He needed me, and considering I had just begged someone to kill me, I guess I needed someone, too—possibly someone licensed in psychiatry, but McKee would have to do.
Lokan was right about not being selfish. Ironically, I had been pulled back from the ledge by someone who was on a mission to kill me in the future. So twisted. When did my life get this complicated?
It wouldn't be long until he was my enemy. It was sad because I did feel some strange connection to him, just as he said—like we were family. Well, technically we were family, but I mean real family—the warm closeness you can only share with relatives. It shouldn't have been so prominent, considering I barely knew him and he was a vicious killer, but it was there.
A fight was coming, all of it spawned by bitter resentment that has been festering for centuries. I hated knowing that if his father hadn't killed himself, Lokan most likely would never have become a monster. But when and how was he planning to kill me? And what was Graven up to?
Sometimes I wished I could ask magic the questions that plagued me. There was no hierarchy in magic. The closest there had ever been was Isis and Allora. Even they didn’t have all the answers. There really needed to be a rule book or something to explain any and all situations, because I kept running into crap no one knew anything about. There also needed to be something to let you know when the rules changed—a magical whistle that blew like a referee calling a foul.
My thoughts were interrupted as we turned onto a driveway. An enormously glamorous mansion sat on a hill, complete with an immaculately manicured yard that seemed to be as large as a golf course. It made Iris's home and yard look like a shoebox in comparison.
The sparkling water fountain sat in the middle of the arced driveway, splitting up the loop. I half expected the mermaid in the center to be spewing liquid gold instead of mere water. I was fairly certain that my jaw was unhinged as I stared up at the sandstone home that towered o
ver us like a king's castle.
This place was hidden, sitting way off the small back road. It had markings—crests—like so many houses I had seen now. It was a magical house, but whose house was it?
"Where are we, McKee?"
He smiled, but it looked nervously excited. "You'll see. I think you'll like it here."
I turned to look out the window at the gorgeous stallions that were galloping up. I was about to ask if they were changers, when suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head. I tried to move, but darkness invaded my eyes, and phantom weights left my limbs immobile as everything faded around me.
Chapter 14
Trapped
Fear is a constant reminder of our mortality.
I groaned inwardly as my skull throbbed. My arms refused to move, but not because I felt paralyzed anymore. They were bound behind me and tethered to the chair I was sitting in.
The telltale killer stench was in the air, but it was so powerfully overwhelming and bountiful, making it unbearable. Quiet chatter piqued my interest, but I couldn't see. Fortunately, I wasn't blind—just blindfolded.
I wanted to scream, but the coarse fabric that was drawing my mouth back painfully was making that a little hard to do, considering it muffled each sound and restricted my vocal power. I started panicking and moving around until the chair tipped to the side, taking me with it. With me being bound, I couldn't do anything to defend myself. My already throbbing head bounced off the hard floor, and a pained whimper escaped me instead of the agony-laced scream.
Warm skin touched my hands, startling me and inciting more panic, but they were untying me.
"Was it really necessary to tie her up?" McKee growled. "What's she going to do?"
My blindfold came down, revealing McKee to me as he removed my gag and helped me up. I warily allowed him to take my hand and ease me up, slowly trying to understand what was going on in my groggy state.
McKee pulled the chair back upright, and he eased me onto it when my legs threatened to give out. My heart was thudding loudly in my chest as I slowly took in my surroundings, wondering where all the stomach-churning smells were coming from—or who.
The room looked like a normal, clean living room—if you didn't factor in the horrific stench. It was much too big to be called a mere living room, considering you could fit an entire orchestra in here and have room for an audience.
A large bay window was draped in red, satin curtains, and it was centered on the far wall. On the wall in front of me sat an oversized white fireplace.
"I like the dramatic affect, McKee. You know that by now," a girl's voice said, though no face was visible.
"What's going on?" I whispered, turning my accusatory glare at McKee.
Sickening chills invaded me, stealing what little bit of warmth I had left, as fear encased me and ensnared me with its unrelenting claws.
He smiled, denying me an answer. And his smile wasn't alleviating any of my fear. In fact, it only terrified me that much more. He was friends with these people.
I saw a guy with a bald head and a large chin come into view, and from there, numerous others started filtering in, each of them casually relaxing and keeping their space from me.
One guy leaned against the wall, smoking as he lazily looked me over. He was slender and creepy, his eyes almost covered by his shaggy hair. Then I saw McKee's mom and dad guarding the doorway, both of them expressionless—cold.