Page 73 of Captured in Love
Raphaël drops into a crouch, his eyes going black, his fangs out. One second he’s in front of me, and the next, he’s nothing but a streak of shadow running to the nearest copse of trees. Levi’s reaction is a fraction slower but still impressive. He darts behind the car, then disappears around the corner of the hospital.
The spell I unleashed on them is the same as the one I’d used on the telekinetic witch in the underwater passage. It’s a horrible, nasty creation that’s pushing them to run and hide, to save themselves from an unseen, intangible enemy.
For a heartbeat, I remain still, guilt gnawing at me. Then another wave of pain crashes into me, the memory of my mother’s tormented last days surfacing from a deep recess of my mind where I’d shoved it to protect myself.
In Paris, I escaped Levi and his sudden confession by cloaking myself in an invisibility illusion spell, but there, the crowds offered me a perfect place to hide, to muffle my footsteps. If I’d done that here, Raphaël would have tracked me down within seconds, either by sound or by scent.
The spell I unleashed on them will give me a head start, but I can’t remain here. The curse will fizzle out eventually, or Levi will find a way to break it, and they’ll come back here first.
I douse myself in magic and wipe my eyes on my sleeve.
Then I leave, even though my heart breaks over and over again.
Twenty-Eight
Levi
I’m tryingto climb into a hayloft at the edge of the town.
My magic fights Nora’s, and I miss a rung on the ladder and bang my shin. The spike of pain is enough to snap me out of the spell, a push I needed to wrestle control over my body and mind from the awful curse she let loose on us.
I mean, I’m only assuming Raphaël got hit with the same shit, because he’s nowhere to be seen. And given how long it took me to break the curse, I’m guessing he had an even harder time getting through his with just my little protection charm at his disposal.
Abandoning my climb, I jump from the ladder, my boots splashing in a puddle of muddy water. Then the smell hits me, and I realize I’m standing right outside a barn. Snuffling and an occasional lowmootell me the stuff clinging to my shoes probablyisn’twater.
Fuck!
I glance around to see if the owners noticed me skulking around their property. The last thing I want is to be arrested for trespassing or worse. Keeping my head down, I make for the driveway, then jog toward the sound of traffic. When I reach the main road, I take out my phone and open the maps app to figure out where the fuck I ended up.
Turns out, I only made it about half a mile—but I must have crashed through some private properties and gardens to get here if the spell really drove me out in a straight line. But since no one’s pursuing me, maybe I got lucky. I hope Raphaël did, too.
I head in the direction of the car and call Nora’s phone. It rings and rings until it disconnects on its own. Not that I really expected her to pick up, I just needed to try.
The sick ball of dread that lodged in my stomach was momentarily forgotten while I was under the influence of Nora’s spell, but now it returns with a vengeance, spreading its sickening tendrils throughout my body.
My father killed Nora’s mother, that much I knew already.
But he did it on someone else’s orders.
The Ballendial coven is after Nora. They must have been the ones to order her mother’s murder, too. Suddenly, the mechanic spikes in that Egyptian tomb and the witch guarding the underwater tunnel here in Iceland make more sense. They were blatant attempts on Nora’s life—and possibly mine as well. If she died, the organizers could claim she’d entered the Games of her own will, under a phony identity, even, so her death was nothing but a tragic accident of a young witch woefully underprepared to tackle the insanely difficult tasks.
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense, apart from one thing: Why did the Scottish witches want to kill Nora’s mother in the first place? And how did they force my father to act on their behalf?
Not that I think it would have taken much to persuade him to dispose of Nora’s mother. With her gone, his path to the position of coven leader was clear. Nora, the natural successor, was too young and inexperienced at the time, barely out of college. And her unusual magic, which allows her to influence other people’s minds, had other coven members wary of putting her in a position of power.
I knew she’d never abuse her power for her own gain.
Even if she just fried me completely with her spell.
Godsdamnit, it was horrible. A shock of pure fear, complete and utter terror, and I couldn’t even wedge my magic into the web she’d woven because I was too busy freaking the fuck out.
My phone rings in my hand, and I jerk in surprise. My first thought is that it’s Nora, calling me back, and sharp disappointment stabs through me when I see Raphaël’s name on the screen.
“Yeah,” I answer, still a little shaken.
“Where are you?” the vampire barks.
I glance down the road, trying to figure out how far I still have to go. “Headed toward the car. Three minutes, maybe five.”
