Roar (Witches & Warlocks Book 3) (14 page)

“But how? We don’t know where Lucy lives. We don’t know how dangerous she really is. We don’t know how many vampires she has with her.” I’d like to say that my voice is level, but it’s rising in volume, tight with panic.

“Well, then, we find those things out.”

Luke sighs and his breath smells like dead things. “How? How do we find those things out?”

I hate to agree with him, but I do. We’ve been nothing more than pawns in this game, the sword in the master’s hand. Kept in the dark. Uninformed. Used. I tried to search out more information by going to Albert and what good did that do me? I got sore. Learned how to use weights and a treadmill. But I don’t have one shred more information than I did when I first started trying to talk to Albert.

I realize I’m just staring at Noah, waiting for him to come up with what we do next. That’s not fair. It’s not his parents in Lucy’s hands. Not his responsibility to come to my rescue. To their rescue. This? All this is on me.

And I don’t have a single idea as to what to do next.

Rescue my parents. That’s all I know. But how? When Daya’s told us nothing. And Barnabe’s told us even less than that. And then, out of the blue, I have an idea.

For whatever reason, all I can remember is the way Barnabe’s little message to me scrolled across the pages of the Memenderat the very first day we met. The way he yelled at me for not using it more often. I can’t help but feel like that’s a great big sign that I should pay attention to.

“Hold on just a second.” I practically sprint back to my bedroom and grab the book. On a whim, I grab the amulet as well. When I get back to the table, the tension between Noah and Luke is intense. This is
so
not the time for them to get all alpha male on me.
So
not the time for them to start butting heads. They’re just gonna have to put their differences aside while we deal with this.

I place the book and the amulet down on the table and stare at them. So, what’s my grand plan? Write in my grimoire and hope Barnabe reaches out? Put on the amulet and invoke his protection? Suddenly I feel very useless. I look up and catch Luke’s gaze. The look on his face drives another little nail of fear in my heart.

“What?” I ask.

“You,” he says. “You can’t use magic. You died last night, remember?”

“I healed her,” says Noah.

“I’m sure you did.” Luke’s face is bitter. “Among other things. But don’t forget, Barnabe healed her last night, too. Didn’t stop her from dying anyway.”

And then the look on Noah’s face matches the fear in my heart and I’m sinking into my chair and Luke’s laughing. It’s this brittle thing that sounds more like a broken heart than humor. That pretty much stumps me. I didn’t know how I was going to find Lucy and face her, get my parents back and kill her when I was part of the Trinity — the magical trio specially designed to take out vampires. But now? When I’m just plain old Zoe Tate? Useless. Powerless. How the hell am I supposed to do anything about it now?

I say as much to the guys and Luke says nothing. Pushes his chair back and makes a cup of coffee. Noah’s busy trying to work out the problem when Luke comes back with his coffee.

“What’s that?” he asks, indicating the book and the amulet.

I explain about how Barnabe’s writing showed up the first day we met him, even flipped to the page and showed them the words still inscribed on the page.

“And the necklace?” Noah picks it up and drops it instantly. Looks at his fingers and rubs them together. Shudders. “It’s clearly not meant for me.”

“I wore it when we went to Pulse to find Andrew Llewellyn. I could feel the vampires looking at me. It was the first time I ever felt something like that around them.”

“So what? You want to write a note to Barnabe? Get him to tell you what to do? Put on his necklace and charge after the big, bad vampire?” Luke blows air out his nose and rolls his eyes.

I want to ask him what the hell is wrong with him, but I really don’t think he’s worth the energy. Noah on the other hand, he doesn’t seem to be worried about conserving his energy.

“How about you don’t talk to her like that.” He keeps his tone polite, but there’s absolutely no doubt that he means business.

“How about, just because you're fucking her doesn't mean you can tell me anything?”

There’s this moment of intense eye contact and angry jaws and while it’s all very impressive, there’s just no time for it. “How about,” I say, “we stop arguing and figure out what we’re gonna do. ‘Cause I’m not gonna be OK sitting here much longer.”

