lightning witch 02 - lightning legacy (5 page)

I looked up to see him, smiling at me. Okay, so now what?

“Okay, what do I do with this?” I mean, would it turn into a key to get me the hell out of my prison?

“You’ll know what to do with it when you are in need of it.”

Seriously? Just as I was about to question him further, something flashed across his face that led me to believe he wouldn’t tell me more.

“Reid, haven’t you found it odd that the amount of guards you see in a day has been reduced to two? Seems as though this pack is becoming … complacent,” he asked as he walked to the door. He turned to face me and I stood there dumbfounded, because no, I hadn’t noticed that. I’d had so much inner strife that I wouldn’t have noticed anything.

"I hadn’t," I admitted, not meeting his eyes.

“Reid, you have one week until the new moon. I need to you be there for my lightning bug.” His words filled the apartment long after he walked out.

This god needed me to be there for her.
Needed me to save her
. I would no longer allow myself to wallow in self-pity. I had a job to do and my love to save. I walked over to the couch and lay down. I closed my eyes and remembered her while I waited to wake up.

MARK DELIVERED EVERY
meal for the next two days. I took every chance I had to talk to him. I actually started to like the creepy little rat and that surprised the hell out of me. He was due to bring me breakfast in about ten minutes. I had a plan and needed him to help me. I needed to see if he was receptive at all, so I thought I would start small.
I just hope it will work.
Mitch still wasn't back from whatever venture he was on. That was the longest he had been gone since I was turned ... that I could remember anyway. Thank God I didn't have to see his smug face. Sometimes, I wished I had a pie that I could smash into it. Well, if by pie I meant anvil, then yes. I smiled at the visual. I really was sick.

He knocked at the door three minutes before his normal time.

"Hey, Mark, come in," I called in a cheery tone. Well, as cheery as I could manage in this cell.
Fake it until you make it, right?

"Hey, Delaney," he said, backing into the room with a cart.

“Would you mind setting it on the desk?” I replied, piling all of my dirty clothes on the bed.

“Yeah, no problem.” He walked over to the small oak desk in the far corner of the room. I continued piling the massive amount of clothes onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyeing me. His gaze went from the pile to me and then his eyes went wide at what I was wearing. Or rather what I wasn’t wearing. I had on a bra and tiny little boy-running-style shorts. He whirled, putting his back to me.

Now, that surprised me. Who knew the rat had some manners?

"God, Delaney! Put some clothes on!" His tone was rough, but embarrassed. I expected to smell lust, but this was truly unexpected.

“Sorry, uff …" I trailed off, trying to steady the mountain of clothes. "... Mitch always brings me new clothes, but he's been away and I have nothing that's clean."

He turned to face me. He eyed the large pile and had a look of panic flash across his face.

"Uh okay. I can't wash them," he said, sputtering the words out as though they were obstacles to even say.

I put my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes at him. "Well, why not?" A clump of hair fell into my eyes and I blew it out of my line of sight. All while never taking my eyes off of Mark.

He ran his hand through his greasy hair and didn't meet my eyes.

"I-I don't know how. My wife always washes the clothes." He seemed ashamed by admitting this fact. I think I was just staring at him, blinking and open-mouthed. How, in however many years he had been on this Earth, had he never learned how to wash clothes? And he was married? Good Lord, who knew? I guessed there really was someone for everyone. That thought caused a pang of hurt to prick my heart. I swallowed, trying to bite back a cry of pain at missing Reid.

"Well, what should I do?" The words held some of the emotions I was feeling, but I covered it by pushing my hip out in defiance. Well, I think all I really managed was pissy teenager.

“I-I don’t know. Mitch won’t be back until tonight. I’ll let you out so you can wash a load of laundry. I’ll be in the condo, so you can’t leave. Delaney, I mean it. Please don’t do anything that will get either of us killed,” he said, returning my hands on hip gesture.

I smiled at him, ran at him and threw my arms around him in thanks. It seemed to surprise him as his body went completely stiff at the sudden contact. Hell, I surprised myself. I leaned to his ear and whispered, "Thank you so much. This whole thing has been so awful. Thank you for doing the first nice thing for me since I was turned."

He softened at my words and even raised an arm to wrap it around me.

As though he realized just who he was touching, he recoiled from me with surprising speed. Clearly I smelled bad.

“You have one hour. Don’t fuck it up. And don’t tell anyone I let you do this,” he said as he left the room. And when he left the room, the door was open. Even this little bit of freedom made my heart rate speed up.

I grabbed a double armload of clothes and headed out of the dank room. I had a list of things to do and only an hour to do them in.

I’d been through this condo before. In fact, Mitch showed me around my second month here. Then he tried like hell to sleep with me. After he realized, through my not-so-subtle nos, also known as me burning his testicles so badly I doubt he could grow hair on them ever again, he put me in my cell of a room.

I nearly ran to the laundry room and threw my clothes in the washer. Then, I did the one thing I was explicitly told not to do. I went to Mitch’s office. I mean I never really did follow directions well. I turned the knob, only to find it locked. Shit!
How the hell do I get in there?
My eyes widened at a memory of the time I locked my bedroom door and I had to call Troy over to help me. He reached on the top of the door frame and felt around for a small key that resembled a small flat-head screwdriver.

“Girl, your momma must have never locked you out before. Everyone keeps these things here.”

I reached for the top of the door frame and gritted my teeth. I could barely reach. I stood on tip-toes and felt around, and there was nothing. It had to be there though, or else all this stupid venture would get me would be clean clothes. I tried again and just as I was about to give up, my fingertips brushed something small. I had to jump, but I finally got it. I was shaking by the time I slipped the small piece of metal into the door knob. I took a deep breath and felt the key slip into the groove and turn. The door clicked open. I took a deep breath and walked in. I wish I could say I had this amazing plan that would surely work, but I didn't. I was flying by the seat of my pants.

