Fearless Magic (Star-Crossed #3)

Fearless Magic (Star-Crossed #3) Page 27

His hands, bleeding and raw, stayed tied, tightly behind his back; his ankles looked as though the skin was brutally torn away to the bone. He half laughed at the idea of restraints at all, he was too weak to move, let alone escape this new dungeon.

Outside his room he heard footsteps, the smart clicking of a stately walk, and knew what the next few moments would be like. He wanted to be afraid, he wanted to cringe in anticipation, he wanted to feel something, to feel anything, even fear.

But no emotions came, no sense of warning, no prickling in the neck. Not even his blood stirred. He was an empty shell, hollowed and beaten beyond recognition.

The old, wooden door opened, creaking at its hinges, pushing the loose straw that lay indiscriminately across the floor, towards the wall. In walked his captor, his tyrant, his king. He towered over the boy, his crooked crown glinting in the sunlight. The blessed light now tainted with evil and glaring in his eyes.

The king stood staring down at the boy, a sinister smile twisting his lips and his hard, blue eyes satisfied with victory. The boy's stomach lurched and the fear that he had been desperate for only moments before, came now in waves of panic. His numb, tingling hands began to tremble against their restraints and he vowed to himself that if something had happened to her, he would murder the immortal king himself, magic or no.

“Cheer up, dear boy,” the king commanded, “the cavalry has arrived.”

“What have you done with her,” the boy growled. Even bound and weak, he was still menacing and dangerous.

“I haven't done anything with her.... yet,” the king smirked. “But she has come!” He clasped his hands together in pure certainty, sure of his impending win. “She has finally realized that she cannot win, and she has come to make the trade. Your freedom for hers.”

“She has told you this?” the boy asked, not believing even a breath that was exhaled from the oppressor.

“Why else would she be here?” the king snapped, stomping his foot and demanding his prisoner's answer.

“I wouldn't know,” the boy stared at the ground, refusing the king's demand for attention. “But I highly doubt it's to rescue me. More likely, it has something to do with killing you,” he scoffed through a strained voice that struggled to reach above a whisper.

“Hmmm.... you're probably right,” the king agreed, more easily than the boy trusted. “At any rate, we know she is here, and we know exactly how to bait her out. Guards!” the king commanded, and the door opened immediately.

Three, strong, imposing men walked through the door, ominous simpers mimicked across every face. They glowered at the prisoner, hoping their king called them in for one reason alone.

“Make sure he looks nice and pretty for our guests,” the king ordered, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

----

I shot up in the darkness, bumping my head against a hard surface and grasping at everything around me. I took a moment to realize the ear-splitting screams piercing my ears, were coming from my mouth and clasped my hands firmly across my lips to silence them. My body trembled, drenched in sweat and stiff from sitting in the car too long.

I tried to hold still, to put the pieces together, but they were fleeing. This dream was more vivid, more cohesive than any of the others. There was more to it than fear, more to it than pain. There were moments of information, but they were slipping away before I could put them together.

I pounded my palm against my head, demanding that my brain work. I surged the electricity through my blood in weak attempts at forcing magic to make my mind obey. But the majority of my memories were gone, lost in the subconscious world I still shared with Avalon.

Avalon.

He was here.

In India.

The details of the dream fled and I would never nail down the specifics. But this nightmare was different from all the rest, this nightmare left an impression. In the moments where my mind drifted, where the subconscious took hold, I was back with Avalon, seeing through his eyes, feeling through his senses. And the only explanation for the new vividness had to be that we were closer together. He had to be here.

I looked around, wondering why someone hadn't asked me to keep quiet and realized we weren't moving. The van was parked, surrounded by exotic, Indian forestry and the sounds of the wild jungle calling out to each other in the darkness.

I looked around frantically, for a moment believing they abandoned me. The tingling sensation that alerted my blood that I was near Immortals prickled underneath my skin. I stepped out of the van, breathing in deeply the fresh, night air and spotted a campfire a little ways from where the van sat.

I stumbled through the darkness, too excited to bother with magic, toward the campfire, toward the gathered Resistance. The farther the dream flew from consciousness, the more sure I became that Avalon was here. He had no magic left, and the memories of nights awakened, screaming and clawing out in the darkness made my heart stop beating for fear of what he was suffering through. But I could still feel him, his blood, as weak and powerless as it was, still pumped in unison with mine. Not completely severed, our connection still searched each other out in moments of terrible struggle. He was my twin. My brother. And I could still feel him near.

I walked out of the deep vegetation into a circle of Immortals, laughing and talking quietly around a large fire. Jericho sat across the camp, conferring seriously with Gabriel and his reunited team members. I recognized none of the rest of the faces, representing a more global community than I expected.

The tight circle of the gathered rebellion buzzed with excited electricity. Wrapped in an invisible cloud of collective magic, they pulsated with the same purpose and drive. We were in this together. I didn't know them, and they didn't know me; some of them, might not even know each other. But we moved as one entity, with the same goal, the same dream and because of that, we could sit together in happy union for tonight, not knowing what the morning would bring.

