Keeper(89)

He motioned to the Guard who had seized Maggie by the shoulder, and he pushed her forward, the hands of the eager men waiting.

They pulled at her, an audible snap of jaws and competing snarls filling the air. As the men’s faces began changing into something more feral, Maggie’s cry erupted in my ears, catapulting me into action.

“Stop it!” I screamed, throwing my hands out in front of me. A pulse of energy shot through my fingertips. It expanded, the hazy wave rippling forward and engulfing the men who held Maggie. With a whoosh of air and the crack of lightning, the men flew backward, landing unconscious on the ground. Maggie was left standing, and though her dress was torn and she was visibly trembling, she was otherwise unharmed—save for the wound on her arm that still dripped blood.

I sagged, exhausted from the magic still effervescing underneath my skin.

The sound of laughter and applause brought my attention back to the Master. His face was full of joy, and he was applauding me along with the stunned crowd. “Yes, that’s more like it. But now, I’m being awfully rude. Come here, love, and tell my guests here who you are.” He held an arm open as if to embrace me warmly.

When I hesitated, the Master snapped his fingers. “Marek. If you will, please.”

Strong hands gripped my shoulders. I tore my gaze away from the Master and focused on the cold blue eyes staring into mine. Gone was the boy I had kissed in the rain, the one who had challenged me to a corndog-eating contest, who had danced with me like we were the only ones in the room. I didn’t recognize this person at all.

I yanked myself out of his grip. “Don’t touch me!” I sneered.

“Just do what he says, Lainey,” Ty replied, his voice cold, void of any emotion. For a brief second, something flashed in his eyes, but as quickly as it had come, it was gone, replaced with nothing by empty promises and lies.

I hate you, Tyler Marek.

He reached for me again, his hand on my arm. I yanked it away, reared back, and spat in his face. “You can burn in hell,” I said. My voice was strong, but my heart throbbed as I watched him merely reach up and wipe the spittle from his cheek.

The Master laughed. “My, aren’t you a spirited one?” He leaned forward. “Come now, love. I haven’t got all night.”

Seeing as I had no choice in the matter, I walked toward him and allowed him to wrap his arm around me and pull me close. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.

“Lainey Sty—” I said, staring out into the crowd. “Lainey DuCarmont.” Warmth bloomed inside me. It was the first time I’d claimed the name as my own. I smiled a little. That one’s for you, Jo.

The crowd began to murmur, their whispers rising to an audible murmur of concern and confusion. The word “DuCarmont” began to spread; like the call of a minor bird, its echo floated through the air.

“That’s right, darling.” The Master kissed the top of my head. “Lainey DuCarmont,” he said with a flourish, his voice loud and carrying. “The last remaining DuCarmont witch.” He motioned to one of the Guards, who nodded his head and left the room. Then he turned back to me. “I’ve been expecting you.”

I swallowed. “But how?” My heart ached with the answer I already knew, but I wanted to hear the Master say it out loud.

“Ah, ah, ah,” The master waved a finger at me. “Let us not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll spoil the surprise.” He winked at me then, tapping playfully at my nose. I fought the urge to bite his hand.

“My friends.” The Master’s voice boomed across the room. “Welcome. Tonight, as promised, will be truly magical, as you’re here to witness history in the making.” He laughed again, the maniacal sound loud in my ear.

The double doors to the ballroom opened, and the Guard had returned, carrying an ornate black wooden box in his hand, which he handed to the Master.

“My lord,” he said with a bow.

The Master released me and took the box from the Guard’s hand. He laughed again and opened the box before flipping it around for all to see.

My knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed.

Sitting inside the box on a cushion of blood-red crushed velvet was a sparkling emerald amulet. The Grimoire. I felt myself sinking to the floor, but the Guard grabbed me and held me upright, before yanking me over to the Master and whirling me around to face the crowd.

The Master’s face had lost some of its glee. He was staring at me with such intensity that I felt shards of ice slice through my veins.

His gaze never leaving mine, he removed the necklace from its place and, tossing the box behind him, walked behind me to fasten the amulet around my neck.

It was heavier than I had expected, and the energy emanating from it set my heart racing. At the same time, the magic was strange. It was like putting on someone else’s shoes. It made me slightly uncomfortable. The metal was hot against my skin, almost too hot, but I welcomed the pain. I needed to keep my mind clear.

The Master was facing me now, his features solemn again and harsh. “A long time ago,” he began, his voice eerily calm as though he were speaking to children, “a foolish warlock took something from me, and now I want it back.”

His words were laced with venom, and I flinched.

“You, Lainey DuCarmont, will undo what your family has done. Do so, and you walk away with your life. Deny me, and the consequences will be beyond your reckoning.”