Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“I’m one of many. We’ve been killing all kinds of creatures to meet you, Kricket Jones,” he says with a smile as he adjusts his seat belt and clicks it into place.
Good to know, and that explains everything.
One of many. I should have gone with the gargoyles.
He seems a bit disgusted that I don’t comment. Perhaps he wants fear or fake awe. My poor head is throbbing, and all I can do is blink at him. I’m going to keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to be smacked around again.
No, thank you. I’ll keep my mouth closed. I’m sure he wants me to do the victim thing and ask lots of questions: Why have you taken me? What are you going to do? And don’t forget the serial killer’s favourite: Please don’t hurt me.
I’ve never been one to beg.
I’m too stubborn. And I’m used to making mistakes, saying the wrong things, and shoving my foot in my mouth.
Sometimes it’s better to say nothing—nothing at all.
He’s kidnapped me, after all. This is his game. Being caught is not what I envisioned. I’ve been wholly outmatched since the first explosion, and sitting in this car with him, I’ve never felt so overwhelmingly young. I’m sick of being deathly afraid.
“We are the Claw Brotherhood.”
Claw Brotherhood. I’d snort a laugh if I weren’t shitting myself. It’s obvious he’s an invader, a wannabe dragon, one without a stupid mask to disguise his foolish face. I don’t know what he expects from me, but he continues his mini tirade. I have a feeling he’s just warming up.
“I’m here to make sure that nature’s faults are corrected.”
Nature’s faults, I take it that’s me and every other dragon blood?
“My name is Damien Hass. You can call me by my title, Grand Claw.”
Erm… I’d rather not. I peek at his face, and he’s serious. That’s his title. Wow.
“It’s my job to find out where you got the charms and to recover them.”
I can barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. The charms again. Everybody wants that information. I wonder when they’ll connect the dots and see me. I don’t know what’s better, people thinking I’m a thief or knowing I’m the creator.
I twist slightly in the seat. I had enough foresight to nudge the phone from my hoodie pocket with my elbow.
It dropped in the gutter just as I was shoved into the car.
My charms are still in the inside pocket of my jeans.
I immediately signal them to be quiet and hide, and their magic signatures disappear from my senses.
I send an approval down our link with an added command to protect themselves.
“I had to come myself as it seems my brethren are incapable of dealing with one little girl. You weren’t hard to catch, not at all, and this entire trip has been a waste of my time. I need to be hunting this Gary Chappell, not a thief.”
The car jerks forward into traffic, and the momentum pushes me back into my seat. I wiggle closer to the door.
Damien Hass—even in my head, I can’t call him the Grand Claw—gives me a nasty smile and flicks a finger. I’m frozen.
It’s like he’s Medusa and I’ve been turned to stone.
He frowns at my face and then waves the same hand, and my red hair tumbles around my shoulders as he removes the disguise spell.
“There we are. That’s much better.” He leans closer and tilts my chin, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.
“I’ll have to kill you soon, and you know what?
It’s such a shame. It’s a total waste as you’re a pretty little thing.
I can see why Gary wants to spend time with you.
But we can’t allow you to live. You know too much. ” Creepily, he sighs.
I want to wrinkle my nose as his breath smells tangy, a gross combination of rotten tomatoes and coffee. He needs to quit breathing on me and maybe brush his teeth.
“You’re beautiful, but you shouldn’t exist. None of you should. The Creature Council promised to keep you all under control, but that promise was broken. We have now ratified the problem by culling everyone.”
Culling. Killing. Is he trying to say he’s killed everyone? I don’t believe him. It’s a trick. It must be.
He. Is. Lying.
Damien Hass and his Claw Brotherhood friends can’t have gone that far, not with the entire world watching.
I saw Anton Hill’s smarmy face live on the news this morning, and he looked fine—more than fine.
The man is too much of a slimy coward for it not to show on his face. He didn’t look stressed or frightened.
“Everyone in that fate-forsaken town is dead, and you will join them soon enough. But first, I’ll need you to tell me where you found the charms.” Then he smiles.
It’s not a nice smile. “I need to know about Gary Chappell and how to find him. According to our sources, you’re his main contact. Is he your boyfriend?”
Does he expect me to answer? Spoiler alert: He’s frozen my fucking face. I’m lucky that I can still breathe.
“No? Are you not going to confess the nature of your relationship? Ah, Miss Jones, you’re in a terrible mess. The old adage of follow the money, and the money leads to you. Has your witch boyfriend set you up?”
Does he want a pat on the head? It doesn’t take a financial genius to see that my family has moved into a new house, a house which I own outright.
“He must care about you. That’s why he came into town and destroyed my spell.
You’re the key to getting him out from the rock he’s disappeared under.
If you cooperate, I won’t kill you. I’ll let you and your family go if you confess two things: where you found the charms, and where I can find your boyfriend. ”
He sits back, and the leather seat squeaks as he jiggles his knees and taps a weird tune on his thigh. A familiar tune.
