Spellbound (Spellbringers Book 1) Page 2

  So, who was Jace with? It wasn’t anyone I recognized. I slowed my stride, reluctant to draw attention to myself. Most of my fellow classmates despised me, and since the feeling was mutual, I tried to avoid contact with them whenever possible. For a moment, I considered turning back and taking a different route, but decided against it. The cheerleaders were practicing outside and the last thing I wanted to do was draw Becky’s attention.

  I trudged forward, still trying to identify the person Jace was walking with. The guy next to Jace was a few inches taller and had a very muscular physique. Maybe he was a football player, but if so, why was he walking with Jace instead of practicing with his team? The guy pushed Jace. Jace shoved back. Books fell from Jace’s arms into the grass as the two guys scuffled.

  The bigger guy chuckled and shouted, “Wimp.”

  I’d been paying such close attention to Jace, I’d unconsciously increased my speed and was close enough to see the other guy’s face. He looked a lot like Jace. Maybe he was an older brother or a cousin.

  The two guys hadn’t noticed me yet, so I ducked into the woods, hoping the thick brush would conceal me. The large guy turned when my backpack hit the ground at my feet, but after a few seconds of staring into the woods, he focused his attention on Jace once again.

  “Dad went to the hardware store. When he gets back, he has a project for us.” Okay, so the big guy must be Jace’s brother.

  “Oh, joy.”

  “He wants to finish the training room before I leave.”

  “You know how much I love training,” Jace replied, leaning over to pick up his books.

  “You might not like training, but you sure do need it. Seriously. You suck.”

  “Oh, yeah? Watch this.”

  The books hit the ground. Jace abruptly disappeared from where he’d been standing and reappeared behind his brother. I blinked and staggered back a step, nearly tripping over my backpack.

  “You idiot,” the older brother said, turning and grabbing Jace’s upper arm. “Anyone could have seen you.”

  “But no one did,” Jace said, jerking away. He retrieved his books and started to walk again.

  His brother followed him. “Dad’s gonna be pissed when he finds out about this.”

  “You don’t have to tell him.”

  I couldn’t hear anything else because by the time the older guy spoke again they were too far away from me. I emerged from the woods, shaken. I could have used the heat and my own exhaustion to explain away what I saw, but something obviously happened—Jace’s older brother was furious about it. But what did happen? It looked like Jace disappeared. No. That was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  On trembling legs, I renewed my trek home. For the first time ever, I wished I’d taken the bus. Then I could have avoided seeing what I saw, if in fact I saw anything at all. I still hadn’t ruled out the idea of hallucinations brought on by the heat.

  When I reached my house and the glory of air conditioning, I stripped off my sweaty clothes, again wondering about what I thought I saw. It was bizarre. Unexplainable. Impossible. Probably a figment of my very overactive imagination, a result of reading too many fantasy novels. I’d always wanted to be a writer and was constantly composing stories in my mind. Maybe this was a case of my storytelling gone awry. Yep. That’s what it was.

  As I changed into fresh clothes and ran a brush through my hair, I began to weave a new tale. I daydreamed about Jace asking me out, our eventual engagement, marriage, children…A ridiculous fantasy, but it helped pass the time. Jace would never choose me over Becky. But then again, he’d managed to resist her so far.

  Jace wasn’t the only person who’d resisted my cousin. I could only hope he would be able to hold out longer than the last guy. Back in middle school, Becky and I both liked the same boy, but when he expressed interest in me instead of her, she retaliated by spreading vicious rumors about me. Too shy to fight back, I remained silent while the whole school turned against me. Long after the boy moved away, long after Becky fell in love with someone else, the repercussions of that ill-fated crush continued to haunt me. I thought about Jace and how I might be willing to go through the whole love-triangle drama all over again on the off-chance that he might return my interest.

  While all the other girls my age moved forward into their teenage years, buying the latest fashions, perfecting makeup techniques, and highlighting their hair, I sat at home reading. I never giggled with girlfriends while doing manicures and makeovers. I looked the same way I did in middle school. My long, brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. I wore jeans and baggy t-shirts or hoodies to hide the extra ten or twenty pounds that plagued my short frame. I didn’t wear a trace of makeup and I never painted my nails. It was no wonder I was the odd girl out. In my current state, I’d never attract Jace or any other guy.

  Maybe it was time to face reality. My best bet was to muddle through high school, go to college out of state, and move as far from Oaktree as possible. There was nothing for me in Oaktree—no friends, no future, and certainly no tall, dark, handsome stranger who would fall hopelessly in love with me. That sort of thing only happened in romance novels.

  ***

  I overslept Monday morning and was running late. I usually listened to music while getting ready for school, but today, I had the pleasure of getting ready to the angry sounds of my mother shouting up the stairs.

  “Alisa, you’re going to be late.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m coming.”

  I threw my hair up into a messy bun, jammed a pair of flip-flops on my feet, grabbed my backpack, and ran down the stairs. I was halfway to school before I realized I was probably going to have the single most embarrassing day of my entire life.

