A Lying Witch Book Four Page 7

  But did I shift back?

  “You can’t tell if I lie. And every time I lie, I take you further away from your perfect future. And that, McCain, is how I will defeat you.”

  “Do that, and you will die,” he bellowed, another blast of rage shaking through the forest until I swore every single tree would fall down around us.

  A sane person would finally give in to the force of the witches as they tried to tug me through the door. Was I sane, though? Apparently not?

  My heart was beating so goddamn hard in my chest, it didn’t feel like a heart anymore – it felt like the wings of a hummingbird. And my breath? I was no longer aware of it – just this cold lump at the base of my throat.

  I had just enough force to speak, and it was all I needed. “I’m gonna lie, McCain. And you’re not going to kill me. Instead, I’m going to save my Max. And I’m going to send you back to where you belong.”

  With that?

  With that, I finally allowed myself to be pulled backward. For I finally had the answer I needed.

  Sarah had been right – lying was the key to this entire situation.

  Max let out another powerful bellow of rage as he sprang toward me and tried to grasp my hand one last time before I was plucked from him.

  His fingers felt like steel poles as they gouged my flesh, his short nails cutting my thumb.

  It didn’t matter. The witches were determined to pull me through that door, and they had the power to break Max’s spell.

  The only reason they had that power, I knew, was because Max was so unsettled.

  Another clue.

  Another avenue.

  I was going to win this.

  With that last thought echoing through my head, the transport spell finally spat me out at our destination.

  Chapter 6

  I fell smack bang on my ass in a pile of gravel.

  The witches had been pulling with such force that I had the momentum to skid back half a meter on my already torn jeans.

  Fortunately, there was nothing behind me, and I managed to push into a role, springing to my feet.

  It was to a sight I wasn’t expecting.

  When Sarah had shoved that magical key into the door, I’d assume she would be taking us to another of the witches’ strongholds. Somewhere where we had more of a chance of holding McCain back.

  Instead?

  Instead, I brought a hand up and pegged my nose.

  “We’re at the dump? Why are we at the dump?”

  Sarah turned to face me. She’d been attending to Bridgette’s injuries, her hand crackling with power as she waved it over Bridgette’s blood-soaked stomach.

  Sarah wiped her hand on her summer dress, little droplets of red splashing over the once perfectly clean white fabric.

  “Believe it or not, this is one of the safest places in Bane City,” she said as she spread her arms wide.

  I raised an eyebrow as I continued to keep my fingers clamped over my nose. “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me. This is the safest place in range.”

  “And how long do we have?” I asked, removing my fingers from my nose.

  I watched her eyes shift down as her gaze locked on me with her full force. And that was saying something, because Sarah was a seriously powerful witch. She was the leader of the Bane City Coven, after all.

  “That’s up to you, Chi.”

  A thrill of nerves escaped down my spine. “You need me to leave, don’t you? I get it. I’m an unacceptable risk—”

  She quickly shook her head, bringing a hand up and spreading her stiff white fingers wide. “No. There’s no way we’re going to leave you alone with that monster. Plus, we will need to work together on this. If we allow McCain to ascend to the throne of Bane City – let alone get his hands on you – there’ll be no stopping him. No matter what it costs us,” she said, bringing her hand down and pointing a stiff finger at the gravel below me, “we will stop this man.”

  I watched the other witches start to gather around. Even the witches who were attending to Bridgette’s injuries stopped what they were doing and craned their necks toward Sarah.

  She turned on her foot, facing everyone in turn until she twisted back to me. “We’re going to pull together. But, Chi, I’m sorry to say this, our fates will ultimately rest in your hands.”

  My stomach kicked again. Boy, did it kick. It felt like I had an army down there and they were all trying to tear out of my gut.

  I brought a shaking hand up and clutched it over my belly. That’s when I realized I was seriously injured. The wrist McCain had been holding onto felt as if – quite rightly – it had been crushed. It was bruised and bloody from where his short nails had snagged across my skin. I made a face as I stared at the injury.

  Without a word, Sarah plunged a hand down her top, drew out one of those strange healing stones, and silently handed it to me.

  I accepted it, transferred it to my good hand, and started feverishly rubbing the stone. This time, it took a few seconds until it started to work. Even then, it couldn’t cut through my pain completely. Hell, I doubted an overdose of opium could numb my pain. Because half of it was mental. Total anguish as I fought with my mind to figure out how the hell I was going to stop that asshole.

  Sarah continued to face me, and it was damn clear that she was sizing me up.

  There would have been a time when I would have doubted I would have measured up to size. Now? I let my hands drop to my sides as I stiffened my back and stood as tall as I could. I tilted my head up and narrowed my eyes. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

  There were two witches attending to Max.

  For the first time, I flicked my gaze over to him. As soon as I did, nerves cascaded through my gut, gouging up toward my heart, feeling like black holes as they tore away everything from me that mattered.

  And yet, they gave me all the determination I would ever need. For as long as Max was alive, I’d find a way. Goddammit, I’d find a way.