The office was twice the size of my small bedroom and I immediately felt totally cheated. There was an L-shaped cherry desk along the left and back walls, opposite the door. I walked over to it and began rifling through each drawer. I tried to view each and every item, but I had little time so I know there were things left unseen.

I walked over to the other side of the desk and opened a large drawer. In it was my purse. I picked it up and realized it was the one I had the night I died. I didn't even remember what I had in it. I opened it to find the letter that Mil left me. My skin went cold. I didn’t have time to read it, but I did note it was there. I slipped it back into the drawer to get at a later time. My heart was about to beat out of my chest. I flipped through his contact information located in a small address book. I went down the list trying to see if there was anyone I knew. Then it dawned on me: I could use the fucking phone!

I grabbed the small address book and scrambled to the cordless phone on the desk. Just as I reached for it, I pulled back. Who would I call? Who would come and get me? I plopped down on the computer chair. God, I had no one. I put my head into my hands and held my breath. I had no idea what I was trying to accomplish. My mind was at a breaking point and I knew it. I was crumbling and trying desperately to grapple for some kind of purchase, finding nothing but the rubble of what once was my life. I felt the little book slip from my hand and fall to the floor. I glanced at it when a name caught my eye. Monique Thomas. But, her name was under the Cs. I wiped my eyes with my palm. They weren't tears. My eyes were just sweating.

I fingered the entry and couldn’t understand why her name would be listed under the Cs. Her number was an out-of-state number; I had no idea where it was from. My eyes slid to a small black filing cabinet to the right of the desk. I got up and crossed to it, opening the first drawer and going to the Cs. I didn’t know any of the names and most of them did not start with C.
What the hell?
I couldn’t understand why the crap all of these people were under the Cs. Then I saw a name I knew, Bernard Tailor. He was the leader of the Coven. Could it really be that easy? C is for Coven as in all of the inner circle? I picked up the file for Monique, then walked over to the desk and began looking through it.

She was from New Orleans, born and raised. She was an Earth witch. An incredibly powerful one at that. She was the newest addition to the inner circle. Her file went on about a lot of personal details. Then there were pictures, intimate pictures that one only got if the person trusted you. Mitch was even in some of them. This had to be how he found out about the prophecy. Had she told him?
Oh, hell no
. My faced heated with rage. How could she? I narrowed my eyes at the black book with her phone number in it. I smiled. Well, how about I give my fellow witch a little call?

I picked up the phone and dialed her number. With each ring my rage built. And with my increasing anger, my erratic heartbeat picked up into a faster rhythm. I tried to formulate just what I would say when she …

"Hello?" Her voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. She had a slight Creole accent. She sounded young. Like me. I tried to hold onto my rage and ire.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

I shook my head and tried to say something, anything.

“Hi, um, hello.”
Really, Delaney? The woman who sold out one of her own kind and you say hello?

“Hi. May I ask who this is?”

"Um, my name is Delaney, and-and …" I felt tears prick my eyes. Damnit, I wouldn’t be a sniffling twit.

"Oh, gods, Delaney! Reid told me about you. Are you
okay
?" Her tone turned frantic.

“He-he did?” I was confused. This was not at all how I thought this conversation would go.

“Delaney, is Reid not with you? God, I’m so sorry. I never meant for Mitch to know anything. He overheard a conversation. Wait, are you okay?” My head was reeling with her rambling.

“No.” It was a whisper of a word. My throat was closing and I had to choke the words out, “I-I’m not okay.” I felt a tear track down my cheek.

“God, Delaney, did Mitch …?” Her words sounded as though they were ripped from her.

“He killed me. And then I …” I bit my lower lip trying desperately not to break out in sobs.

“Oh no. I …” I could hear the emotion in her words. She was pained. All of the rage and ire fell away. This would be the only time I had and she didn’t seem like the stories I heard of the Coven. I took a deep measured breath and found a little starch and injected it in my spine.

“Monique, Mitch has me and I don’t know how much longer I have before I break.”

My words filled the small room, making the air around me feel heavy with foreboding. Or I was losing it, which was highly possible.

“Delaney, listen to me. The Coven is after you as well. They don't know what has happened and I won't tell them, but you need to get away. They started this ... program. A breeding program. They are trying to breed as many witches as possible. But, they are forcibly breeding the most powerful ones. If they find you, Delaney, they will try to …" She trailed off in what I assumed was her trying to gather her thoughts.

“Listen, get away and call me when you can, I’ll help you if I …”

With a click the line went dead. I looked down at the phone.
What the hell was wrong with this thing?
I then looked up to find Mitch holding the cord of the phone in his hand.

My heart dropped out from under me. I knew it was coming, but when he rushed me, lifting me out of the chair by my hair, the pain knocked the breath out of me. He dragged me to the nearest wall and flattened me to it. I gritted my teeth at the pain. I tried to pull on my power, but he had to have felt it building, because he slammed my head against the wall again. My vision blurred at the impact. He flipped me so that I was facing the wall. As soon as he had me fully pressed against the flat surface, he took my hands and wrenched them behind my back, causing me to arch toward him. I screamed out in pain. My heart was a jackhammer in my chest.

“Was it worth it?” he snarled in my ear. I could feel his spittle misting me. I began pulling the lightning from my core again. I had to fight back. He felt my body tense and shifted my hands to one of his, then grabbed my hair again and ground my face into the wall.