Hexed (28 page)

I close my eyes tight, the anticipation nearly as painful as what I imagine the knife will be.
Just
get
it
over
with,
I think.
Kill
me
already.

A collective gasp rises up all around me, and the chanting cuts short to confused murmurs. I pop my eyes open. I can’t see a thing but the black, heavy cloth, but I whirl around anyway, following the sounds of commotion breaking out all around me.

Leo’s annoyed voice cuts through the confused murmurs. “What’s going on?”

“He’s alive,” a voice calls out.

“My magic,” another voice adds.

“It’s not working!”

The murmurs abruptly switch to panicked cries.

The cloth is yanked from my head and the wire around my wrists cut free in one swift motion, so that I’m left stumbling and confused in the chaos that surrounds me. Jezebel’s back is retreating before I can even register that she helped me.

I spin around to find Bishop—blood spilled from a gash in his shirt, wrestling the knife from Leo as a mass exodus of sorcerers madly slosh toward shore. Bishop wins the knife and tosses it with a
plunk
into the water. Leo holds his hands up toward Bishop, jaw tense and eyes determined, as if he’s trying to summon his magic. But nothing happens. Leo’s eyes dart left and right, and he backs up.

Jezebel appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Go on”—she nods toward the fleeing sorcerers—“your friends are leaving without you.”

Leo pauses a moment, as if to consider whether this is a trick, then bolts. Jezebel laughs, a delighted sound that lights up her face, and holds out a hand. The fleeing sorcerers not already out of the water hit an invisible wall.

“I’m thinking alligators,” Jezebel calls, tapping a finger on her chin. “Yes, alligators seem like the way to go.”

Ripples form in the water, and the long, scaled bodies of dozens of alligators appear, homing in slowly on the sorcerers backed against the invisible wall. A long snout jumps from the water and digs into Leo’s back. I cover my ears as the sound of snapping bones and high-pitched screams break through the night.

“Come on.” Bishop turns me away from the scene and pulls me into his arms. I sink into him and let myself be led around the carnage, toward the first car at the roadside, telling myself that they deserve it for what they did to Mom, that I should enjoy their gory deaths instead of being sick over it. “It’s over,” he says.

“It’s over,” I repeat, testing out the words.

“O
kay,
now
can someone explain to me what the hell that was all about?” Jezebel paces in front of the booth, wearing a tread in the In-N-Out Burger’s checked gray tile.

After everything that happened, I was far too drained, not to mention hungry and thirsty, to jump into a lengthy explanation on the drive back into Los Angeles.

I swallow my bite of cheeseburger in preparation to speak, but Bishop beats me to it, talking around a mouthful of food. “The Bible was a fake.”

Jezebel stops pacing to stare at him.

“That’s why they lost their powers,” I say, wiping my fingers on a napkin and twisting around to face her. “They killed a witch using a fake Bible, only Bishop didn’t die because of the ring.”

“I have only one life left.” Bishop holds up his hand to show her that the ring is now engraved with the Roman numeral one. “That was fun and all, but I don’t really want to do it again, okay?”

Jezebel closes her eyes and shakes her head, as if someone were trying to teach her a complicated mathematical formula. “But how? Why is there a fake?”

“The Family used us as bait,” I continue. “They must have planted a fake one at Mom’s shop to divert the Priory’s focus from the real Bible’s location. That’s why they never sent anyone to help. They used us.” My tone becomes bitter. “They didn’t care if we died, just so long as their stupid Bible was safe. I bet there are zillions of fakes around the world.”

Jezebel shakes her head adamantly. “It’s impossible. Secrecy is paramount to the Family. They’d never risk exposure unless it was for something really important, like the Bible. And besides, the Family wouldn’t risk me like that. Maybe the two of you, but not me. There’s got to be another explanation. I’m one of the best witches they’ve got.”

“And you’re deadly afraid of vultures and everyone knows it,” Bishop chimes in, then takes another huge bite of burger. “You’re a liability.”

Jezebel lets out a little snort of derision.

“I’m sorry,” Bishop says.

She tilts her chin up. “Don’t be. It’s not true.”

“Okay, so why don’t you explain to me why the Family didn’t help us when they had a chance at recovering the Bible?” Bishop wipes ketchup from his chin with his sleeve, a thing only a guy would do.