  “First things first, we have to find a way to capitalize on his weaknesses,” Sarah said.

  “And he’s got a lot of those,” I interjected. “His anger, for one. He can’t control his emotions. And I can use them against him.”

  “You can?” Sarah said, and she sounded genuinely relieved, for half a second. “But we’ll need more. You may be able to play on his anger, but we can’t forget he’s one of the strongest sorcerer kings we will ever face. That sword of his is formidable, too.”

  “Tell me about it. But his anger is not our only weapon. You were right – lying has to be the key. Every time I mention it, he goes ballistic. Not sure if it’s the memory of Mary or if it’s something else. In fact, now I think about it, it has to be something else. It makes him so enraged. Scared, too.”

  “You’re doing a good job if you can pick up his fear. The most I could see was violent anger,” Sarah commented. “You’re obviously very good at reading people’s emotions,” she added.

  I opened my mouth to say my skills weren’t that extraordinary, but I stopped.

  “If we have any chance of riding this out, we need to set up defenses, make this place our last stand,” Sarah said, letting her voice ring loudly as she pointed that same stiff, long, elegant finger at the ground.

  Really? I wanted to comment. The dump? We’d have our last battle here? I’d kind of imagined, considering all my other adventures, that I would wind up in a factory somewhere. Preferably with musty, blood-covered plastic on the floor.

  The dump, however, would do. For the first time, I tipped my head back and let my gaze sweep across the scene.

  The dump was huge. Of course it was huge. Bane City was massive. It was also appropriately far out of town. We were up on a hill, and for hectares around, the green dirt had been gouged away. The dump appeared to have different layers for different trash. From scrap metal, to green waste, to mounted trash that would be dug under the ground.

  Suffice to say, the smell wasn’t exactly pleasa
nt. And yet, the longer I hung around – and, more importantly, allowed my senses to settle on something more pressing – the more I was getting used to it.

  “You,” Sarah said as she gestured toward a group of witches, “use your skills to create roving barricades with scrap metal.”

  The witches in question nodded their acceptance and rushed off, scurrying through the gravel.

  I watched as Sarah gave all the other witches under her command orders. She turned back to me.

  I was still holding the contract in my arms. Weirdly, somehow, I hadn’t dropped it, even when Max had grabbed my wrist. I’d kind of forgotten about it, to be honest. It was so damn light. More than that, it felt right as it pressed against my skin, almost as if it were some long missing limb that had finally returned to me.

  Sarah got a strange expression as she stared at it. Her lips pulled wide, and yet her eyes sparkled as if she was seeing something she’d always wanted to witness.

  “You got it, then? Max’s soul.”

  I blinked hard. “It’s the contract that holds my family to McCain’s curse,” I corrected.

  “It’s also what keeps Max alive – keeps him separate from McCain.”

  I blinked hard. “But… how can you put a man’s soul inside a book?”

  “It’s complicated magic. It sounds like Mary, the woman who started all of this, knew more about magic than McCain.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means she knew full well that McCain could never come good on his curse and control the McLanes as long as a scrap of his soul – the good part of him – was separated from his whole.”

  I shook my head. Honestly, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to comprehend what she was talking about. It would be complicated on the best of days. I was still furiously rubbing the stone as I tried to fight back the pain and nausea that was always pushing against me.

  Perhaps she could sense that I wasn’t following, because a placid, kind smile spread across her lips. “It’s kind of hard to explain,” she conceded. “But think of it this way – our souls are doorways into the future. I don’t believe, like some people, that we only have one future, one destiny. I believe our actions affect where we’ll end up. But I believe our souls help in that decision. I believe there are some experiences we seek out, some things we need to experience each lifetime. And there are some experiences our souls will attract us toward, some doors only they have keys to open.”

  On that particular description, such a rush of nerves escaped over me, it felt as if I’d been plunged into electrified water.

  I stood so straight it was like someone had tried to roll me flat. “Sorry?”

  “When Mary partitioned a section of Max’s soul and trapped it in that book, she blocked it off from McCain. And he desperately wants it back. Because he can never have the future he truly wants without that scrap of his soul.”

  Again, I wasn’t following. That sensation raged through my stomach – that one that told me this was important. In fact, it was key. “But I don’t get it. If that scrap of his soul was so important to McCain, why didn’t he just grab it back? I mean, it was damn clear that he was connected to Max. Connected enough that he could, at times, take Max over. Control him.” As I said that, a truly sick feeling descended through my gut. I remembered the times the shadow would pass across Max’s face. Whenever he mentioned my powers, whenever I’d used them – McCain would shine through.

  “Because McCain can’t. He simply doesn’t have the power. He can’t fight against the contract. In order to regain his soul, he would have to destroy the contract. But do that, and he’d lose all power over you McLanes. And he needs you seers to guarantee his perfect future. As a sorcerer king, it’s my belief that he’s given up his ability to chart a path forward. That’s why he needs seers to figure out what will happen next. He’s trapped, incapable of deciding anything more than that which he decided upon before he lost his soul.”

