Destiny Divided (15 page)

“I’m sorry James.” H
er voice sounded strained from swallowing back her emotions. “That’s exactly the problem. You want to possess me. You wouldn’t have it any other way. And I don’t want to be possessed. Go back to Caerwyn. Find an honorable sorceress to love. We both know that’s what you’ll want in the end. I’m just a good fuck along the way.”

His eyes darkened
to a deep blue, ire rising in them. He tried, for the first time, to break out of the restraints.

Sage held her breath
, half-expecting him to manage it. But when he couldn’t, she grinned.

“Is that all of your questions?” he sn
apped.

“Yes.”

“Then release me.” His tone demanded obedience, but she didn’t have time for power games.

She stood up and searched through the bags
for the rest of the items she needed to pack.

“Sage…” he warned.

“I can’t James. You’d only stop me.”

He didn’t
sound worried, only angry. He probably still thought he could break free. “Stop you from what?”

“Leaving.” She placed three water bottles and all the snacks they’d packed into her backpack.

“Why,
cariad
?”

She turned to face him. “What does that mean?
Cariad?
”

“I already told you.”

“Verbatim, in Welsh?”

Reluctantly, he answered, “It means
love.”

“Then it’s a good thi
ng I’m leaving.” She turned to finish packing, and muttered to herself, “Before it’s too late.”

“This rope won’t last the hour,
cariad
. You won’t even get halfway down the mountain before I break free.”

“It’s got an enchanted loc
k.”

He’d already drunk a paralyzing potion but she wasn’t going to tell him that yet. Knowing he would be unable to move a single muscle
, but still be conscious for the next three days was bound to put him in a foul mood.

“You’ve been reading the sorcerer’s book, ha
ven’t you? I’d be proud, and maybe even a little turned on, if you weren’t trying to subdue me and sneak away. Where are you going anyway?”

She flashed him a smile over her shoulder
. “What kind of runaway would I be if I told you that? Now be a good prisoner and be quiet.”

“You know I’ll find you, right? And quickly. It will only take me half a day to hack through the lock spell then I’ll pick up
your trail by nightfall.” He may still have been acting like this was a minor inconvenience, but she could hear the tension in his voice. “And I’m not going to be happy about all of this.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve set up precautions.”

“Precautions? Like what?”

She spun
to face him. Looking him in the eye was the least she could do. She wouldn’t hide from his anger. “A paralyzing potion. It should kick in, in about,” she glanced at the time on her phone, “ten minutes.”

A dozen e
motions flickered over his face, landing on a barely contained forbidding graveness. It was frightening.

“Sage,
don’t do this.” He may have sounded calm but underneath that cool voice was a tornado of rage.

Retribution would be severe. Good thing she didn’t plan on sticking around for it.

With a cheery tone, she reassured him, “You’ll be fine. It’s only three days. You’re out of the sun and your elixir will be here after the three days. It will give me enough of a head start so you won’t find me.”

His nostrils flared
. “I will always find you. I will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

She
patted his cheek. “I guess that’s to be seen. But your tenacity is charming. It almost makes up for the fact that you intended to use me without my knowledge for your own ambitions.”

“Where did you get the potion?”

“Maddox gave me the truth serum. The paralyzing potion, well,
if
you find me, I guess you can follow up on your threat to strip search me.”

He smiled without humor.
“There’s no
if
about it
, cariad
. Make no mistake,
when
I find you, you will wish you had let me go.”

Something
gleamed under his lip. She leaned in to take a closer look. His fangs were drawn. It seemed she’d rattled the ever-composed Professor James Elias.

She grinned and
James gave her a murderous glare. But he didn’t beg and she respected him for it.

God help her if he did catch her.
Unwilling to think of that scenario, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Bye, James.”

She slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked out of the cave without a backward glance.

James didn’t know it
yet, but Sage had also stolen his car keys. If leaving him paralyzed in a cave for three days wasn’t enough to piss him off, the condition of his two year old prized Lexus after speeding down the rocky dirt road was sure to. But she wasn’t in the mood to hitchhike. With no plan for where to go, she pulled out a map and headed toward the only place she knew anybody. Albany.

Driving through Massachusetts was pleasant th
at time of year. The quaint towns were alluring despite her being a city girl to the core. It was a nice break from New York. Even though the two states bordered each other, they had a very different feel.

She’
d spent years living in “The Student Ghetto” – a gritty, crime infested part of northern Albany. Massachusetts was no paradise but comparatively, it was like a breath of fresh air.

How long would it take to get to Albany? Maybe she’d see Erin that night. Lost in thoughts of a happy reunion, she meandered down Route 114.

Suddenly, an odd sensation overwhelmed her. She almost crashed the car into the nearest telephone pole. Her stomach clenched with nerves. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A prickling started in her fingers and toes. Something about where she was headed felt eerily familiar. But she’d never been that far south in Mass. What the hell was going on?

It was
lonely on the long stretch of winding road bordered by thick forest. A town sign came into view.

Now entering Salem.

She rolled her eyes. Of course. Cause she was a witch, right? Maybe her ancestors were calling to her from their graves.

She let out an annoyed huff then sped until the speedometer was pushing sixty-five. She drove through Salem, shi
vering over and over as the prickly sensation grew stronger. But she was determined to get the hell out of there – do not stop at go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

She shuddered, picturing
dead puritan witches rising from their graves and hobbling toward her.

No more horror movies for her.

Where she was supposed to make a left at an intersection leaving town, she felt an unyielding urge to go right. She fought as hard as she could against the magnetic pull, but the more she fought, the more it hurt – like her skin was being stretched painfully over her bones. With an angry curse, she finally gave in, hoping the side trip would be worth it.

