Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel (36 page)

“Was Derrick the poor bastard we found in the storage unit with her?” Ronnie asked. I didn’t like that she outed us as the ones who called the cops on Jackson, but we were already in cages, so it really didn’t matter.

“Derrick was a bastard,” Jackson said. “You’re right about that.”

“Wait,” I turned to look at Roane through the bars of our cages, “you killed someone for him?” Roane didn’t look at me, didn’t even answer me; he just kept staring at the ceiling.

“No,” Jackson said, “he said fae magic doesn’t work that way.” His voice was high-pitched and mocking, matching the sour face he made. “He granted me a wish to make sure Derrick was in the right place at the right time so I could take care of him.”

“Jackson,” Bernadette choked on his name as a sob escaped her, “how could you?”

“How could I?” Jackson demanded, his voice going dangerously low. “How could
you?
You are my wife and he was my best friend.”

“Jack,” she said as she shook her head, “we fell in love; we didn’t do it on purpose. And why do you care? Really? You were more concerned with the business and money. You stopped caring about me or Derrick a long time ago.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Jackson said. He touched her face, his fingers light against her swollen cheek, and for one moment, I saw his features soften. But Bernadette still cringed and turned away from him, unable to bear his touch.

Bernadette looked at me, and even through her broken and bruised face, I could see the pity in her eyes. She mouthed her apologies, tears brimming in her eyes. I shook my head. She had nothing to apologize for, but I would, soon enough.

“Jackson, this is wrong,” she said as she turned to face her ex-husband again.

“I thought you might see it that way,” Jackson said. He shook his head and chuckled lightly. He shook the gun at her like she was a child who needed the secrets of the world explained to her. “But Ms. Kavanagh here is going to help you see the light.” Bernadette looked at me again, her brows drawing together before she dropped her eyes to the bottle in my hand. Being human, I didn’t know if she would know what the potion was, but I felt the urge to hide the bottle from her, like some dirty little secret.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Just something to help you see the light,” Jackson said, laying a hand on her shoulder, making Bernadette flinch.

“It’s a love potion,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. Bernadette turned her wide eyes on me and shook her head slowly. Her lower lip trembled as she opened her mouth to protest. I wanted to look away from her fear, but I was the one who had brewed this damn thing. The least I could do was look at her, suffer with her.

“Jackson, no.” Bernadette turned to him again and gripped the front of his shirt with both hands. I could see her knuckles were bloody as well, and her nails were broken. She had fought well, but I imagine when Jackson realized she wasn’t going to come willingly, he’d pulled out the gun and Bernadette had stopped fighting him.

“It’s going to be fine, Bernie,” Jackson spoke softly to her, brushing her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he stared into her face. For a moment, I could see the love he had for his wife, before he had become this crazed thing that had locked me away and started striking women.

Jackson stepped into her space and made her walk backward until she was almost touching my cage. Every nerve in my body tensed at the thought of her accidentally touching the bars and have to watch her convulse as thousands of volts of electricity passed through her body. But he stopped and held his hand out over her shoulder, through the bars. I clutched the bottle to my chest, not wanting to give it to him.

“You have to add your blood to it,” I said, trying to buy myself some time again, but this time, I wasn’t lying.

“I told you no blood magic!” Jackson roared, startling me so much I nearly dropped the bottle. Bernadette jumped, her back brushing against the bars, sending her body into uncontrolled seizures. The scream died on her lips as she lost control of her body. Her hands were still twisted into Jackson’s shirt and she pulled him against her body, sending the current through him. A noise crawled out of his throat before his hands convulsed and he pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was too loud in the confined space, stealing my hearing almost immediately. I felt as though I’d been submerged underwater, a great pressure on my ears. Plaster exploded overhead as the bullet lodged into the wall behind me. I could see Ronnie screaming at me though I couldn’t hear what she was saying. She tried to motion to Jackson with her head and it took me too long to catch up with her, but in the next moment, my mind kicked into gear and I was digging in my bra. I pulled out the tiny vial of poison and rushed forward.

