I was suddenly struck by what I’d learned– that he’d eaten the heart of a witch to absorb her magicconsequence-free. No brokennoses, no bloodied eyes. Just the last scraps of someone else’smagic before it ebbed away. And he was going to do the same to me,wasn’t he? He was going to drag me off somewhere quiet, draw thatpowerful glinting blade from his pocket, and slice methrough.
All I could think about was Max. Though apart of me feared for his safety, the rest was confident enough inhis strength that it knew he would have fought off those darklings.He would be out there, somewhere. My only hope was that he wastrying to track me down.
… Or would he bother? Because I’d broughtthis on myself, hadn’t I? I had turned from my abilities, and now Iwas here being dragged into the darkness by a murderer. A murdererwho, if I’d acted sooner, I could have stopped. For, for all Iknew, if I’d followed the sparks when they’d appeared in my bed,they would have led me to some new all-important clue aboutFarley.
I could have prevented this. But I’dchosen to run. Now I would die.
That conclusion shook through we with suchunmistakable certainty, I gave into it.
Chapter 11
Farley led me through the darkened, narrowcorridors behind the bar. I caught glimpses of rooms stacked withalcohol, spare chairs, tables lying on their sides. But I alsocaught glances of rooms stacked with plastic – the same plastic I’dseen in that god-awful factory.
I longed to know what the hell washappening – who Fagan was, what deal was going down at thedocks.
Which was crazy. Now wasn’t the time to beinquisitive about anything, unless it was finding a way toescape.
Farley was relentless. He didn’t bother tosay another word, didn’t bother to taunt me as he tugged me downthat hallway. I got used to the feel of his hand on my lips. It was locked there so tightly, it was like it wastrying to meld with my lips and teeth.
Though my eyes kept darting fromleft-to-right, almost asif they alone had the hope Max would find me, no one came to myaid.
Finally, Farley managed to make it all theway to the door out back of the bar.
He hesitated when we reached the backdoor. I could hear the sound of cars beyond, of people. A thrill ofhope exploded through my heart. If someone saw me, they could callthe police, do something.
But no one saw me.
Because Farley didn’t open the door to thestreet.
He tore that musty hand from over my mouth and reachedthrough the collar of his shirt. I felt him fumble around, knucklesdragging across my back as he searched for something on a chainaround his neck. Though I tried to scream, again it felt as if mylips were sewn shut. As I concentrated, I swore I could feel thestitches locking them in place. They were not made out of string,but rather out of charges of prickling magic.
As Farley searched, I felt a few specks ofblood from his nose drip against my neck.
I shivered and gagged.
Farley let out a hiss of satisfaction as he obviously foundwhat he was looking for.
He yanked something off the chain aroundhis neck, and I heard it tinkle by my ear.
Suddenly, from back towards the bar, Iheard angry shouts. Desperate footfall,too.
Farley yanked his head hard to the left,and with his front pressed up against mine, I felt theunmistakable pound of hisfrantic heart.
As the angry shouts drew closer, I caughtseveral words.
It was Fagan’s men, and they were lookingfor us.
Farley swore under his breath, but he didnot pause. He shoved a large, ornate key into the lock of the doorbefore us. The key was larger than the lock, and yet, somehow, asFarley pushed it towards the lock, the key became smaller,shrinking in size until it fitted perfectly.
Charges of invisible magic filled the air,covering the door and crackling with such force it was as if theywere a waterfall pounding down all around me.
Just before the pounding footfall behindcould reach us, Farley bolted forward and opened thedoor.
It did not open onto the street beyond withall the cars and people. Instead?
Instead, it opened onto a forest.
I felt the grass beneath me, thedew-covered blades soft and cold beneath my bare, chafed feet.
Around me, I caught the scent of pineneedles, of disturbed dirt.
And yet, I could still hear the angryfootfall from behind, still hear thedesperate shouts.
But a second later, Farley slammed the doorshut. Then we were alone. In the forest.
I felt Farley take an enormous, relievedbreath that pushed his chest against my back. “Finally. Time to getthis done, ha?” He leaned in close by my cheek and said theword ha, his breathbrushing my messy hair across my cheek.
My eyes pulsed wide.
I felt him reach around to something in hispocket. Heard the unmistakable sound of metal being withdrawn froma sheath.
I… was going to die.
I. Was. Going. To. Die.
Just as the true horror of the situationtook hold and the last of my hope departed me, I felt something. Anopportunity. A shadow of a chance.
Those sparks. I did not see them explode through my vision asthey had before. They did not rush to my rescue, ready to show methe future and save my life. Instead, it was as if I heard an echoof them. Just a hint that they were still there, somewhere, justbeyond my reach.
I screamed in my mind, begged them toreturn to me. Told them I would doanything, anything if only they would savemy life.
Anything. Anything.
… I’d done this. I’d lied, and now the cursewas going to get me, wasn’t it?
Max’s warning was the only thing I could hear echoing in mymind as I felt Farley draw a knife around, as I saw its glintingtip in a slice of moonlight.
I was a liar, and yet I didn’t think I wasa bad person. Maybe Max did, maybe my grandmother had thought so.Maybe that didn’t matter.
I was not a badperson. A little whitelie here and there wouldn’t kill you.
But a big one apparently would slit youfrom ear-to-ear.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I realized justhow unfair this was.
I felt Farley bring