  It was bad enough that my hair was still damp, and that each one of my toes were painted a different color because of my weekend attempt at finding out whether or not I was suited to warm or cool colors. No. The real tragedy was the fact that, instead of grabbing my faded pink t-shirt with the retro throwback to a favorite cartoon character of yore, I grabbed the pink shirt my mom had picked out for me over the summer—the one that said “Too Cute” across the front in sparkly pink paint. It was a shirt I never wore in public. In fact, I only wore it around the house a few times to show my mom I appreciated her gift.

  Unfortunately, it was the same shirt Cathy Delinios had worn for pictures last year, the same shirt Becky made fun of, the same shirt the whole school had been making fun of by the end of that day. Yep, and that was the shirt I was wearing right now. Oh, yeah. I was so dead.

  “Mom, can we go back home?” I asked.

  “No. No way. I’m supposed to meet a client in twenty minutes at a house that’s thirty minutes away. I’m already running late.”

  “Please.”

  “Why?”

  “Um, my shirt has a stain on it,” I lied.

  “When you get to school, go to the ladies room and try to dab it off with a wet paper towel,” she said irritably.

  Great. Just great. As if my life wasn’t enough of a living hell, I had an entire of day of “Alisa thinks she’s too cute,” to look forward to. Becky would be sure to draw everyone’s attention to my fashion faux pas.

  I removed a binder from my backpack, determined to use it as a shield. If I could hold it in front of me on the way to class, no one would really see what my shirt said. And then if I slumped down in my desk, or hunched down and crossed my arms in front of me, maybe that would hide the damning declaration written across the front of my shirt. Hopefully.

  I slinked into the classroom, slid into my seat, and prayed for death. Becky entered moments later, her eyes instantly landing on me. It’s like she had some sort of Alisa-humiliation-radar.

  “Oh, my God, Alisa. Aren’t you just Too Cute today?” she squealed. “I’ll bet everyone is going to think you’re Too Cute, and do you know why? Because it says it right there on your shirt.” The laughter from a half dozen students accompanied the punchline of her unfunny joke.

/>   Rachel stepped in front of Becky, interrupting her. “Can you help me talk to Coach Patrice after school? If there’s money in the budget, we really need to push for new uniforms.”

  Distracted, Becky took her seat. She ranted about the current cheerleading uniforms, complaining about every aspect from the skirt length to the color. Rachel caught my eye and winked at me. She’d done it on purpose. She’d deliberately distracted Becky and kept her off my back at least temporarily. Rachel was my new favorite person. She was a lifesaver.

  Just as I began to retreat behind my textbook, I heard a voice I’d often heard in my dreams.

  “Hi, Alisa. Did you have a good weekend?” Jace asked.

  What should I say? I couldn’t remember how to talk. “Yeah, you?” I finally managed to squeak out. Not the most brilliant and longwinded of speeches, but at least it was something.

  “All right, people,” Mrs. Hanks said, slamming the classroom door behind her as she entered. “This isn’t a coffee shop, Evan. Get rid of the drink immediately. Becky, don’t stop talking on my account. By all means, finish your conversation.”

  The class quickly settled down. When it came to bringing a classroom full of unruly students to order, Mrs. Hanks was masterful.

  ***

  As I set out across the field toward home, it was easy to ignore the heat in favor of fantasizing about Jace. I’d only known him for a few days, but he’d already spoken to me twice.

  Halfway across the field, I spotted Jace. He was with his brother again. Or at least that’s what I thought at first glance. I hung back, watching as Jace and his brother circled each other. This time, their stances were more menacing. It didn’t look like they were messing around—not this time. I moved forward, slowly approaching, and after a couple of yards, I realized this guy wasn’t the same man I’d seen last week.

  The man’s clothing was tattered, his hair matted. It was difficult to determine his age, but he was definitely an adult—he was at least a head taller than Jace. He was so filthy, he looked like he’d been camping out in the woods for days or even weeks.

  The man lunged forward with a snarl and Jace leapt to the side, barely avoiding his grasp. A shriek escaped my throat as I stumbled back a step.

  Jace looked over his shoulder. His eyes went wide. “Don’t come any closer.”

  I took another step back and tripped over my own feet. The attacker took advantage of the brief distraction caused by my startled cry. He flew toward Jace and pinned him to the ground. The man clenched his hand around Jace’s throat. Jace struggled for about a minute, and then stopped moving.

  Paralyzed, I stared at the scene before me, unable to react. Thoughts darted through my mind and for one rational moment, I considered calling 911. The attacker didn’t seem to care what I did. In fact, he barely acknowledged me at all. Without considering the consequences of my actions, I sprinted forward and swung my heavy backpack at the man’s face. I hit him dead on, and he turned his attention to me for a second or two. His blood-red eyes bore into mine and I recoiled.

