B00AO57VOY EBOK Page 19

  “Yeah, well, they won’t be summoning him back this time,” Tyler said, sounding so confident that I almost believed him. “When you banished him before, you banished not only his essence, but his form. The Rituali Cinis separates the two. Without a form, he will be pure energy. Trust me, as hungry as some of the creatures on the lost plane are for energy, he won’t be coming back.”

  I shuddered at that, wondering exactly what kind of creatures were on the lost plane. Then, why should I care? It wasn’t like I was going to vacation there. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to mourn for Bastian. Ever.

  “We need a full coven of seven for this to work, though,” Grams said, her eyebrows drawing down in a concentrated frown. “I can take care of the extra witches without any problems. I will speak to my old friend, Aria, about joining us in the morning and I’m sure Constance and Amelia will be happy to help. They are very fond of Ember, after all.”

  Dragon Lady Cantrell was fond of me? That was definitely news to me. As far as I knew, the old bat had never been fond of anyone.

  “And all five elements have to be represented,” Tyler said, glancing up to frown at my now snarling mate.

  “Five?” I repeated, confused. I started counting on my fingers as I listed the elements I had been taught. Earth, air, fire, and water. Yep, definitely only four.

  “Spirit,” Tyler murmured, finally looking away from me. “The fifth element is spirit, Em.”

  “You’re right,” Grams said, softly, “That will definitely be a problem.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be a witch,” Tyler said quickly, shaking his head at Nathan as he continued to pace the kitchen. “I can do it.”

  Every eye in the room was suddenly trained on him and I saw him flush slightly. Nathan looked furious with him, Grams looked interested, and I was practically salivating at the idea of solving another mystery in my life.

  “I’m sure we can find another witch, Tyler,” Grams said sweetly, her expression so shrewd that Tyler immediately bristled.

  “Whose element is spirit?” Tyler asked with a hard laugh. “Tell me Shea, how many witches have you ever known who draw their power solely from spirit? Two, maybe?”

  “One, actually,” Grams mumbled, uncomfortably.

  “And where is she?” Tyler asked.

  “Dead,” Grams admitted in a grumble, pretty much proving Tyler’s point that he was the best we were going to get.

  “Then it’s settled and I’m your man,” Tyler said, winking at me. “That also means we will only need two more witches, not three, seeing as I will be standing in as an element.”

  “What are we waiting for then?” The words had barely left my lips when Nathan descended on me like a tornado.

  “I said no!” he snarled, his face no more than an inch from mine, his lips pulled back from his teeth to expose his fangs. I was surprised he wasn’t foaming at the mouth. “It’s too dangerous!”

  Who did he think he was? I didn’t take orders from him or anyone else. I loved him, yeah, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to take over running my life. And that was exactly what was at stake here. My life. Bastian wasn’t after him. He was after me.

  “Look, cave boy, I wasn’t asking your permission,” I hissed back, jabbing him in the chest. I knew he was scared, that he loved me and my death would mean more suffering for him, but I was really tired of being treated like I was helpless. “If I don’t do something he’s going to kill me anyway. I would rather go down fighting, if it’s all the same to you, Nathan.”

  He glared at me for another minute and then made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat and turned and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him with enough force to crack the plaster in web-like lines that radiated from the doorframe in every direction.

  We were really going to have to work on that temper of his.

  I gazed at the door for a second, all the anger draining from me as quickly as it had come, then took a deep breath and turned back to face Grams and Tyler. I thought I saw a flash of sympathy in Tyler’s eyes—though whether it was for me or for Nathan I really couldn’t say—before he looked away and began shuffling through his papers again.

  “We’ll get started on this tomorrow,” Grams said, reading over the papers Tyler was passing her way like nothing had happened. “I need to get everything we will need and plan the best way to teach you the ritual before Friday night. While I’m doing that, someone will have to retrieve the remains.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Tyler said, raising his hand in case we didn’t get the point that he had just volunteered for yet another mission to rescue me. When he saw how we were both smiling at him, he actually blushed. “Well, not on my own. I’m going to need the cave boy’s help. I think I’ll wait until he calms down to bring that up, though.”

