He pulls his hand back, preparing to toss the match into the surrounding crop. Jeanna and I take a measured step back.
“James!”
In unison, we all shift toward the sound. John rushes forward, his sights set on his younger brother, James. James yelps and jumps back, dropping the match. Embers break into a rush of flames, swirling up the nearest sugarcane stock. With a pop of combustion, the burning spreads like wildfire.
John leaps over the flames. Slams his clenched fist into James’s face.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
James collapses to the ground, cradling his damages. Jeanna jumps on top of John and slams her fists into his side.
“Leave him alone,” she hollers.
John knocks her off and over. “Both of you, stay down.” His attention shifts from them to me. His finger rising to a hold between us.
James’s whispered spell is in full force, the fire spreading like a wall around us. The smell of burning paper choking my lungs. Only, the enemy has not been held on the opposite side of the blaze. John stands among us.
Another jumps through the flames and stands a few feet away. The fire shifts back upon us, crowds us, in an attempt to fulfill the spell cast.
James stirs and John smacks his steel-toed shoe into his brother’s gut. “Don’t move,” he yells, then glues his stare on me. He says no words, but the shake of his head and the sharpness of his glare speak volumes. Stand down and stay still, his body language commands.
But how can I possibly comply when the fire moves to harm, confused by the spell and our vicinity to the enemy?
At John’s back, Jeanna pulls her magickal emergency kit from her pocket, flips open the tin. The other man who had crossed the fire drops on her. Grabs the kit. Tosses it away.
My friends are down, in need of help. And fire rages around us, may soon consume us, along with the enemy.
Throwing my arms wide and tilting my face to the sky, I call to the elements. “Water, wind, earth, and fire, heal this land upon which we stand.” Shouts call out around me, and a shift of weight wiggles within my apron. My spices rise from the pockets and soar into the air.
“Stop her,” someone yells.
Above us, clouds begin to form.
A body slams into me, and I take a hard crack to the side of my skull. My eyes flutter. Rain begins to fall. And the world falls dark.
My eyes blink open and shut, capturing disjointed images. A darkened sky. Rising smoke. Falling water.
How long was I out? five seconds? Twenty?
I’m being carried away from the field, but I can’t focus and I have the urge to puke. One of the Bokor’s goons has me. He drops me into a box. Metal. The world disappears with a thump, encasing me in something cold, dark, hard, and smelling of gasoline. A trunk? My hand presses to the side of my head and I moan.
“Belle.” Jeanna shakes my side. “Are you alright?”
“Where are we?” I ask and silently wish for an aspirin.
“In the trunk of a car.” She clenches my arm. “They took James.”
“Took James where?” I roll over to face her and the surrounding darkness swirls. I clench my teeth.
“No idea.” She shifts onto her back and stares up at the closed trunk lid.
I throw my fists at the surrounding metal. “Let us out,” I whimper.
The engine roars to life, and the vehicle lurches forward. Sparks a ringing in my head. It rings and rings, finally settling into a dull hum.
“I hope Luna and her dad got away,” I whisper.
“I didn’t see them,” Jeanna says. “So, there’s hope.”
The drive of the car shifts from rough to smooth, signaling a change in the road on which we ride. We ride and ride. Sometimes, I rest my eyes. Press against the throbbing in my head. The drive continues for so long, I begin to believe it may never end and it’s a nightmare I am trapped within, not reality. Or hallucinations induced by the mild exhaust fumes. A lump rises behind my ear and the swell of blood pushes against my consciousness.
“We’ve stopped.” Jeanna grabs my wrist and squeezes.
The car has indeed stopped. The engine killed. The chassis rocks, likely with the removal of passengers. The milling of footsteps and mumbles moves about the exterior of the car.
A click and tumble.
The trunk lid flies to an open.
“Get out,” a man orders.
Two men reach into the trunk and yank me and Jeanna from the space, thrust us toward a bland building with nothing more than a door, a few long and short windows set high along the wall. John leads the way, James held firmly in his grasp.
I lurch forward, bow to the ground, honoring the rising desire to vomit, though nothing comes. I heave a breath and search for my center of gravity—My grounded core.
“You guys alright?” James asks, glancing over his shoulder at us.
“Shut it.” John yanks James hard to his side.
Sorry, James mouths and turns his attention forward. One of the henchmen pushes at my back. With John tugging at James and another man shoving me, Jeanna sandwiched between us, my friends and I are ushered into a semi-large and dingy room. The walls are dark wood, the windows dim with the night sky, and the floor, a hard, cold grey concrete. A few chairs fill positions along the wall, and single bulb light fixtures hang from above. Their weak illumination hardly lifting the flavor of the space. The four bokor’s men fill in around us.
My quick assessment of the space informs me, that aside from the exit at our back, there are two more doors on the opposite wall. The