Jackson’s mouth was open in a silent scream as his body continued to dance in a jerking, macabre way, slamming Bernadette into the bars over and over again. I pulled the cork out of the vial and thrust my arm through the bars, over Bernadette’s shoulder. Jackson’s arm touched me, sending the current through my body, but he couldn’t manage to work his fingers to grab ahold of me. The jolt of power threw me back, but not before I tilted my hand and poured the poison into his mouth.

The black liquid splashed against his lips, dotting his chin, burning his skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the room, curling into my nose, and I knew I would never forget that smell. My heart was racing, my pulse thundering in my ears, and I didn’t know if it was the horrifying sight of seeing the white bone of Jackson’s jaw through his skin or the third electrocution. With jittering arms, I called my power to my hands, hearing my father’s soothing voice in my ear, telling me to remain calm as the tiny bolts of lightning danced around my fingers. Stepping forward, I slipped my hands through the bars and touched Bernadette’s back, shocking her as I shoved her forward, away from the bars.

She crumpled to the floor, her arms and legs jerking uncontrollably, and I worried she’d taken too much voltage, but it was Jackson’s screams that drew my attention away. He’d fallen to the ground and was clawing desperately at his face. Blood covered his chin, running down his neck and staining his shirt. His eyes went wide as he clutched at his chest, his heart constricting. His left arm fell, dead at his side. He managed to spare a glance at me before his eyes fell on the still form of his wife.

Tears rolled out of his eyes as his neck gave up the fight of holding up his head. He reached out with his right hand, touching her sandy hair one last time, caressing it between his fingers before his hand went limp, his eyes staring lifelessly at the woman on the floor. The wisps converged upon him.

Chapter 20

I was too shocked to cry. I was too shocked to do anything but sit on the floor and stare at the bodies outside my cage. Ronnie was trying to talk to me, but nothing she was saying registered. I didn’t know what she expected me to do anyway. I mean, I couldn’t get out of the cage, and the only person not tied up was Bernadette and she was unconscious. I just prayed that was the only thing wrong with her.

“Ronnie,” I said, finding my voice, “just stop.”

“But we have to get everyone out of their cages. The metals and enchantments are killing them.” Ronnie strained against her ties, making her arms bleed even more. If she didn’t stop, she’d end up with scars to remember this horrible nightmare for the rest of her life.

“Let me know how you expect me to do that, and I’ll be happy to help,” I said, looking up at her. She opened her mouth to argue with me or snap at me maybe, but she thought better of it and closed her mouth without another word.

The cloud of pixies started tittering in their cage again, and I turned to see a few of them buzzing to life, floating to the top of their cage. Their tiny, bright eyes were wide with excitement as they watched the door of the room. A few of them started to squeak as they zipped around the confined space.

“What’s happening?” Ronnie asked, but I just shook my head, turning my gaze to watch the door. A moment later, Joey darted in. She was a pink blur almost.

“Oh gods,” she gasped, wavering between going to Ronnie, me, or the unconscious woman on the floor. “Oh, you’re okay, you’re both okay, oh thank gods.”

“Looks like we missed the party,” a vaguely familiar voice rumbled from the doorway, and I saw the impressive form of Kyle standing there. He had one hand braced on the doorframe, and I caught his claws slowly retracting into his fingers, forming back to a smooth, dark hand. A cloud of wisps darted away from him, trying to escape through the closed window.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, but I couldn’t be happier to see them.

“The police wouldn’t come with me,” Joey said, her hands hovering around her face. “I told them that guy,” she pointed at Jackson, “kidnapped you guys, but they just laughed at me. I didn’t know who else to go to, and then I remembered Kyle was at your apartment when… Well… you know.” She finished with a shrug.

“Kyle, thank you,” I breathed, finally letting my body shake, letting go of the white-knuckled control I was holding on to.

“Any time, Mattie,” he said with that bright white smile as he came forward. He hesitated, eyeing the lock. “Any idea where the keys are?”

“Are we really not going to call the cops?” Ronnie asked, stopping Kyle in his tracks, his black boot coming dangerously close to the wet, red stain in the carpet by Jackson’s head.

“Joey already tried to go to the cops,” I said.