Thing is, with me out of commission, we’re screwed. I can’t see any possible way to face Lucy with the hope of coming back out again if I can’t use my magic. That’s assuming we can even figure out where Lucy is. I put my head down on the table and close my eyes.

I can’t help but wonder, if I feel like my grimoire is a direct line to Barnabe, a direct line to answers and salvation, why haven't I been writing in it? Why haven’t I reached out to get the information I need? Written down all my questions about vampires and werewolves so Barnabe could answer them for me? I wonder if it’s because, on some deep down, secret level, I don’t trust him.

If he’s so super-duper crazy powerful, why is he hiding behind Daya? Making her do all the heavy lifting and putting her out in front so
she’s
the one in danger? What kind of leader does that? A coward would do that.

Or an imposter.

But there’s no doubt in my mind that Barnabe Withers is the most powerful creature I’ve ever met. So he’s no imposter. Does that mean he’s a coward? So what does that mean? What good does figuring that out do me?

No good at all.

What do I do?

I sit up and find both Noah and Luke watching me.

“I don’t trust Barnabe.” I say it and they nod. “And I don’t know what to do.” I take their silence and lack of expression as an agreement. What’s the sword to do when it becomes the focus of the attack? I guess it just has to trust the master. And yet, I don’t trust the master. I can’t even stand calling him that. There was a poem I found, back in high school.
Invictus
by I Don’t Remember Who. I read it and memorized it and wanted to hang it on my wall. It spoke to me on so many levels. Zoe Tate, the quiet girl with the tiger inside. The girl who lived her life for everybody else, worried that what she said and wanted upset the people around her. The girl who wanted out of the prison of silence.

The poem spoke of courage. Of strength. Of standing up and fighting for what you want and believe in. For who you are. I’ve forgotten most of it by now. Just little bits still hanging around in my subconscious somewhere. But the last two lines? They’re still in there. And they’re feel very applicable to what’s going on.

I am the master of my fate.

I am the captain of my soul.

Those words used to make me feel so strong. So sure. So determined to stop living for everyone else, to stop hiding behind my silence. I think, maybe, after all these years, it’s time to finally stand up and
live
those words.

I stand up and close the grimoire. “I’m not reaching out to Barnabe. I’m going to Windsor and I’m going to ask Daya where I can find Lucy. I’m going to ask her to heal me. To tell me what’s going on with my magic.”

“Daya?” Noah looks confused.

“Yes. Daya.”

“Why?”

I don’t have a good reason for that other than every instinct I have is on fire, telling me to go to her. To demand answers. To make her relieve me of the term “sword” and rename myself “master.”

Chapter Seventeen

I get dressed quickly, without waiting to find out what Luke and Noah will do. When it comes down to it, this is my problem, not theirs. My parents. Who knows why Lucy decided to pick on me and not them? Maybe I’m the only one she could find with any weaknesses to leverage. Yay me. I get to be the weak link. Again.

I pay very little attention to what I’m pulling on. Leggings and a sweater. Boots. Not pretty boots. Thick, heavy duty boots. I slick my hair back into a tight pony tail. When I look at the girl in the mirror, I don’t see the old or the new Zoe. I see yet a different version of her. A harder version. There’s something there that reminds me of the way Becca changed after her secret was out. After I found out she wasn’t really my friend.

I guess hard truths find their way out no matter how you’d like them to stay hidden.

I consider pulling my hair down, softening my look. But you know what? I don’t. If I end up having to fight for my life, having my hair down will only get in the way. And if we get right down to it, that’s why I went with the boots. And the leggings. I’ll get more maneuverability out of them if the shit hits the fan.

Suddenly, I feel very sorry for Becca.

No time for that. I stride back into the living room and find the guys waiting. Dressed to kill. Literally. I grab my bag and kind of as an afterthought, sweep the Memenderat and amulet from Barnabe inside. Without a word, we pull on our coats and head outside. Luke’s already got his car warming up and has scraped the frost from the windows.

It’s a quiet ride to Windsor Manor and I can’t help but think of all the things that have changed since the first time I came here. The girl who stepped out of Noah’s car that day was lost and alone. Weak and afraid. Shaking like a leaf after seeing her first remnant and killing a bunch of people.