“
Maybe I’ll pick up a souvenir or two,” she grumbled.

I
nstinct led her through the downtown tourist spots, then back onto a winding forested road, finally turning her down a dead end.

Knowing her luck, it was probably the exact spot the witch trials
had taken place. She shuddered again. The magnetism intensified when she spied a driveway attached to a small cottage.

With a sigh, she turned in then
stopped halfway up. She stared at the house, hoping for a sign of familiarity. It wasn’t anything conscious, but
something
was pulling her there. Not able to leave without at least knocking on the door, she fought back any hesitation and jumped out of the car.

“L
et’s get this over with.”

As soon as she stepped towards
the house, it all became clear.

Witches.
She could feel them. She could smell them. She could sense their power. Interesting. Her witchy senses were tingling.

The second thought came like a mental shove through a wall.
Her mother. Unexplainably, she knew a blood relative resided here. Her blood was crying out for the connection. Her body did indeed know something her mind did not. This was where her family lived.

Guarded, but with newfound enthusiasm, she marched to the front door. Before she could
knock, she fell through the ground then landed with a painful thud onto a concrete floor.

Trap door. How welcoming
.

She
jumped to her feet and assessed her surroundings, looking for a possible escape route although she didn’t feel threatened, despite the booby trap. The corridor where she’d landed was dark but there was light up ahead.

S
taying close to the wall, she crept toward the lit room at the end of the tunnel. She was getting an underground dungeon feel from the whole experience. The trap door may have had something to do with that.

She reached the lighted room with no major surprises – though the room itself was a bit of a surprise.
Novelty lights were strung up around the ceiling – flamingos, Corona bottles, and Christmas lights. The furniture was worn but cozy. Bookshelves lined the walls filled up with books, candles, and incense that made her sneeze. It looked just like a cozy den for witches.

“Who sent you,
witch?” a whispered feminine voice asked from behind her.

Snuck up on by a girl?
Where were her witchy senses then?

She spun toward the voice and was met by a pale-skinned girl with a head full of curly, orange hair.
The gorgeous mystery girl stared at Sage with such intensity that she almost forgot the girl was waiting for an answer.

“Uhhh…” she
answered poetically.

A
nother mysterious voice interrupted her, this time to her right.

“I bet it was the ghouls getting back at us for the exo
rcist we sent to their house.”

“
Oooh! Maybe she's a singing telegram!” said another voice.

“Maybe she’s a stripping telegram!” a fourth chimed in.

“Maybe she’s a singing strip-o-gram!”

Her
head spun. “Enough!” She’d been joined by four girls, all about her age, standing in a semi-circle around her. “I’m not any of those.”

“Aw
w…” three of them chimed in unison, as if disappointed there wouldn’t be a strip show.

“Then what
do you want?” the fierce orange-haired girl snapped.

“I’m lookin
g for someone.” Her muscles tensed with a feeling of being trapped.

“She’s not here
.”

“But you don’t even –
”

A sword at her throat cut off her protest.
The bitchy orange-haired witch held the hilt and stared down the length at her. “I said she’s not here.”

Without a second thought, Sage lit her own sword and swung it across the one at her
neck. The tip fell onto the floor with a thud.

The witch
hissed in a breath and narrowed her eyes but Sage could see a flicker of fear. She couldn’t hold back a small smirk.

“Whoa! She’s no ordinary
witch,” one girl said.

“She’s a sorcer
ess,” someone added. All four girls made a variety of sounds of disgust.

Sage scowled.

“Those uptight dickwads? No way!” a blonde girl said. “She’s too badass. She smells like vampire.” Her eyes lit up. “Bet she screwed one.” She bit her lip and raked her gaze over Sage’s body.

“Maybe
she’s
a vampire,” the brunette next to her said.

“I’m not,” Sage said
. “I’m a sorceress, yes, but I’m also a witch. And I’m looking for my mother.”

“What’s her name?” one asked.

“I don’t know,” Sage admitted and extinguished her sword.

“How can you find her if you don’t know her name?” the same girl asked.

They stared at her curiously.

Good question.
“I-I guess I was hoping you would know.”

“We don’t know any nameless
witches,” the bitchy one snapped. Sage was beginning to dislike her.

“She’s not a
witch,” the blonde remarked. “She’s a switch!”

“No. A witcheress!” another girl said
, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Oh, good one!”

“What’s going on down here?” A new voice descended the stairs. “You’re not playing with the pizza delivery man again, are you?” A woman with long, silver hair pulled back in a low ponytail stepped into the semicircle and studied Sage’s face. “Who’s this?” she asked the girls.

The brunette
answered, “She’s a witcheress who’s looking for her mother.”

“But she doesn’t k
now her name,” another added.

The older woman scrutinized Sage with narrowed eyes as she took a step closer. “What’s your name?”

Figuring there was no reason to lie, not if she really wanted to find her mother, she told the truth. “Eirian Nathara. But everyone calls me Sage.”

The woman’s eye
s slowly widened as she stepped closer. She smelled vaguely familiar. Like patchouli and – she inhaled – cinnamon.

“Sage?
” she said. “Is that really you?”

She
blinked. “You know me? Then you know my mother?”

“Y
es, of course.” She smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth in the front. But her smile was so warm and friendly, Sage was ready to hug her. “She was my cousin.” She reached out as if to touch her face then withdrew her hand at the last second. “You look just like her.”

“Where is she? Does she live here?”

The woman’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Come. We have much to talk about.” She grabbed her hand pulled her up the stairs while the girls followed behind.

“Sh
e looks like hell,” someone whispered. “Maybe we should make her shower first.”

A
shower! Sage’s eyes welled up.