Dark Heart of Magic (Black Blade #2)(60)

So Vance had been back here after all. But the weird thing was that part of the feather was dark and wet as though it had been doused in something sticky. I frowned and stuck the feather out into the beam of Felix’s flashlight.

Blood glistened on it.

Felix cursed and almost dropped his flashlight. Devon whirled around, shining his own light back and forth, his sword up and ready in case a monster came charging out of the trees toward us. We all held our breath, but nothing happened.

And I realized that I hadn’t heard any natural sounds the whole time we’d been walking. No trolls chattering in the trees, no rockmunks scurrying through the bushes, not even some bullfrogs bellowing out a low, steady chorus.

The woods were quiet—too quiet.

My stomach twisted. I knew what we were going to find, and so did Devon and Felix, from the worried looks on their faces. I got to my feet, and they came over and shined their flashlights all around the area where I’d found the feather. About five feet away, I spotted another one, and then another one a few feet beyond that.

All of them were covered in blood.

I tightened my grip on my sword and followed the blood-and-feather trail. Fifty feet deeper into the woods, I rounded a tree and there he was.

Vance.

He was sitting up against the trunk of a blood persimmon tree, ripe fruit littering the ground around him, and a sweet, sticky scent filling the air. Vance’s legs were splayed out in front of him as if he’d had too much to drink and was sleeping it off out here in the middle of nowhere.

“Vance!” Devon called out, hurrying over to his side. “There you are! We were worried about you—”

His flashlight beam fell on Vance, and the words died on his lips. Vance’s blue eyes were wide open in pain and fear, and his hands were zip-tied together. His cavalier hat was clutched to his stomach, feathers and all, as if he’d used it to try and stop the blood loss from the deep, vicious cut visible through his white shirt.

And it wasn’t the only one.

Almost a dozen cuts marred Vance’s arms, chest, and legs, the red wounds looking almost like the black greasepaint a football player would swipe across his skin. A piece of duct tape had been slapped over his mouth to muffle his screams, and his eyes were already cold and glassy.

Dead—Vance was dead.

Murdered.



We all stared at Vance. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but it felt like forever. Finally, Devon let out a vicious curse, got to his feet, and ran his hand through his dark hair.

“Who . . . who would do this?” he demanded. “And why? Vance might not have been the nicest guy, but he didn’t deserve this.”

Felix shook his head and clutched his stomach. He looked like he was going to be sick. Yeah. Me too.

I let out a tense breath. “Let me try something. We can’t help Vance now, but maybe we can at least figure out who did this to him.”

“How?” Devon asked.

I told him and Felix about what I’d seen and felt when I’d looked into the eyes of the murdered tree troll that we’d found beside the dumpster off the Midway.

Devon frowned. “And you think that has something to do with this?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s all I can do for Vance now.”

He nodded. “Do it.”

So I sank down on my knees in front of Vance. Devon and Felix moved their lights so that they were focused on Vance’s chest instead of glaring straight into his face. I drew in another breath, let it out, and moved over so that my eyes were directly in front of Vance’s.

My gaze locked with his, and his pain knifed straight through my heart.

Over and over again, a dagger lashed out, cutting Vance’s arms and legs and chest. Every time he tried to move, to run, to get away, he would see the black gleam of the dagger out of the corner of his eye. Then the weapon would erupt out of the shadows and slice into him again—and again—and again.

He couldn’t yell, not with that duct tape over his mouth, and he couldn’t fight back, since his hands were tied together. But I could hear his silent screams in my head as he staggered through the woods. No, no, no, no!

And that wasn’t the only thing I could hear.

Soft, heartless laughter accompanied every single swipe of the blade, and it didn’t stop. Not even for a second. Instead, the laughter got louder and louder, the more pain Vance was in, the more cuts were inflicted on him, the more he suffered.

It was the most horrible sound I’d ever heard.

I gasped, trying to look away from Vance’s sightless eyes, desperate to wrench my gaze from his, but I couldn’t—I just couldn’t.

A choked sob escaped my lips, and more and more pain spread through my entire body, tearing through my skin and muscles one at a time as though that dagger were slicing through me instead of Vance—

Suddenly, Devon was there, pulling my face into his chest and away from Vance’s awful, awful gaze.

“It’s okay,” Devon said, rocking me back and forth the way he might a child. “It’s okay. It happened to him, not you. You’re safe, Lila. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

I buried my face against his chest, not even trying to hold back my sobs anymore. Devon’s hand slid through my hair, trying to soothe me. I shuddered and let him hold me.

But all the while, that terrible, terrible laughter echoed in my head.