  I sat there and listened to Grams and Tyler talk about ritual stuff for the next fifteen minutes, unable to make sense of anything they were saying, and realized just how far into the deep end I had just swum. I was barely a witch, and I was going to have to not only summon a demon, but figure out a way to get him to walk into some kind of trap.

  What I wouldn’t have given to have just been going to the Black and White Ball to, oh, I don’t know…dance, maybe.

  “If we know what to do now, why do we need to wait until the dance?” I asked, breaking into the conversation going on between Grams and Tyler. “Seriously, why wait? It would be nice to use the dance as some kind of celebration instead, don’t you think?”

  “Because it has to be done during a Blue Moon,” Tyler explained with a sad smile. “Blue Moons only occur every three or four years. And the next one will be—”

  “Friday night,” I grumbled, shaking my head. “Do you think I’m ever going to catch a break?”

  Grams looked at me, her eyes softening at the completely desolate expression on my face, and reached over to pat my hand.

  “It won’t always be so hard, sweetheart,” she murmured, her eyes looking suspiciously moist. “You’ve just had a run of really bad luck, that’s all. It will balance itself out once this whole thing blows over.”

  Yeah, sure. I believed that about as much as I believed in Santa Claus.

  Blake teleported Kim—who had miraculously slept through Nathan’s award-winning temper tantrum—back to her house around five, and I had to promise to call and let him know exactly what we were going to do…and why…and how…and when…before he would leave. I waited for Nathan until the sun was peeking up over the horizon, listening as Grams and Tyler planned out my every move for the next week. When my eyelids finally slid shut and stayed that way, Tyler swept me up, carrying me to Nathan’s room and tucking me into the big, empty bed alone.

  When I woke up and realized I was still alone, I didn’t know whether to be furious or worried. What if something had happened to him? What if Bastian had decided to start slicing and dicing a little earlier than scheduled? That thought was enough to launch me out of the bed like a cannonball. Still in the shorts I always wore to bed, I grabbed one of Nathan’s old, faded sweatshirts off the shelf in the closet and let myself quietly out of the room.

  I peeked into Grams’ room to see her sleeping peacefully. Closing the door behind me, I made my way down the hall. The living room was as empty as Nathan’s side of the bed had been, but the drugging scent of coffee was wafting from the kitchen, drawing me in and making my mouth water.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” Tyler greeted me with a smile as I made my way toward the coffee pot. “Sleep well?”

  “Sleep at all?” I countered, pouring myself a cup of coffee and lacing it liberally with sugar and creamer.

  “Nah, it’s overrated.”

  Standing up and stretching like a cat, he grabbed his cup and walked over to join me for another cup of liquid energy. Once his cup was full to the brim with straight black coffee, he turned and leaned against the counter, studying me.

  “You don’t sleep?” I asked, shifting my weight
from one foot to the other as the cold ceramic tile made me wish I had thought to put on some socks.

  “Nope.”

  He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal and I just shook my head. I couldn’t imagine not being able to sleep, not being able to escape my reality for just a little while. But Tyler acted like it was the most natural thing in the world not to have the peace of letting his mind rest, of not being able to lose himself in his dreams.

  Not that my dreams had been anything I wanted to get lost in lately, either.

  “He’s all right, you know,” Tyler murmured, lifting his cup to take a sip.

  “Who?” I asked, pretending to play dumb.

  “Ashley,” he said, smiling and rolling his eyes. “You’re not really going to tell me you weren’t worried, are you?”

  “Nathan’s a big boy, he can take care of himself,” I told him, shrugging like I wasn’t tied up in knots over the fact that Nathan hadn’t come home. “He’s just pouting.”

  “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Tyler asked, frowning at me over the rim of his coffee cup. “Look at it through his eyes for a second. He can’t help you, Ember. Not with this. Can you imagine being as powerful as he is and being absolutely powerless to save someone you love more than you love yourself?”

