faded from blue to gray, not to a gray that the sky would naturally wear, but a gray that had never known any color other than black and white. A memory prickled at the back of my mind. I’d seen this sky before. I picked up my pace, but with each step I took closer to where home should lie, I felt an increased sense of menace, as if I were being guided, being funneled into a trap. The streets of Savannah had become a type of kaleidoscopic maze, with my well-worn path home transformed into a dead-end trail.
I sought to escape this feeling by turning away from home, onto Lincoln, testing the reality of what my witch’s senses were telling me. I could only continue a few steps in my new direction; then the air around me seemed to congeal, constrict, and drive me back to this caricature of my customary route.
I was not going to lose my head. If I couldn’t escape on foot, I would turn to magic. The first trick I had learned once my powers had been returned to me was to teleport short distances, simply by concentrating on the place where I wanted to go. I learned quickly to close my eyes when I did so, otherwise the motion would leave me feeling seasick. I closed my eyes and concentrated on home. Instantly I began to feel the now familiar sensation of dropping down and sliding, but this time something struck me as different. I felt as if I were bumping up against a boundary, like I was pushing against an enormous rubber band. I heard a screech like metal scraping against metal, and my eyes flashed open. I still stood some yards away from the Owens-Thomas House and only a few inches from where I had started.
I felt unseen eyes on me. Somebody was toying with me. “I know you’re watching me. Enjoying my fear. But we have arrived at the end of your good time.” I scanned the empty street, the deserted square. “I am an anchor of the line, and you cannot use its power against me.” I wished I felt more certain of that fact, but my gut told me it was true. At least mostly so. “That means you are tapping into a different source, and the magic you are using is dangerous. It will backfire on you. If you stop now, I’ll help you. I promise. Now show yourself.” Even though my gut told me Iris was too quick to lay blame at Jessamine’s door, I very nearly expected to see her appear before me.
I stood there waiting, but my words were met with silence, and well, that just pissed me off. “I said show yourself.” The words came out in a quiet voice. They didn’t boom through the ether or echo around me, but even I was surprised by the sense of authority they conveyed.
The world around me scintillated; then shadows danced with light. A darkness coalesced and took form before me. The sound of clapping met my ears before my eyes could resolve the figure there.
“Wow, you have gotten really bossy there, cousin.” Teague Ryan stood mere steps away. Teague looked like the kind of guy who reported television sports. Good-looking, but not too much so, with closely cropped hair and broad shoulders. I’d think him handsome if his personality didn’t come so much into play. Teague was a bully. Nothing more, nothing less. I hadn’t seen him, I hadn’t even thought of him, since the night back in early July when we drew lots to see who would replace Ginny as our family’s anchor. Teague worked his square jaw from side to side until it popped, then took a few steps closer. His pulse throbbed in his temple. I stood my ground. “You wanted to see me,” he said, “so here I am.”
Teague had wanted, no, expected, the line to overlook us undisciplined Savannah Taylors, and settle its powers on his own broad shoulders. Of everyone who might have been chosen to replace my Great-Aunt Ginny as anchor of the line, Teague was the angriest I had been chosen. Well, other than Maisie, that is, and she tried to kill me to get her hands on the power. Did Teague hope to succeed where my sister had failed? “What are you playing at
I sought to escape this feeling by turning away from home, onto Lincoln, testing the reality of what my witch’s senses were telling me. I could only continue a few steps in my new direction; then the air around me seemed to congeal, constrict, and drive me back to this caricature of my customary route.
I was not going to lose my head. If I couldn’t escape on foot, I would turn to magic. The first trick I had learned once my powers had been returned to me was to teleport short distances, simply by concentrating on the place where I wanted to go. I learned quickly to close my eyes when I did so, otherwise the motion would leave me feeling seasick. I closed my eyes and concentrated on home. Instantly I began to feel the now familiar sensation of dropping down and sliding, but this time something struck me as different. I felt as if I were bumping up against a boundary, like I was pushing against an enormous rubber band. I heard a screech like metal scraping against metal, and my eyes flashed open. I still stood some yards away from the Owens-Thomas House and only a few inches from where I had started.
I felt unseen eyes on me. Somebody was toying with me. “I know you’re watching me. Enjoying my fear. But we have arrived at the end of your good time.” I scanned the empty street, the deserted square. “I am an anchor of the line, and you cannot use its power against me.” I wished I felt more certain of that fact, but my gut told me it was true. At least mostly so. “That means you are tapping into a different source, and the magic you are using is dangerous. It will backfire on you. If you stop now, I’ll help you. I promise. Now show yourself.” Even though my gut told me Iris was too quick to lay blame at Jessamine’s door, I very nearly expected to see her appear before me.
I stood there waiting, but my words were met with silence, and well, that just pissed me off. “I said show yourself.” The words came out in a quiet voice. They didn’t boom through the ether or echo around me, but even I was surprised by the sense of authority they conveyed.
The world around me scintillated; then shadows danced with light. A darkness coalesced and took form before me. The sound of clapping met my ears before my eyes could resolve the figure there.
“Wow, you have gotten really bossy there, cousin.” Teague Ryan stood mere steps away. Teague looked like the kind of guy who reported television sports. Good-looking, but not too much so, with closely cropped hair and broad shoulders. I’d think him handsome if his personality didn’t come so much into play. Teague was a bully. Nothing more, nothing less. I hadn’t seen him, I hadn’t even thought of him, since the night back in early July when we drew lots to see who would replace Ginny as our family’s anchor. Teague worked his square jaw from side to side until it popped, then took a few steps closer. His pulse throbbed in his temple. I stood my ground. “You wanted to see me,” he said, “so here I am.”
Teague had wanted, no, expected, the line to overlook us undisciplined Savannah Taylors, and settle its powers on his own broad shoulders. Of everyone who might have been chosen to replace my Great-Aunt Ginny as anchor of the line, Teague was the angriest I had been chosen. Well, other than Maisie, that is, and she tried to kill me to get her hands on the power. Did Teague hope to succeed where my sister had failed? “What are you playing at
Similar Books
