Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(17)

“Have you missed me, Bianca darling?”

“Not particularly. How did you transport me here? It cannot be done with our magic.”

The words our magic lingered in my mind. She must be using a dark magic that I didn’t know how to block. There was no other explanation.

“Lovely outfit,” she said with a chuckle, purposefully ignoring my question. “I’m a little surprised you aren’t wearing pants and leather slippers. They are still your favorite, aren’t they?”

I’m surprised you’re not wearing horns.

“They’re being cleaned,” I said casually, clenching my hands into fists. The power hummed in my chest, dangerously alive in her presence. I didn’t know how long I could control it. Once it took over, I wouldn’t be able to stop it from acting.

She smiled in her demure way.

“I’m glad to see you still have something of a wit. And your courage, too. I hear you had a little encounter with a dragon the other day. How very sweet of you to rush in and try to save it. You’re always trying to control the things you have no control over, aren’t you, foolish girl?”

My nails bit into my palm.

“I didn’t try to save it. I did save it.”

“For now.”

A long silence stretched between us. We stared at each other, sizing up, assessing. Could she feel my hatred, my power? Of course she could. Only a fool wouldn’t sense the crackling tension.

“It’s difficult keeping the power under control, isn’t it?” she asked. “I can feel your struggle.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She laughed again, a trilling sound that grated on my nerves. What I wouldn’t give to be rid of her! But even I wasn’t foolish enough to try to fight her. I wasn’t ready, not yet. Last time I tried to fight her— No, just focus on making it out alive, Bianca. Just focus on surviving right now.

“I used my exceptional magical power and transported you here for something simple, really,” Miss Mabel said, interrupting my internal dialogue. “No doubt you thought I’d forget about our little agreement, though I never forget anything.”

She snapped her fingers in a lazy motion and a familiar book appeared. The Book of Contracts. It held our binding, complete with my signature. I struggled to keep my face impassive the way Papa always could.

“You’re going to set the task,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Fine. What is it?”

She made a tsking sound through her teeth.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Yes,” I shot back. “I have a life to live.”

“Not unless you listen to me.” Her eyes flared in a sudden rush of passion. “You seem to have forgotten that I am my grandmother’s magical heir and the only witch alive that controls your curse.”

A hot pain clamped around my throat, paralyzing my voice like the grip of a pair of searing tongs. I gasped. My hands wrapped around my neck, but nothing was there. She smiled.

“Now pay attention, will you?” The burning spasms that choked me subsided, and I wondered if the heat of the West compromised her usually suave control. She resumed with her usual tone of indifference. “It would be very wise of you to do what I tell you. Matters such as this cannot be rushed.”

The nearly silent sound of someone padding into the room stole my attention. I tuned into the sound and sensed movement behind me. Gentle, even breaths. An adult, based on the low shuffle of the footfalls. Most likely a female. Twenty paces away. Miss Mabel’s head instantly jerked up and she focused on the witch over my shoulder. The smooth lines of her perfect neck twitched. Whoever stood out of sight had not been invited. I almost spun around to see who was there, but didn’t want to take my eyes off Miss Mabel for even a second. The fiery discomfort still clinging to my throat reminded me of how unpredictable she’d become.

Miss Mabel glowered at the shadows with glittering eyes.

“Let’s talk out here, shall we, Bianca?” she asked.

Miss Mabel sauntered away, barefoot. A white cotton dress, so thin it was almost scandalous, drifted in the hot air around her legs as she walked. Lace spread across her neck and upper arms, revealing snippets of her tan skin. Finally gathering my courage, I looked over my shoulder and saw only gauzy drapes and rock walls. The whisper of someone transporting away hovered in the air, then faded.

She strolled to the balcony outside and stopped just within the shade. A sprawling city bustled below, filled with early-morning vendors, the fair-haired and blue-eyed witches of the West, and horses. There were no trees here, just a dense green scrub brush on the red cliffs and white stalls that the witches used to hide from the blistering sun. Buckets of dates, coconuts, and long white robes were scattered through most of the market. This had to be Custos, the largest city in the Western Network.

Above us soared more red rock, honed and refined into the smooth, waving walls of a castle. Skinny threads of red, yellow, and orange color ran through the layers of rock. Pictures of dragons and desert serpents were carved around the windows and painted black. The castle walls extended up several stories more and then blended into the mountain.

The Arck, I thought. The legendary castle of the Western Network. It was the only castle in all the Networks built into a mountainside like this. Legend stated that a waterfall fell five stories through the middle of the High Priest’s chambers and supplied the witches with their only constant water source. Judging by her sprawling chambers here, Miss Mabel was no servant. I wondered how much power she held. Almack, the Western High Priest, had been deathly sick for months now. Was Miss Mabel trying to take over upon his death?