sisters? But I can’t hurt her like that.”

“You’re protecting her, not hurting her. She thinks with her heart, and it’s putting your whole coven at risk.” He twined a piece of her hair around his finger and stared into her eyes. “I’ve seen how you run—how you almost fly. I think you might be the only witch powerful enough to draw my mark. And I believe it will happen tomorrow in the Stones.”

The doppelganger licked her bottom lip. It did sound intriguing. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t overpower her.”

He leaned in again. “You’re a witch, sweetheart. I’m sure you can think of something.”

“And you? What’s your role?”

“I’ll weaken her for you.” He reached for her sparkly, enchanted hand. “Just give me some of her essence, and I can cast a dream spell—haunt her all night. By tomorrow, she’ll be more reasonable, as far as Logan is concerned.”

I dropped the sword in horror.

I’d never killed anything before.

But I was more concerned about Logan. I dashed to his side, and knelt over him. Running my hand over Logan’s chest, I cooled his flaming skin and checked for wounds.

Though his flesh wounds were minor, I knew he was dying. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel his energy slipping into a dark abyss.

Logan! Please. Where are you hurt? I can’t help you if I don’t know.

A crowd had gathered around us, arguing and shouting. Witches accusing warlocks, warlocks accusing witches. While the Congression demanded answers from our coven, Camellia was hovering over my doppelganger, trying to staunch her bleeding. The image was too chilling, and I turned away.

Tears trickled from my eyes, as I laid my head on Logan’s chest, listening for his heartbeat. Then I gasped.

On his hip, a mark appeared.

The broken-rose moon.

So vivid and stunning and true, it made Jude’s mark in my dream look like a press-on tattoo.

My Logan
was
my chosen one.

Our Rognaithe.

And now he was dying.

Logan, I’m so sorry. How could I have ever doubted you?
I cried, my hot tears dripping on his chest. I pressed into him, giving him everything I had, but knew I couldn’t fix him alone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jude smiling from the sidelines.

Bastard.

Then I saw Iris fighting her way toward me through the crowd.

He has the mark!
I screamed mentally.

Thank goddesses! Lily, use the amulets! Put them together! We just had to be sure he was the one, first, or we’d have lost everything.

I stared at the two tear-shaped amulets. In the diary, Rose’s mother had given her one stone. Something had happened. William and Rose must have been torn apart. And in that parting, they’d broken the peace. Broken the piece.

Our amulets were two halves of what was originally one amulet.

My hands shook as the cold jewels flashed in my hands, begging me to piece them together. I flipped them both upside down, backed one into the other and sucked in a breath as the two upside-down jewels fused themselves into one. A perfect match.

The two teardrops formed a heart.

One perfect heart.

Press it to his heart!
Iris screamed mentally. Behind her, Jacob rushed toward us, his eyes wild and focused on the conjoined amulet. I felt a surge of energy, and he stopped suddenly, held by Iris’ palm, and a surplus of magic.

On the other side of Mom was this trio of creeps in white masks and robes, just standing there staring at us.

I wasn’t sure how long Mom could ward Jacob off, or how in the world she was managing to do that, but I wasted no time holding the conjoined amulet against Logan’s beautiful chest. I breathed all my energies—everything good, everything pure and true that had ever come out of me. It poured out of me and into him. Everything I read in the journal. All of Rose’s first experiences with her warlock: flowing fountains, glittery light, golden butterscotch candelabras floating in a utopian ballroom, top hats and stolen glances and carriages black as night, dancing snowflakes kissing a child’s nose. I gave him silken rose petals and freshly cut grass. And then our memories: grains of star-colored sand, waves on a moonlit beach, an underwater kiss in a sea of kaleidoscope rainbows.

All my memories.

All my dreams.

Our wonderland.

Logan, please.

Please.

A heartbeat. Faint as the wings of a new butterfly fleeing its transformative cocoon, vibrated under my warm cheek. But then, as if it lacked the patience to finish its duty, the necklace chain slipped through my grasping fingers, and before my eyes, it rose until the conjoined amulet, the brilliant heart-stone, floated over us.

A hush muted the frenzied crowd as the amulet hovered. Jacob smiled at it like a rat swiping at a moth.

Don’t look at him, Lily!
Iris’ voice sounded desperate. Her face was visibly aging as she struggled to hold him.

Mom! What’s happening?

I had to take back some of my power to protect the amulet, but now you are no longer safe from Jacob’s eyes.

What does that mean? Mom?