Chapter 26

I crossed the room and stood in front of the man moaning in pain. Third degree burns coated both sides of his hands. Twinges of regret gnawed at me, reminding me I wasn’t fully that girl anymore, the one who savored the act of causing others bodily harm.

“Here.” I extended my hand, but when he refused to take it, I knelt at his side. Magic could be used to harm, but it could also be used to heal. I took hold of his hands and let radiant green light flow from my hands into his. Moments later, his grimace of pain was gone, along with his blisters and charred skin. It felt good to use magic for something positive again, like an adrenaline rush, flooding my brain with endorphins.

He was healed, and he still had no idea what to make of that, turning his hand over, front and back, in awe.

“See that? Magic isn’t all bad.”

“Guess that depends on who’s using it and for what purpose.” He gave a small nod, then lifted himself up onto his feet. “Thank you,” he said slowly.

“Yes, well, thank me by telling me exactly how I get through those tunnels unnoticed.”

This was my last day doing Greenbalm’s bidding. Now, I no longer needed him for my freedom. I was done being his puppet. And while I was torn between escaping and finding some way to end him before I left, I did decided it was best to warn Vivienne and Abby after I’d gotten away.

Once safely back in my world, I could let them know what was happening on their side of the veil and figure out a plan to stop the MBD. I paused at my last thoughts. I wanted to stop them. Me. I really wasn’t the same girl anymore.

This was my mother’s home, a world where magic was used primarily for good. Like my deceased maternal grandmother with her herb garden, Lorelei and her healing, and Abby with her tarot cards and whatever it was she did. They didn’t deserve Greenbalm’s wrath or the MBD’s plan. And it would be my pleasure to see them stopped—dead, if necessary. Whatever method gets results, right, Greenbalm?

****

Locked in my little white shoebox again, I paced the floor. Callum had been assigned to stand watch outside my door, since no one believed I was really as cooperative as I’d been. I’d hidden the floor plans inside the lid of the toilet tank. What I needed was something I could use as a weapon. Without magic, I’d need a weapon of some sort to overpower the guard and grab his keys. Had I been stronger, I would have conjured one out of the ethers, but that took more strength than I had.

I banged on the door with both hands locked together.

He grunted something under his breath, something foul, but continued to do his best to ignore me.

“Hey, I need to use the restroom.”

“Good for you,” came his reply.

“Either you let me, or you’ll have a mess of an entirely different kind on your hands.”

After heaving a you’re-imposing-on-my-life-again sigh, he grunted. “Fine.”

Callum stalked in, unlocked the bathroom door, then stared at me, arms folded across his chest.

“Well?” I cocked my head. But when he didn't get it, I cleared my throat and held up my bound wrists. “You planning on coming in with me? Because without the use of my hands—well, it’ll definitely be a two-person job.” I smiled sweetly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, then quickly unlocked my cuffs. “Don't try anything, witch.”

“What is there to try?” My magic had been carefully locked away again. And getting the master key to the Shaqua band and my prison cell would be challenging enough. Callum had been on his toes and heavily armed ever since our last tangle. Better to wait for the next guard duty shift. Too bad it wouldn’t be Luc. I was relatively sure I could persuade the little traitor to help me, but he was never on guard duty.

I massaged my wrists as I strolled into the washroom. Inside, I scanned for a way out. There wasn't one. Only the vent that was too tiny to shimmy through. I retrieved the floor plans. They were well laid out, although I still had my doubts about whether my plan would work.

With a deep sigh, I leaned both hands against the sink, while the sound of Callum’s boots paced outside the door.

Then, something caught my eye. A gleam of silver, jutting out from behind the faucet.

A screw. I started twisting it free but froze when I heard noises. Whimpers, traveling through the vent near the ceiling.

I climbed up on the toilet seat to listen closer. More whimpers. Moans. Soft cries. Like those of a child.

My heart lurched violently into my throat. They were holding a child here. And they were torturing her, too.

Suddenly I was filled with a paralyzing fear of the non-supernatural, of the mortals who’d once been prey but were now very deadly predators.

A fist pounded the door. “Come on out, little witch, or I'm coming in after you.”

Derelict. I'd no doubt he meant it.

I hopped down, shoved the plans into the waist of my underwear and flushed the handle just as the door swung open. Then without another word or glance, I sashayed past him, grabbing the metal screw as I went past.

****

Alone that evening, I fingered it slowly. How had it come to be there? Almost as if someone had deliberately left it. These people were too careful, they'd left no opportunity for escape, and yet, here was something I could use to break free, something that hadn’t been there before. It made no sense. But when darkness came, the strangeness of it didn't stop me from using it to pick the locks.

I waited for Callum to leave, knowing there’d be at least fifteen minutes before someone took his place.

Holding it between my teeth, I jammed it into the mechanism chaining my wrists. Obediently, it sprang open.

This is too easy. I pushed the thought aside and worked to unchain my legs. Then I hurried to the door, hoping to repeat my luck. I did, and the door swung silently open. Without another thought, I darted into the hall.

It was easy to silence my steps with bare feet, and the lights were dim enough that someone would have to come right up on me to spot my drab brown gown.

I stayed close to the walls, pressing my back to the cool surface as I shimmied down the corridor. Two more turns. Left then right, then right again. I had the first part memorized. I approached a corner and stopped short, my heart lurching into my throat.

“Well, well. What have we here?” Callum’s voice rounded the corner a second before he did.

His voice coated me like poison, and I turned to face him.

“Busy little witch.” He leaned casually against the wall, eyeing me with a gaze lit with malice. “Caught you being naughty, and there’s no one around to tell me how I should punish you.” A sick smile stretched his lips as he pointed to a camera perched deep in the corner.

Security cameras. Of course. The defector who’d given me the maps failed to mention that part.

I took a step back as he prowled forward. He held two batons, one in each hand. They sizzled and sparked to life, charged with electricity.

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” he sneered, “but it is going to be fun.”

I bolted in the opposite direction, racing back the way I’d come. But he was fast. Too fast. He leaped at me, catching my arm, and dragged me back.

His baton wrapped across my neck, cutting off my oxygen.

“How do you like it? Enjoy having your airway cut off?” He tugged harder.

I gasped, clawing at his hands. I elbowed him in the gut, but he was strong.

With trembling fingers, I fumbled desperately for the small screw, finding it in the hem of my sleeve.

Callum tugged back harder on his baton, and I choked out a silent cough. The screw nearly slipped from my fingers. Just as I was about to pass out, I jammed it into the side of his neck.

Blood spurted from the puncture, and he staggered back a step, clamping a hand to his wound.

I stumbled away from him, doubled over, gasping in mouthfuls of air.

“You…” He fumed. “I’m gonna do us all a favor.” He threw his batons aside. They clattered to the floor and rolled toward him. He kicked them aside as he fished behind his jacket and pulled out a gun. Aimed directly at my heart.

I slid my back along the wall, tying to put as much distance between us as I could.

When I’d run out of wall to support me, I stumbled back a few more steps before I tripped and tumbled to the floor.

Callum smiled. His weapon stayed trained on me as a wicked gleam lit his cruel blue eyes. He steadied the gun in his hand, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight.

An ear-piercing crack echoed around us as the single bullet connected with its target.