Chapter Twenty One
I rocked back and forth on my heals impatiently. Nym had told me not to move, but it was kind of hard to stay still when somebody was drawing a circle around you with a burning stick. Things like that tend to catch your attention.
West held a book in two hands and was murmuring some presumably dead language under his breath. Why was it always a cryptic dead language? What was wrong with English? Or if he was really set on speaking a different language, use German for God's sake. That was plenty terrifying sounding. Jack stood off to the side with a knife clenched in his hand next to Autumn, who was currently my favorite person in the room due to her lack of interest. She was checking down her shirt for whatever reason, but still.
"If you're planning to stick me in a Devil's Trap I'm gonna be pissed," I said, just to break the silence.
Nym, still bending over the almost completed circle, glared up at me. "I swear, human, one more Supernatural reference and I-"
"No way, you watch Supernatural, too?" I gaped. I didn't correct her on the human part; that just seemed like a lost cause, but how many dead serious leaders in the world would I get to meet who watched Supernatural?
"This discussion is officially over," she snapped. I made a face as she closed up the circle. West had a slight pause in his dead language chant to wink at me. Nym stepped back to admire her handiwork and brushed her hands off. "And no, for your information, this is not a pentagram, it's a Caelestia Circle, used to summon powers from the Heavens."
I crossed my arms over my chest and clacked my tongue. "Put anything in Latin and it sounds mystical, huh?"
Nym ignored me except for a flat look and walked over next to West, picking up a match and lighting it. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach and my palms started to sweat, so I reduced back to my usual method of easing nerves: talking.
"For example, I could say concubitus and you would never know it means-"
"Shut up," Nym hissed as West started to laugh and the slow chanting that had been filling the room faltered for a few seconds. "This is the ritual that will allow you to become one of us. Once you take this match, there is no going back. If you pass, you pass, if you fail, you fail."
I frowned. "Nobody ever said anything about failing.... So, let's say, hypothetically, I do fail, then what, hypothetically, happens? Does the whole voodoo witch circle blow up?"
Nobody answered. I nervously caught Jack's eye and he nodded at me encouragingly. I knew this was going to be a bad day, I thought as Nym stretched out her hand holding the lit match.
"If you take this, you can't step out of the circle," she warned.
"Like, forever?"
If I wasn't in the Caelestia Circle she probably would've kicked my ass into next week. I bit my lip. This whole thing seemed completely surreal still, like it was a dream and it didn't matter what I did, because it was just a dream. But it wasn't, so it did matter. If I took the match, then I wouldn't be able to live with Noah again, or see Maisie, or probably get that recording deal I'd been hoping for all my life. But then I wondered, was it the recording I wanted, or a different life? A chance to change the way my future looked.
Slowly, I reached my hand up and took the match. The second I did, West's voice started chanting faster and a sickeningly hot wind blew my hair back from my face. An almost glass like wall seemed to shoot up around me and my eyes went wide. I ran up to it, reaching out a hand to touch it.
"No!" Jack shouted, and my hand froze, fingers millimeters from the wall.
My heart spluttered uncontrollably, making me step back. Jack leveled the knife in his hand and threw it through the wall. Its hilt sank into the middle of the wooden section I was trapped in.
Nym stepped closer so her nose was an inch from the barrier. "Light the circle with the match."
I raised my eyebrows. "You want me to light your floor on fire?" I tried to sound cocky, but my voice quavered and gave me away.
"Just do it," she glared.
I shrugged and knelt down so the fire on the match connected with the charcoal line. A shriek left me as the flame caught and crackled menacingly, whisking around the perimeter of the circle. I spun frantically to follow the fire until it enclosed me inside in a deadly ring of fire. West's chanting echoed around the circle, bouncing off the walls and almost sounding ghost-like.
I clamped my hands over my ears. "Could you tell him to stop? It's freaking me out."
Autumn shook her head and mimed zipping her lips. The echoing voice of West didn't stop. It made me shiver uncontrollably until I turned into a quivering ball on the floor, huddled around myself.
"Pick up the knife." There was a load roar in my ears that almost masked the sound of a voice. Obediently, I pulled the knife from the floorboards and clenched it in my hand. "Cut your left forearm all the way up. Let your blood drip onto the floor."
No! I screamed. No! I won't!