And not afraid of the unknown.

I took a breath, inhaling the smoky campfire and drawing the attention of the group, interrupting their excited chatter with my magical presence. Quieting down and growing still they looked to me. I was supposed to be their leader, they were the ones following me and yet I came to petition them for advice.

I stared at them for a moment, wishing I possessed Avalon's strengths, wishing I could just call the Titan part of me forward and demand that it take control of the crowd. Instead, fear and uncertainty governed my emotions and even in front of people who stood with me, side by side, I couldn't find the courage to request a response.

“Avalon's here,” I blurted loudly, surprising most of them with information I should not rationally know.

“He's what?” Jericho stood up.

“He's here, he's in India,” Most of the rebellion knew about the telepathic connection Avalon and I shared. Before the tragic night at the farm, Amory trusted our secret with those that shared the mark of the Resistance. However, I was still sure that Lucan and his Guard were clueless to the open communication Avalon and I shared before he gave up his magic. With Sebastian sitting in the group tonight, I couldn't risk going into too many details and suddenly regretted my proclamation.

“How do you know?” A beautiful Indian girl asked, her long, shiny black hair pulled over her shoulder in a waist-length braid. With flawless skin, her perfect lips perpetuated a smile that she could not control and probably wasn't even conscious of. She was absolutely stunning, made even more exquisite by soft, pink eyes that shimmered in the darkness, almost glowing against the black backdrop of the jungle.

“I know, I just do. I know this sounds crazy and it's not something I can really explain.... But I know that he is here in the core of my being,” I said with a stronger voice than I had started with.

“Do you know where he is?” A Korean man asked, clean-cut, with short hair, and narrow lips. His deep green eyes, like the color of grass at night, bore into mine, hungry for information. He sat forward, ready for my answers, while holding the hand of a woman of a similar ethnicity. She had short black hair too, sleek and shining and high cheek bones that turned her smile into light. Her eyes were like Gabriel's, orange and glowing, but deeper, more burnt orange, like the color of leaves changing in the fall, than fire.

“No, not exactly. With Lucan, but that's all I know.” I shrugged my shoulders, wishing I had introduced myself, before I dumped my mysterious intelligence on these people. They were having a good time before I showed up.

“Well, Lucan is in the summer palace, we have been watching them for a week now,” A college-aged blonde woman explained; she sat in between the Asian couple and the Indian woman. I decided they had to be the India Team; they held the spirit of resilient camaraderie that Avalon shared with his team.

“Why are they here?” I asked, wondering what in the world Lucan would want with my brother in India.

“Well, that's why I called Jericho,” Xander stood up next to Jericho who had yet to sit back down after hearing the news that he was in the same country as Avalon. “Lucan always comes this time of year to oversee the Eternal Walks. However, from what we've, or rather Te and his team observed, the Walks are not working.” He gestured to the Asian man sitting with whom I assumed to be his wife, judging by the bulging diamond on her ring finger.

“Yes,” Te took over, “from what we've gathered, there doesn't seem to be any magic in the Caves, or at least what magic is there has refused to cooperate with Lucan. There is a whole batch of candidates for the walk and not one of them has been able to conjure the magic.”

“Oh, my gosh!” I shrieked, and the gathered Resistance collectively sat back, surprised by my outburst. “That is incredible!” I realized at that moment that the Caves would only answer to me from now on. My magic moved inside my blood, and not the electricity I could call my life's-blood, but the blue smoke, the healing magic I wrestled with inside those very Caves just months ago.

“Yes, it is,” Te agreed with me, stoically.

“What are you thinking, E?” Titus asked from across the fire.

“The plan is this,” I stated, making it sound simple, “We check out the Caves, first thing in the morning, and then rescue my brother right after, and then.... we get the hell out of here?” They sat in stunned silence, still just looking at me, but I was confident of my plan.

India was turning out to be a fantastic decision.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I woke up the next morning before the sun, too excited to stay still for long. Near my brother and hours from being with him, I could hardly contain my nervous energy. The rest of the group lay sleeping in tents scattered around the jungle clearing.

I sat up and stretched, almost kicking my tent mate in the head. Somehow, during the night, I had twisted all the way around so that my feet were now in Grace's face and my sleeping bag all the way unzipped.

Grace Lewis, the blonde, college-aged girl, on the India team and very familiar with the jungle. Originally from Canesburry where Jericho went to school, came to India to work with the poor in Calcutta. Amory recruited her for the Resistance almost a year ago, placing her on the a team with Te Che and his wife Pan, Naima Desai, the beautiful Indian girl, and Sunny Magar, an Indian man, who appeared to be middle-aged, but was probably much older, with specks of gray salting his thick, curly black hair and navy blue eyes, standing out against his freckled, dark, brown skin.