The Trouble with Spells

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

    Rage boiled through my veins, giving me a sudden burst of power, which heavily fueled my adrenaline. I crossed the empty street and flung the bar door wide open, stepping inside only to see the bartender cleaning after he closed.

    "We're closed," he said automatically, before looking up.

    I was next to him in a flash. "Where are they?" I said, grabbing him around the neck with my hand and lifting him off the floor with a little push of power.

    "I can't," he choked out, his face reddening under my grip. "They'll kill me if I tell you."

    "And I'll kill you if you don't," I snarled back at him, feeling angry enough to actually do it.

    His eyes darted away from me, and I followed his quick glance toward the back of the bar. I butted his head against the shelves, and he sank to the floor. Quickly, I made my way toward the storage area and peeked around the corner.

    I could see one of Shelly's groupies leaning against a door, smoking a cigarette. He hadn't heard me because of the ear buds he was wearing. I could hear the music from here. Since he was facing away from me, I snuck up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, I punched him right in the face with all the magical force I had. I felt bone crunch beneath my fist, and he sank to the floor.

    Pushing him out of the way, I opened the door to reveal a wooden staircase, which descended into the black earth. I couldn't see any kind of light, and I had no idea what was down there. Quietly, I tiptoed down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. I levitated over three stairs at a time and pushed off the fourth. Finally, I reached the bottom, finding myself in a dark, narrow hallway.

    I walked toward a dim, glowing red light I could see coming from what looked like the crack at the bottom of a door. When I reached it, I stopped and listened, holding my breath.

    I could hear nothing.

    There were only two choices left for me now. I could go through the door or go back the way I'd come and call for help. Slowly, I turned the handle of the door, and silently swung it open. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, and then I gasped at the sight before me.

    Vance was sitting in the middle of the dimly lit room under a small red light bulb hanging from a string. He was bound in irons and strapped to a chair. The manacles holding him in place were obviously magically reinforced, a slight greenish glow emanating from them. Stripped to the waist, his head drooped against his chest. Slashes and bite marks covered his arms, and his veins were pitch-black, running up his neck toward his face.

    "Vance?" I called in a choked whisper, repulsed by the damage.

    His head slowly lifted toward mine, and his glowing, blood-red eyes stared straight into my soul.

    "Run!" was all he said, and I covered my mouth with my hands to stop the scream that threatened to escape.

    I did run—toward him, throwing myself at his feet and trying to find a way to loosen his bonds. He slumped over in the chair again.

    "Hang in there, Vance," I said frantically, hoping no one could hear the noise I was making, but then I heard a sound behind me. I jumped up, swinging around and coming face to face with Shelly.

    "He's mine now!" she spat viciously.

    "I don't think so!" I flung my hand out with a burst of magic and sent her flying across the room.