  I shook my head again. It was a reflexive move, to be honest. Because a part of me was starting to understand. “So you’re saying McCain can’t destroy the contract?”

  “Correct. To do that would be to destroy his hold over you. And yet, you cannot destroy the contract – because that would destroy Max’s soul.”

  I swore under my breath. “So what do we do?”

  “There are certain rites we can cast on the contract, certain spells we can do to plumb its secrets. But to be honest, I don’t think it’s going to be key.”

  There was that word again. Key. How ironic that most of my adventures had ended and started with keys. Heck, in many ways, I’d entered this magical world with the keys that opened my grandmother’s house. Perhaps it would be fitting to exit the world with the keys to Max’s very soul.

  “So what do you think is going to be key?”

  “You. I think you have a connection to Max McCain, whether he realizes it or not. Not only can you read his emotions, and not only do you know how to push his buttons, but he let you in further than anyone else. He also needs you. No matter what he does, he won’t act in a way to kill you.”

  “Comforting,” I said as I brought my wrist up and indicated the massive bruise spreading across it, into my thumb, and down into my arm.

  “That’s superficial.”

  I stopped myself from saying it didn’t feel superficial.

  I got her point.

  “So how does this all fit together? The soul, the contract, his connection to me?”

  “I can’t give you that answer. Chi, I want to. But you’re the only one who can get through this,” Sarah repeated again, voice quiet.

  I wanted to sigh, flop back, plant a hand on my face, and wait for everything to go away. That, of course, wouldn’t work.

  When I gave a fortune, I was always sure to focus on the things the person could change. It wasn’t just crap about avoiding the color yellow or wearing a green dress to attract more money.

  Nope. A truly formative fortune would tell a person what they could do to attract what they want. Because people, no matter how they seem, want to be active in their destinies. They don’t want some random tall stranger to sweep them off their feet. They want to sweep said random tall stranger off their feet. We’re like cats to the cream. Few people like a passive fortune. You tend to appreciate what you find for yourself, not what falls in your lap. I was no different. Even though it was a seriously scary prospect to entertain, I wanted to settle this on my own terms.

  My own mistakes, my own victories.

  Though I was still woozy from blood loss, I managed to nod my head. “I’ll do it. I’ll figure out a way to stop him.”

  Sarah looked expectant.

  “But I could really do with a Band-Aid first. Several, if you have them,” I managed through a chuckle.

  Sarah joined in. “I think we can find you something slightly more effective than a Band-Aid. Come with me.”

  I followed. Soon, I settled down to get some serious medical attention. One of the healing witches was curing me with their magic. Though I would have objected, considering I didn’t want anyone to hurt themselves for me, I knew if I had a chance of defeating McCain, I had to be at the top of my game.

  I lay back against the discarded chair one of the witches had found.

  One of the chair’s springs had pushed out of the fabric, and chunks of foam were scattered around the ground by my feet.

  The seat also stank. Of fish.

  I didn’t care. It was relatively comfortable and allowed me to take the weight off my feet as the healing witch kneeled beside me, his hands splayed wide, his eyes closed as magic played over his palms.

  Though the sensation was pleasant and seriously calming, it didn’t feel anything whatsoever like the magic Max had used on me. It was miles apart from that grass and sunshine.

  And that?

  That made me think of Max.

  Even though I knew I should be lying back, eyes closed, trying to relax to allow the magic to work
as fast as it could, I kept stealing glances at Max.

  There he was, on the ground, a makeshift mattress beneath him, his eyes open as he stared at the sky.

  I hoped he was still in there somehow. Hoped that scrap of McCain’s good side hadn’t been destroyed.

  There was, after all, so much I had to discuss with Max. And by discuss I obviously meant with my lips. I wanted to pick up where we’d left off. And this wasn’t desire talking. No. Ever since the day Max had appeared on my doorstep, I’d known he was the one. And yet, he’d been taken away.

  “Relax,” the healing witch snapped.

  “Okay,” I mumbled as I tried even harder to close my eyes.

  It didn’t take too long for the healing witch to see to my injuries.

  By the end, though I wasn’t completely cured, it had certainly taken the edge off the pain. Blood didn’t slip down the back of my leg anymore, either. Which was very nice. Fortunately, the witches also had a change of pants.

  I didn’t have a chance to wash. I was at the municipal tip, after all.

  Now I was done, I met back up with Sarah Anne.

  She was standing several meters away from Bridgette, watching her, a grim expression pressed over her pretty lips.

  Slowly, Sarah arched her neck over her shoulder and turned to me. She considered me with a calm, calculating look. “I wasn’t kidding before – this will all hinge on you.”

  Maybe it was something to do with the fact I was now healed – that I wasn’t distracted by my nausea and pain – but I took a gulp. Because I realized how damn awful it was to have this kind of responsibility – the whole frigging city weighing on my shoulders. Hello, my shoulders were narrow, and as for saving the world? Go seek applications elsewhere. Rather than point a word of this out, I managed a shuddering nod.

  “But to do it, we need to find out exactly what that contract is and exactly how you can use it to your advantage,” Sarah added.