Charmed (The Witch Hunter #2)

A second part of the plan? Everything that had happened to me, every awful thing that I went through, it was all just part one of a larger plan? And if the Chief and his sister are really in charge of it all, then killing Frederick and Leo didn’t stop the Priory after all, like we’d thought it had.

“Unfortunately, that part didn’t go quite as planned,” the Chief continues. “The Family struck again, killing three-quarters of the sorcerer population in our hometown. Fed them to crocodiles. Can you believe such evil people exist?”

I lower my eyes, the realization that he’s talking about me and the swamp debacle the night after homecoming making heat blotch my cheeks. What would happen if he discovered I was the person who killed off the Priory?

“And worse,” he continues, “they erased the memories of countless innocent young ones, such as yourself, for God knows what reason.”

Liar. He just “erased” my memory five minutes ago. What other parts of the story are a lie?

“So why am I here?” I ask.

“I was getting to that.” He smiles at me. “Because we saved you. The Family, they kidnapped you and erased your memory. You see, you’d been a witness to their crimes, and they didn’t want you to spread the word. But we took you away in the cover of the night.”

He stares at me so long that I feel like he’s waiting for a response.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

“We just couldn’t stand that the Family was abusing innocent humans this way, and we couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t strike against you again. Fearing for your safety, we brought you here, to this place. To my home.”

“When do I get to leave?” I ask.

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but then he’s back to smiling that menacing smile.

“Soon, dear. See, what we want to do for you—for others like you—is to offer you protection against these evil people. We want to make you one of us.”

He wants to make me…a sorcerer? That’s impossible. At least, I think it is.

“Hold out your hand,” he says. I hesitate before I shakily offer it to him. He turns it so that my palm is facing up. A red spot appears in the center. I gasp as the spot blooms into a fresh red rose the size of an apple. Dewdrops cling to its velvety petals.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” He takes the rose from me, inspecting it up close. “This, little lamb, is nothing compared with what you will be able to do with our powers. Fancy a new outfit? A sporty car? You can have them. Everything is in the palm of your hand. Wish to make a boy love you, to make yourself beautiful? Do you have an enemy?” His palm closes over the rose, the petals strangled by his grasp. “Crush him.” He opens his palm and flourishes his hand—the petals turn to shimmering red dust that slowly sifts to the ground. His eyes glint as he smiles at me. “Would you like these powers?”

“What’s the catch?” I ask.

He grins. “You’re smart. See, there is a small catch. We will give you these wonderful, life-altering powers, send you back home to your friends and family with your memory restored. Life will be as it was, only better. And all we ask in return is that you show allegiance to us should a war erupt between factions. The chances of this are very slim—I can’t emphasize that enough. With the numbers we’ll have very soon, the Family won’t want to go to war with us—they wouldn’t take that risk. You likely wouldn’t hear from us ever again, except of course to say hello from time to time.”

“So what’s the second part of the plan?”

“Pardon me?”

“You said the first part of the plan was to steal the Bible—what’s the second part? Not to change me into a sorcerer just in case, right?”

“Well, unfortunately, that is highly sensitive, top-secret information. You’ll just have to trust me.”

I’ll get right on it.

“And what if I don’t agree?” I say. “Can I go home?”

His smile doesn’t falter, but his hands clench his knees like he might break them with his grip. “We’ve never had someone say no. But should you want to go home, to throw away all this potential, all this great power, then we certainly wouldn’t stop you. Take a minute to think about it. Really think about it.” He gets up and paces over to the desk, leaving me alone on the divan. He flips through papers with his back to me, though I can tell it’s just an act to make it seem like he’s not overly invested in my answer.

It’s all a lie. He’s using these humans for something else. Something much more sinister than what he’s admitted to. All I know for sure is that he wants revenge on the Family. The fire in his eyes when he spoke of them—you can’t fake that kind of hatred.

“I’ve made up my mind,” I announce. He turns around slowly, his eyebrows raised so high that his forehead creases with wrinkles. “I want to become one of you.”

His face breaks into a wide grin. “Excellent. I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Just then, a knock sounds on the door.

“Enter,” he calls cheerily. The door cracks open.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir,” a female voice calls.

I recognize that voice.

“It’s all right, dear, we’re finished. What would you like?” He waves the female forward. The door groans open farther, and the girl comes into view.

Jezebel.





18




At first I think my eyes must be playing tricks on me—there’s no way Jezebel could be in this place. And yet there she is, all five feet nine of her, gorgeous auburn waves trailing over the back of her moto jacket.

Has Jezebel been kidnapped too? If so, she’s doing a good job of hiding her fear; she looks just as at ease in this place as the Chief himself.

“Rowan’s sent through another three recruits,” she says.

“This is good news,” the Chief answers, smiling ear to ear as he steeples his fingers. “Delightful news.”

Jezebel gives one of her trademark tight smiles. “The word is they landed in rebel territory, but we’ve got teams out there looking for them. They should be back before sundown.”

“Excellent!”

“But there is a problem,” she says. “Rowan says the media are starting to notice all the disappearances. It’s made the national news, and she worries—”

Michelle Krys's books