Jezebel’s quiet a moment before she speaks. “B-because they couldn’t risk it, knowing they could get killed. Did you see the Priory’s numbers back there?”

“So they sent you alone?” Bishop asks, incredulous. “And they sent me alone, in the first place, to bring back our most important relic, when sorcerers were following our every move?”

“They trusted me,” Jezebel spits, but her voice cracks with emotion. It’s probably the first time I’ve ever felt remotely bad about anything to do with Jezebel. And it will probably be the last.

“They didn’t help,” Bishop continues, “because the real Bible was never missing.”

Dishes clank in the restaurant’s kitchen.

“Forget about this,” Jezebel says. “I’m out of here.”

“Oh, come on, Jez.” Bishop reaches out to grab her arm but misses when she recoils. “Don’t feel bad,” he calls after her. “It’s not just you they don’t care about. The Family obviously tipped off the Priory about me getting sent to pick up the Bible. Who else would have known about my mission except them?”

The bell jangles, and the restaurant door swings closed behind her.

Bishop gives himself a whole-body shake and settles back against his seat.

“She helped me back there, you know,” I say quietly. It’s the closest I’m willing to come to saying anything positive about her after she left my mom to die at the hands of the Priory.

He takes another bite of his burger before standing. “She’ll be fine. She just needs to cool off.”

I force a little smile and stand. “I don’t blame her for being mad, though. I’d be pretty pissed too.”

“She’ll get over it. Trust me.”

I hope it’s true.

Bishop links arms with me and leads me outside. The Sunset Strip is its typical just-after-bar-close self, teeming with sidewalk traffic so dense it competes with the cars clogging the street. Palm trees sway in the light cast by the neon signs of the clubs; music and high heels and cell-phone chatter fill the night. But when Bishop looks down at me, it’s like we’re the only two people around.

He pulls me against his side. “So, I guess life is going to be pretty boring without people trying to kill us every day.”

I laugh, putting my arm around Bishop’s waist. “I’ll take boring.”

A panhandler jangles a cup of change, and Bishop tosses a few large bills into his tin without pausing. “Where to?” he asks me.

My first thought is home, but then I remember Aunt Penny. She’s a witch. There was a Blackwood spell on the fake Bible, and she knew how to break it. I don’t know what it all means, why she lied to me and didn’t help me when my life was in danger. I just know that I don’t trust her, and I can’t go home until I figure it all out.

“Your place, I guess,” I say.

Bishop looks down at me, grinning like a madman.

“I don’t mean it like that.” I punch him in the gut, but I’m laughing now. “I just need a place to stay for a while, until I figure some things out.”

“I think I can help you with that.”

When I look up at him, I expect to see a smirk, but instead I find that same hunger in his dark eyes. Something in the air changes, and suddenly his warm body presses me up against the stucco side of the nearest building, and his lips crush against mine hard and fast. I kiss him back just as urgently, because I’ve wanted this for so long and it seems I don’t know how to do anything without immediacy, without the threat of death looming over me. And then his fingers curl into my hair and his kiss becomes achingly deep and slow, because we’re safe for now, and we have all the time in the world.

“So does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” he asks huskily when he pulls away for air and my insides are the consistency of melted butter.

“Hmm.” I look up for a moment, as if considering. “Okay. But
only
if Betty gets herself a bikini.” I brush my fingers along the naked Betty Boop tattoo on his neck. “No way I’m dating someone with a pair of boobs on his neck.”

A smile blooms across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making laugh lines sprout up around his mouth. “Technically, the boobs are on my collarbone, but it’s a deal.”

I smile too and pull him into another kiss.

It’s not like everything is perfect, or ever will be again, but right at this moment, pressed against Bishop’s warm body, everything is okay. And I’ll take okay.

“Should we call a cab or just conjure one?” he asks after I’ve released him.

I instantly remember my promise to Paige. “Oh shit, my phone.” Somewhere between being chased by a dragon and sloshing through the L.A. sewer system, I lost my purse.

“Not a problem,” Bishop says, winking at me. He holds out his hand, and a small silver phone materializes in his palm.

I smirk at my boyfriend before snatching it up and dialing Paige’s number. It rings eight times before going to voice mail.

“Weird,” I mumble, and dial it again.

Voice mail.

“What’s going on?” Bishop asks.

“I don’t know. She’s not answering.”