  Looked at that way, Nathan’s end of the deal did kind of suck. Since Nathan wasn’t a witch, he wouldn’t be able to help us during the ritual to get rid of Bastian. One of the most powerful guys on our team would be on the bench, watching everyone he cared about risk their lives. As hard as what I was going to do was, it was nothing compared to what he would have to do.

  Rather than admit Tyler was right, I walked over to the table to take a look at what he’d been doing. There had to have been ten open books covering the surface and I could see he had started making notes. Curious, I leaned over to see what he had come up with and he snatched the legal pad from under my nose.

  “That’s not research,” he said, his cheeks looking suspiciously pink as he tore off the first three or four pages and folded them up before shoving them in his back pocket.

  “Love letters?” I guessed playfully, sitting down at the table and curling up, ready to talk about something other than rituals and monsters for a little while.

  “More like my own way of struggling to accept the things I can’t change,” he said sadly, shrugging and pulling his books back toward him.

  I sat there and sipped my coffee for a long time, watching as he flipped pages in his books and scribbled notes, trying to figure him out. How many secrets were hidden behind that handsome face? God, that had to be a lonely existence, not having anyone to share your secrets with other than a notebook. Secrets and lies. That’s what I was starting to think immortality amounted to.

  “Tyler, when are you going to tell me the truth?” I asked without meaning to.

  “I always tell you the truth, beautiful,” he said, looking up to frown at me.

  “Then tell me what you are,” I countered, knowing already that I was going to be disappointed.

  Sighing, he put down his pen and reached for my hand instead. For a long moment he just stared at our hands, his thoughts playing across his features and yet still managing to give no hint of what they might be. He was totally unreadable…and, yet, I felt like I’d known him forever. I wanted him to trust me enough to share his secrets with me. I just didn’t know how to get past the defenses he had up around him that made the Great Wall of China look like a bunch of kid’s blocks in comparison.

  “I want to tell you, Em,” he said, softly. “I just…it’s complicated.”

  “No, it’s not,” I argued, rolling my eyes. “Allow me to demonstrate. I’m a blood witch—and a terrible one at that—who is a magnet for every weird and dangerous thing that wanders onto the same continent as me. I know more dead people than live ones, my boyfriend is a vampire, and my two best friends are even weirder than I am. And don’t even get me started on my Grams.

  “See?” I asked him, grinning, when he shook his head and smiled at me. “Dude! It’s simple. You try it.”

  “Em, it’s not that easy,” he said, his smile slipping away again. “I want to tell you, I really do, but I’m afraid—”

  A loud knock at the door interrupted what he was about to say and I felt a jab of frustration. What had he been about to say? He was afraid I wouldn’t like him anymore? He was afraid I wouldn’t understand? More questions I wasn’t getting an answer to, because he let go of my hand and picked up his pen again as if he hadn’t just left me hanging.

  “You might want to get that,” he said, smiling gently at me when the doorbell started to ring to go along with someone kicking the door.

  Knowing I wasn’t going to get any more out of him, I left Tyler to whatever he was doing and went to answer the door. I was glad it was the front and not the door to the garage. I had a feeling that exit was permanently closed to the public thanks to my hot-headed mate. When I threw open the door and saw Kim standing on the steps, her arms full of bags and something that looked terrifyingly like a sparkly pair of pink wings, I had to fight back a groan.

  “Well, are you going to let me in?” she asked when I just stood and looked at her for a few seconds. “We were supposed to get ready for Senior Goof Week today. You didn’t forget, did you, Em?”

  I groaned anyway. I had hoped she would forget. Senior Goof Week was like some form of torture that should be outlawed—like having bamboo shoots shoved under your fingernails or electroshock therapy. Seriously, I’m just not that creative. Coming up with some outrageous outfit for each day of the week is the closest to torture I ever want to get.