This girl?

She’s harder. Seasoned. Resolute.

Students are lounging on the front steps when we pull up. They stop talking and watch us walk up the front steps. There are a few awed whispers. I hear our names. Talk about strange. These kids know who we are. Noah holds the door open for me and as it closes behind us, a torrent of whispers and gasps erupt amongst the students on the stairs. Fancy that. I’m famous.

Daya’s in her office and looks up, surprised, when we walk in. She quickly covers her surprise with a massive smile. “What a pleasure!” Her oddly heavy voice grates out into the room as she stands up and walks out from behind her desk. “What can I do for you guys?”

Her eyes sweep over me and I watch her tick off all the things that have changed in much the same way I did earlier. I close her door and fold my hands over my chest. “We’ve got a problem.”

Daya indicates that we should sit down and we fill her in on the story. “I’ll contact Barnabe right away,” she says when we’re done.

I hold up my hand. “I’m going to assume, that in the same way he was aware that our last mission was a test, that Lucy suspected who we were and wanted proof, well, I’m sure he knows about this, too.”

Daya looks confused. “What? What about your last mission?”

I exchange a look with Noah and Luke, tension tightening my own jaw. Somehow, the fact that Daya doesn’t know anything about that doesn’t surprise me.

“After I made Andrew Llewellyn human again, I looked in his mind. I saw Lucy tell him that she suspected us — you included — of making all her vampires disappear. She’d take his death as confirmation she was right. Luke killed him before I could explain what I’d found. Long story short, Lucy knows what we’re doing.”

I can’t even begin to unravel the myriad emotions parading across Daya’s face. The entire room seems to darken, the colors to fade, the lights to dim. “And Barnabe knew?”

“He showed up at the apartment—”

“Alone?”

“Yes.” Another tight exchange between the guys and I. “The next day.”

“And what did he say?”

“We told him about what I found, he said he knew that Lucy knew and that we’d done well. That Lucy was swallowing his plot, hook line and sinker.”

“
His
plot?” I shit you not, a book goes flying off the shelf behind Daya and I can’t help it, I jump. So much for hardened badass.

“Daya,” Noah says, his voice soft, placating. “Why don’t you fill us in? We’ve done well for you as your weapon, but I think it’s time we understand just exactly what’s going on.”

“You already know what’s going on, Lucy and Albert are busy experimenting, trying to blend their species, to construct the perfect predator.”

I’ve spent quite a lot of time with Albert lately and I may not be the best judge of character, but I just can’t see him being OK with something like that. “Who told you that?”

“Barnabe did.”

“And did you ever have any proof? Other than what Barnabe told you?”

“I’m not in a position to ask for proof. No one crosses Barnabe Withers.” Somehow, coming from Daya, that statement is chilling.

Thing is, something isn’t adding up.

And I don’t have the time or patience to figure it all out right now.

Hell.

We’ve wasted enough time as it is.

“Listen, I’m here because Lucy has my parents. And I’m afraid they’re going to die and I can’t let that happen. My magic is … broken—”

“Broken? How?”

I explain to her about what happened at Pulse, about how much magic I used. The bloody nose when I came home from the gym. Barnabe’s admonishment not to use magic. And then I just kind of stop talking because I don’t want to say what happened last night when I brought myself home. The words don’t work. They’re stuck.

Luke does it for me. “Zoe died last night.”

There’s a flurry of excitement and exclamations and explanations. Daya is out of her chair, her hands fluttering around me, grabbing my chin and turning my face as if to find any residual damage. I keep muttering that I’m fine. It all seems so silly, which is silly in and of itself. I think anyone else would be in a hospital right now, not walking around, trying to figure out how to take on a house full of vampires.

Daya grabs my face with both hands. “Zoe. You’re not fine. Let me help you.” And then there’s a surge of magic and the roar of a tiger and I think I hear Celine laughing. There’s a warm breeze, like a spring day, and there’s light glinting on water and cherry blossoms swaying in the wind. There’s the scent of honeysuckle. There’s a pop and a rush of my magic flowing through my veins and I open my eyes and gasp.