And then it comes to me. That’s the tune from the Pied Piper spell. My heart jumps and sinks like a rock to my boots. He’s the witch, the magic user, who cast it. He was the one who spelled everyone.
Shit. I’m in seriously over my head.
If he’s waiting for a reaction, he has made a mistake in freezing my face because I’d be unable to stop my response from hearing the rhythm of that awful spell. He’s testing me. Only the person who made or unravelled the spell would recognise it.
“I don’t know what stolen charm Gary Chappell used to remove my spell, but he won’t be doing that again. He won’t be able to save you this time, but you can save yourself.” His voice rings with arrogance. He’s seriously pissed, and that’s why he came to collect me himself. He’s livid.
That doesn’t bode well for me.
“That Pied Piper magic was a work of art. It was the best spell I had ever cast. I had an entire town in the palm of my hand.” He stops jiggling long enough to stare down at the said hand.
“I haven’t had someone interfere with my work.
I was surprised he could. He used another charm to circumvent and unravel it.
” He shakes his head. “He repaired all those minds. I didn’t think that was possible.
It was an act of cruelty, you know, such cruelty in saving them.
They all knew they were going to die when the time came. You don’t owe him any loyalty.”
He grunts when I remain silent. “You’re more than you appear to be, and I’m excited about picking your mind apart.
What I’m going to do to you, girl. By the time I’m through, death will be a mercy, and you will be begging.
Begging me to end your pitiful life. With a few words, you can save yourself. ”
His jiggling and tap, tap, tapping is driving me mad. He doesn’t need to think up any elaborate torture, as he’s doing perfectly fine.
“The mighty dragons are our gods. The brotherhood serves them, and you will regret ever touching their magic, charm thief.”
Bingo. Religious fanatics. Is it strange that I’m disappointed? I thought they were professional soldiers, not a bunch of dragon-worshipping weirdos. And I’m back to being a thief. I’d rather he believed I have sticky fingers than him knowing I can create dragon magic.
“They’re ours to worship and protect while we rid the world of their unworthy offspring. The Creature Council believes in our righteousness.”
Yeah, it seems they let you get away with attacking our town and murdering innocent people and all those gargoyles.
That’s what I don’t get. The gargoyles are chasing me. Instead, they should be hunting this guy. It’s like everyone has lost their minds and all their common sense.
“You and your people are freaks of nature, daring to carry such mighty blood in your veins. Keeping you alive risks an all-out war. Everyone wants to eliminate the problem just as much as we do. Once the rest of the stragglers are hunted down, this blip on the dragons’ name will be gone.”
Stragglers hunted down, like my family?
I want to rip his head off.
He must be baiting me. I can’t believe his lies, as he must be lying. His nervous body language doesn’t connect with his words. He’s talking about genocide and mass murder and yet fidgeting like a child. No, I don’t believe him.
The man has power beyond my comprehension, and yet to look at him, he seems like an average guy, like he’d help you with your taxes. I just don’t get it. I don’t get him. Perhaps I haven’t been alive long enough to understand that evil people have many guises, and his is one of them.
If I could give him what he wants, this guy would never let me go, even if I could produce my alter ego. I can see it in his eyes. Leaving one dragon blood alive would be too much.
His expression is fanatical as he continues, waxing lyrical about dragons.
The man is a dragon zealot. I’ve seen that look on alcoholics at the supermarket.
No matter what he believes, dragons aren’t going to start popping out of the woodwork, and if there are more of them around, I can’t see them being happy these idiots are killing in their name.
No wonder the general, the silver dragon, the only known dragon left in this world, doesn’t advertise his whereabouts or personal details. He’s impossible to track or these guys would no doubt be camping outside his house.
That dragon is a war hero. There are books written about him. No, he wouldn’t be happy to hear what these men are up to.
They wear masks and pretend to be dragons, even convincing the gargoyles. I hate to say it, but they’re a bunch of weirdos, granted trained, professional, killing weirdos with one guy who can work excellent, scary magic.
I can’t move my head but can move my eyes to gaze outside. I’m done with him. The motorway’s blue signs whip past, highlighting roads and towns that have zero meaning to me. I don’t know where we are or where we’re going. We could be in a foreign country.
I’ve also never had to sit so still before, and being unable to move is excruciating. My skin and muscles feel on fire, and my left ankle throbs. Pins and needles stab at me, and my entire left foot feels like it’s going to drop off.
This is great.
I need a plan to save myself. I have time while we are driving and Damien has finally stopped talking. I need to do something with this spell, do something rather than sit here and think about how much I hurt.
I take a gander at the magic crushing me into my seat and can confirm that the magical signature is the same as the Pied Piper spell. At least he’s telling the truth about that.
Unlike the Pied Piper spell, the magic that has frozen me isn’t as intricate or as carefully woven.
It’s basic and sloppy. My metaphysical fingers give it a prod, pick at it, and manage to unravel a corner.
I pause to check if he’s noticed. He hasn’t, so I unravel some more, loosening and weakening it.
I make the spell mine and wait for the perfect time to use it.