  Rather than say that, I stepped back and motioned for her to come on in. Tyler looked up from his book only long enough to wave distractedly to Kim and then he was lost again. Kim gave me a questioning look, but I shook my head and pointed down the hall to my room.

  “Did I miss something?” Kim asked uneasily as I closed the door behind us.

  “Loads, since you sleep like the dead. And, in this house, that is really saying something,” I muttered, rolling my eyes and plopping down on the bed. Not feeling up to going over it just then, I decided to distract her. “What’s in the bags?”

  “Since you had so much on your plate already with Bastian, I took care of your Spirit Week costumes.” Her smile was downright gleeful and I felt a knot of unease begin to form in my stomach. At this rate, I was going to have an ulcer the size of the Grand Canyon. “I know how much you hate playing dress up, so I figured if I didn’t take matters into my own hands you would miss out on all the fun. Therefore, voila! Costumes!”

  Okay, for those of you who go to schools where people are normal—are there any of those left? —Senior Goof Week is pretty much a week-long costume party. It started out as a prank by the football players back in the eighties. Back then, only the seniors dressed up like a bunch of idiots. Over the years, it had grown to include everyone from the freshmen up. There is a different theme for each day of the week leading up to the Black and White Ball, though, and most of them are devised to torment the creatively challenged. The student with the best costume for that day gets a gift certificate and their picture in the yearbook under the heading ‘Most Spirited’.

  I could just imagine what Kim had come up with. My eyes fell on the sparkly wings again and I actually gulped. What kind of costume required sparkly, hot pink wings? Preparing myself for the worst, I settled back and watched as Kim dove into the overstuffed bags and emerged with four different costumes.

  Monday: Hippie Day. The costume really wasn’t that bad. It was just a flower and peace sign designed baby doll tee, a pair of hip hugger bell bottoms Kim had rescued from her mom’s old stuff in the attic along with a fringed leather jacket, a flowered belt and a pair of soft leather moccasins. Add to that a daisy headband, dangly peace sign earrings, and a pair of round, blue tinted glasses, and I was hippi-fied.

  Tuesday: Roaring 20s. I laughed for the first time
all day as she pulled out a short white, fringed flapper dress that would literally shimmy every time I took a step and a white feathered headpiece. To finish off the display was a black feather boa and black, patent leather, Mary Jane stacks.

  Wednesday: Duct Tape Day. Kim really went all out for that one. She had stolen a pair of my jeans—or rescued them from the tons I had left at her house—and turned them into a multicolored, multi-patterned disaster using patterned, colored, duct tape that she had found God knows where. To go with it was a long sleeved stretch cotton t-shirt that was decorated to match and even a purse and scrunchy made out of duct tape. She had obviously had a ball with that particular project.

  Thursday: Mythical Creature Day. I groaned loudly when she pulled out the costume she fully intended for me to wear—on pain of death, I was sure. She laid it all out on the bed for me and stood back, looking very smug, indeed. The picture it made was actually kind of creepy. It looked like a fairy had just disintegrated on my bed and left her clothes behind.

  I supposed it would, though, considering that was exactly what Kim expected me to be.

  Before me was a short, light pink skirt, a matching corset top with hot pink laces, matching sleeves, and a shiny pink headband. Add to that a pair of ballet slippers and a sparkly pink wand and you get the picture. I groaned again when Kim, laughing now, reached over and hit a tiny button on the hot pink fairy wings and they lit up and started blinking.

  “Did you forget that I have red hair when you bought all that pink?” I asked, rolling my eyes. When she just kept laughing, I tried again. “Kim, I am not wearing that.”

  Finally, though, I started laughing, too. Those wings were just too damned funny. That was how Nathan found us a few minutes later, slouched against the headboard of the bed and laughing so hard we were crying. He stopped in the doorway, looking confused and a little worried, and then caught sight of the fairy costume on the bed and the ridiculous blinking wings—and blinking wand, a fact that Kim had demonstrated once I started laughing—and started laughing himself.