I remember the missed call from Paige earlier. At the same moment I remember that she left a message, and frantically dial the number to reach my cell phone’s voice mail. Soon, answering-machine lady speaks to me in her irritatingly monotone voice.

“You have one new message, left yesterday at nine-forty-five p.m.” Static plays through the speaker, and then …

“Hello, Indigo.”

Leo.

I gasp.

“I’m here with your friend Paige, and you know, even though you and I have had our problems in the past, I can agree with you on this one thing: she is an absolute
doll.
” There are muffled moans in the background. Someone grunts, and the sound of china shattering pierces through the phone. When Leo speaks again, his cool confidence is gone, and his voice is cut with an edge of hostility. “I was really hoping you’d come by and join us, but since you’re not answering your phone, I think we’ll just have to come to you.”

I
blink my eyes open. At first I see nothing but darkness, but when my eyes adjust I find that I’m in a small room. The muted bass of club music thumps above me, vibrating the wooden beams of the low ceiling. A slow, aching pulse pounds against my skull, and when I swallow, my throat burns as though I’ve just put away a whole pack of cigarettes. I rub my temple, racking my brain for a clue—something, anything—about where I am or how I got here.
Think, Paige. Think.
With a jolt I recall the man with the scarred face. Remember his threats, his scary obsession with Indie, him pushing me into the backseat of the car.

And then nothing.

My heart races, panic setting up camp in my chest. I need to get out of here.

My eyes lock on a thin strip of pale light I hadn’t noticed before, illuminating the edge of a door. Swallowing, I push myself to my feet, my muscles complaining against the movements. My head drains of blood when I stand and I nearly pass out, but I hold out my arms and soon the world stops swaying. I take a hesitant step forward. Then another.

A sound outside the room stops me short. Footsteps. Laughter. Coming closer.

I suck in a breath and scuttle backward, my back slamming into a shelf. Something clatters to the ground, and the laughter stops.

Holding my breath, I close my eyes tight and clench my shaking hands at my sides.
Please
don’t come in, please don’t come in.

The door creaks open.

“And what do we have here?” a man says. His words send a chill up my spine.

I force my eyes open. Two figures stand in the doorway, backlit by smoky gray light. A thin-faced man with buzzed hair and too-tight pants, and a generic-looking blond bimbo who clings to his arm.

The man shakes off the girl’s grip and steps into the room. My heart rate accelerates with each step he takes nearer to me. He reaches up over his head and pulls something, and I’m suddenly blinking against the dim light of a single overhead bulb. The man stares at me for way too long, his eyes traversing every inch of me so that I want nothing more than to melt into the shelf and become part of the decor.

“And just what do you think you’re doing here,
human
?” the man says, contempt lacing his last word.

The girl steps forward and throws her arms around the guy’s shoulder, assessing me. “She looks young, Bobby.”

Bobby grins. “Old enough.”

This is a nightmare, I decide. Just a horrible nightmare. I close my eyes tight and try to wake up, but when I open them again, they’re still there, sneering at me.

An unwitting sob escapes me.

“Aw, you’ve scared the little girl,” the bimbo says, laughing.

Bobby joins in. “What’s your name, little girl?”

I press my lips together to keep from crying again.

“Come on now, don’t be shy,” Bobby says.

A shadow falls across the room. At first I’m not sure whether the person in the doorway is a man or a woman. The albino-white hair, which matches equally pale skin, is short and slicked back, reminiscent of James Dean’s. The eyes are big, framed by white lashes that are bare of any makeup, and all the other features are so androgynous it could go either way. It’s only the voice that gives her away as a woman.

“What’s going on here?” the woman says.

“Nothing!” Bobby blurts out, and laughs nervously.

“I thought I’d made it abundantly clear that no one was to come into the basement without permission. Was there a problem with my instructions?” She tilts her head very slightly, locking her unblinking eyes on the guy.

I dart my eyes between them, unsure of what’s going on—just that I don’t want to be a part of it.

When he doesn’t respond, she continues. “I hope you weren’t thinking about harming the girl.”

“Of course not, Rowan,” Bobby says quickly. “But, just so I know … why are we not harming her, again? She’s just a human, you know. I can tell.” His laughter peters out when she doesn’t join in.

“Because,” the woman says, stepping into the room, “I have big plans for this girl.”

Dying to find out what happens next?
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