  The red-eyed man was distracted enough to release his death grip, allowing Jace to escape. He scrambled away from his attacker and leapt to his feet. They faced off once again. Jace crouched low and sprang toward the man. The attacker bared his teeth and darted out of the way. A ball of fire appeared in the palm of his hand, and he hurled it at Jace. Palms up, Jace raised his hands and the fireball sizzled into nothing.

  In a fraction of a second, Jace disappeared and abruptly reappeared behind his attacker, just like he’d done last week when he was messing around with his brother. With supernatural speed, he jumped at the man and hooked his arm around his neck. He wrenched the man’s head to the side. The red-eyed attacker slumped to the ground. Swiping his hand across his sweaty forehead and breathing heavily, Jace leaned forward, his hands on his knees. He glanced up at me, as if suddenly remembering I was still there.

  We stared at each other for a moment. Jace walked over to me and asked, “Are you okay?”

  I nodded.

  “We need to get out of here in case there are more of them,” he said, gesturing toward the lifeless body on the ground a few feet away from us. I flinched. Jace walked back and forth through the tall grass, scrutinizing the area closely. He bent down and picked up a textbook.

  “Let’s go,” he said. When I didn’t move, he walked over to me and took my hand. I pulled it away. It was all too much. The attack. The fire. All of it. I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. My hands shook spastically, and within seconds, tremors spread through my body as shock faded to terror.

  “Come on, Alisa. You’re safe with me. I promise.” He lifted my book bag from the ground and began walking away.

  Staring at the bag dangling from his shoulder, I irrationally wondered whether or not it was a crime weapon and if my limited participation made me an accomplice to a murder. I questioned the wisdom of not having called the police.

  “Should I call 911?” I asked stupidly. “I’m sure you won’t be in trouble. He attacked you first. I’m a witness.”

  He turned back to look at me. “Alisa, that thing back there isn’t dead. You can’t kill a Hunter that easily. He’s just stunned. There could be more of them, so we should get out of here.”

  “What’s a Hunter?” I stammered, my teeth chattering. Tears came, but I fought them back. I’d cried enough in front of my classmates. I wouldn’t cry in front of Jace.

  He seemed reluctant to answer. “Um, it’s hard to explain. You saved my life, though. Come on. My mom can explain this much better than I can.”

  “Your mom?”

  “We’ll go back to my house. Is that okay?”

  His house? No. After what I’d seen, I just wanted to go home. I glanced away, my gaze falling on the red-eyed man. I could either follow Jace, or walk home by myself. What if Jace was right and the Hunter wasn’t dead? Would he awaken and follow me home? Obviously, I was no match for the red-eyed man, so I decided to take my chances with Jace.

  We left the field and took a shortcut through the woods. When we approached the rear border of one of the newer subdivisions in town, Jace helped me over the low fence enclosing his backyard. We stepped through the back door and into his kitchen.

  “Mom. Hey, are you home?” he bellowed.

  “Jace, you’d better have a good reason for yelling like that in the house,” a voice called out. A beautiful woman with caramel skin and curly, ebony hair came into the room. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t realize you’d brought a friend.” Her eyes widened and a flash of recognition lit up her eyes, but only for a second.

  “This is Alisa. I was walking home and she…well. Yeah. She saved me from a Hunter,” Jace said.

  His mother gasped, swaying on her feet. So much for breaking the news gently, I thought. In a rush, Jace relayed a garbled version of events, and I wondered how she would be able to make sense of such a confusing recount. When he got to the part about me hitting the Hunter with my bag, his mother put her hand on her heart and flashed me a tearful half-smile.

  “Jace, thank God you’re safe.” She pulled him close. “I couldn’t bear to lose another son. Alisa,” she cried, releasing Jace and pulling me into a hug. “Thank you.”

  As I stood in an unfamiliar kitchen locked in the embrace of a woman I’d just met, I was adrift in a fog of confusion. These people spoke of Hunters and weird, supernatural abilities as if they were perfectly commonplace. Who were they, and more importantly, what were they?

  “Jace.” A deep, icy voice drifted in from the kitchen doorway.

  Mrs. Alexander released me and I turned around. It was the same man I’d seen last week—the guy I assumed was Jace’s older brother. I wondered how long he’d been standing there listening in on the conversation. His eyes caught mine, and the look he gave me was searching and uncomfortable. I blushed and looked down at my feet.

  “Dad will be home soon. I think we should wait for him to get here before we say anything else, don�
�t you?”

  I dared another glance at Jace’s older brother. He would have been extremely attractive with his tall, muscular frame, and rich, chocolate skin, had it not been for his cold and off-putting demeanor. I shivered as my eyes met his again.

  “She saved my life, Bryce,” Jace argued. “She saw my magic firsthand. We owe her some explanation.”

  “She hit the Hunter with a book bag. Big deal. Why don’t we tell her all our family secrets, then?” Bryce crossed his arms in front of him and glared at his younger brother. Thick muscles bulged from his snug-fitting black t-shirt. He looked only slightly less intimidating than the red-eyed man who’d nearly killed Jace.