“Yeah, but if Kyle calls and says he’s here and there’s a body on the floor, they may actually show up,” Ronnie said. “They’re gonna find out the guy is dead sooner or later. Do you want their forensics people to figure out we were all here and not know it was because we were held captive?”

I looked up at Kyle, still standing too near Jackson’s head, and he shrugged. Sighing, I nodded, waving a hand at him. Kyle pulled out his cell phone and called the cops. Ronnie was right; as soon as he said “dead body,” it was less than two minutes before we could hear the wail of sirens racing down the street. I hated to think what kind of place this building really was if gunshots didn’t raise any questions and needed an actual phone call for help before anyone batted an eye.

Within thirty minutes, the place was swarming with police. There was a sheet over Jackson’s body and paramedics were reviving Bernadette. Kyle was in the front room with Joey as the police questioned him. I said a silent prayer that they didn’t know Kyle was a Were. A paramedic cut Ronnie free of her ties and started cleaning the bleeding wounds on her arms while we waited for an electrician to come out to deactivate the wires going into my cage. Apparently they were reluctant to just unlock the door and let me out before they were sure it was safe, no matter how much we told them Jackson had done it earlier.

Roane was finally out of his cage and in a chair with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Tommie was sitting on the floor by his feet, staring up at him, the doe-eyed look of a childhood crush making her eyes shine. Roane was going to need to get back to the Mound soon. It was the only thing that was going to make him feel better, and I was worried about how much time he had left.

They released the other captives, and the grumpy gremlin walked up to my cage and considered me for a long moment, his scaly hands on his narrow hips, his head tilted to one side. I stared silently back at him, no energy left in me to say anything. His lower lip jutted out and he nodded, tipping his head to me before he walked out of the room to join the other freed creatures for questioning.

Ronnie’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at me. It didn’t seem like much, but just that small gesture from a gremlin was high praise. Not that I thought I would ever get anything in return for what I’d gone through tonight.

By the time the electrician disabled the cage and the door was unlocked, Bernadette was awake, propped up in a chair with a paramedic cleaning the cuts on her face. Two investigators slipped into the cage after I exited and started marking places on the floor and wall with their little color-coded flags.

“There’s a bullet hole up there,” I said, pointing at the back wall. One investigator nodded and stuck a flag by the tiny hole.

Ronnie came over to me and hugged me. Her wrists were bandaged, making her look like she’d unsuccessfully attempted suicide tonight. Joey walked back into the room, the cloud of pixies swirling around her head, a squeaking, tittering, multicolored cloud.

“Thank you so much,” I said, reaching out to take her hand and give it a squeeze.

“Remind me to give you a raise,” Ronnie said.

***

Two hours later, with the sun rising in the east, Roane, Tommie, and I were driving through town, making our way to Caraway Park. Kyle had offered to drive Ronnie and Joey home so I could settle things with the Dunhallows. Roane was sullen and quiet on the drive home, which was just as annoying and obnoxious as he had been while caged. But I didn’t really care; the nightmare was over, and once I returned him to his parents, I could go home and sleep for a week.

After parking the car, I dragged myself out of the car, holding the door open for Tommie, who sprung out and dashed around to stand by Roane. She grinned up at him, but he only turned toward the grassy field and led the way to the Mound. Tiny sparks of anger flashed at my fingertips and I fantasized about flicking him in his pointy ears. Tommie glanced at me, the first signs of heartbreak showing at the corners of her eyes. I smiled at her, trying to silently reassure her, but I wasn’t sure how successful I was.

Unlike when I had arrived at the Mound alone, calling out for help, circling like an idiot before the doorway opened, Roane came within five feet of the entrance and it materialized magically. A high arch formed out of the earth and four fancy-dressed and armed guards filed out, surrounding the prince on all sides without missing a step.

I grabbed Tommie’s hand and hurried us through, following behind the escort, not trusting the fairies to keep the entrance open long enough for us to make it through. Tommie’s hand was tiny and cold in my hand, and she stuck close to my side as the entrance closed behind us, cutting off the reaching beams of sunlight.