My mind told me not to, to throw the knife across the room and shatter the wall that was keeping me prisoner, but I couldn't. Something decidedly not me made me raise the knife. It reflected the flames surrounding me and a whimper crept out of my mouth. The knife came flashing out and blood sprayed across the floor.
I screamed and bent over, hugging my split arm to my chest. Blood soaked through the thin fabric and made me shiver as it touched my stomach. I gasped out loud, resisting the desire to puke my guts out all on the floor. My breath was coming out in choppy spirts as I painstakingly raised my head to meet my eyes with Jack's. His were a hard gray, staring stonily at my cringing face. He nodded.
The fire wall lept in front of my eyes, marking the last thing I remembered.
***
"You're a long way from home, Holly Winters." A man's voice floated into my consciousness and very slowly, I unclenched my eyes.
I was sprawled on the hard wooden floor of a heavily graffitied room. The clothes on me were unfamiliar: a red skater dress that made me scowl in distaste and black heeled boots with silver spikes. Practically a murder weapon, I couldn't help thinking. A well worn jean jacket hid my shoulders.
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered and gingerly got to my feet. I wobbled, thanks to the freaking six inch heels.
"I'm afraid I'm not."
I spun around. A tall man with dark skin and white hair met my gaze. He leaned forwards on a cane to examine me. The material of his crisp white shirt crinkled at the elbows.
"Should I do a twirl?" I drawled.
He answered simply, "No, that won't be necessary," like my sarcasm didn't even register. It kinda ticked me off for no apparent reason.
"So you gonna tell me where I am or just stare at me the whole time like I'm some kinda sculpture?" I said and crossed my arms.
He spread one arm to gesture around the graffitied walls. "An illusion, entirely created and inhabited by your mind. This is where your mind believes it belongs."
I stared at him and set my jaw. With a sneering nod, I turned in a circle to look at the room. Words in every color imaginable were spray painted onto the wall with varying degrees of neatness. This was where I belonged? In all this vandalization? There wasn't even anything inspirational written on the walls; it was all crap.
"Well, I must say, my subconscious picked a hell of a place to go," I said. "Do I live a double life as a vandal that I don't know about?"
The guy didn't laugh. Hell, he didn't even crack a smile. He took a few long steps so he was right in front of me and bent down to eye level. I itched to back up, but it was like my feet were glued to the floor. A hand closed around my left forearm and jerked it up sharply. A long, deep gash sliced all the way from my wrist to my elbow. There was no blood and, surprisingly, no pain. A faint feeling crept over me, and I shook my head to try and shake the feeling off.
"Let go of me."
"Curious, Holly, very curious," he mused, ignoring any sign that I'd spoken.
I frowned, forgetting my resists against his grip. "What's curious?"
His eyes looked so deep into mine I squirmed. He dropped my arm back at my side and almost floated over to the wall, his back to me.
"You cut yourself all the way to the bone." I felt my pulse jump and looked at my arm in horror. Had I really? "When I told you to, I never said how deep. Most barely even graze their skin, self preservation being their first instinct of course. But you... you went deep." He turned to face me. "My question is, why?"
Staring at the slice in my arm was making me dizzy. I'd cut myself, I had, it was all coming back to me now. The ring or fire that I'd lit, and the chanting, and the knife that I'd taken and lifted....
"You made me do this?" I yelled.
"Yes."
"Son of a bitch!"
I tried to jump at him, but my feet wouldn't move. I snarled and jerked around wildly to free them from the ground. The man leaned against the wall idly, watching me struggle. I twisted my ankle sharply and collapsed onto the ground. With a shock, I couldn't feel any pain in my ankle, though I was sure it should be broken.
My heart rate kicked up.
"Where am I, really?" I asked quietly. The man didn't say anything, just crossed his arms. I was so tired of the silent game. "What happened to me?" I shouted and felt the strain on my voice. "Tell me."
"I wasn't expecting such a nasty tempered fireball when I was called upon, I'll give you that," he chuckled dryly and rubbed his face.
I narrowed my eyes and tried to move my hand to flip him off, but those seemed to be stuck to the floor to. Great, just great.
"You really wanna know, Holly?" he sighed and I nodded feverishly. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."
"I won't, trust me." My voice was poison.
He chuckled, like he was sharing an inside joke with himself.
"You're dead."
