Hopeless Magic (Star-Crossed #2)

The pain was indescribable and I let out a scream of agonizing horror, wheeling in nausea. My magic could not move fast enough to repair my broken cranium and stop my brain from hemorrhaging. When my vision finally returned and my skull became solid once again, it was too late, the attacker was already standing over me, stomping his thick boot down forcefully on my throat, cutting off the oxygen once again.

Forcing my nerves under control and taking one final breath, I sent a rush of all the magic I had left through my veins and shivered under the force of it. And thankfully, when my magic was in full force, I actually didn't need to breathe. I grabbed his foot as strongly as I could, my delicate hands seemed miniscule next to his thick calf and steel toed boot. I pushed with everything I had, pushing him thirty feet the opposite direction and finally giving myself plenty of room to breathe.

With a quick intake of breath, I was on my feet and next to him. I raised my left foot and brought it down heavily onto his face, both feeling and hearing his nose shatter underneath the sole of my navy blue clog. Seemingly immune to pain, however, he reached up and grabbed my arm, pulling me down on top of him. I struggled and flailed my appendages but still he wrestled me underneath him. I let out a scream of frustration, exhausted from the effort and unwilling to lose my life to such a brutal assassin.

"What do you want?" I shouted into his recovered face, fighting to keep his hands away from my exposed throat. Sweat poured down my beaten face, despite the icy rain that began to fall from the sky.

"I know who you are," he growled menacingly.

I didn't doubt that he did. There was pure hate behind his eyes. My magic was dissipating from my veins in a steady stream into his open palms. Wherever his skin touched mine, there was a portal to withdraw my life's blood.

"And you think by killing me, what? You think by draining my magic you'll what? You'll have eternal life?" I mocked harshly, downplaying what was probably the truth.

"I know that I will," he replied with frightening certainty.

As I struggled for breath and consciousness under his iron grip, my short life as an Immortal began to flash before my eyes: my confusion, meeting Kiran, Amory's guidance, Avalon, Lilly, the Resistance, my first fight…. my first fight! I drained those boys of their magic without touching them once. This man, whoever he was, seemed to need physical contact in order to take my magic. I didn't.

I focused what little energy I had left on taking his magic. I concentrated on whatever I could find, pulling magic from remote places I didn't know existed, willing him to give up what was rightfully mine, but it was no use. I was too weak. Whatever advanced skill I used in that first battle had been drained from my blood and the attacker now possessed it.

He was really starting to piss me off.

And then it dawned on me. He could take my magic by touching me, but I was also touching him. I didn't have to take his energy remotely; I could take it back the same way he was.

I sucked in another labored breath and focused this time, not on an idea or concept, but on his actual flesh. I focused on his knees that were digging into my thighs to keep me pinned to the ground. I focused on his hands holding my shoulders tightly to the concrete and I focused on the tips of his boots digging into my ankles. Slowly, almost unnoticeably at first, I began to reclaim my magic.

At first our struggle resembled something like tug-of-war. I pulled a little magic back and he re-took the electricity again. I held my breath, not even allowing the effort of breathing to weaken my attempts. I pulled again, holding the small amount of magic in place for a second, and then a second longer and then two seconds longer.

A drop of sweat from his forehead landed on my nose and I realized, finally, that he was weakening. With renewed vigor I pulled another miniscule amount of energy from his veins into mine, holding onto it until I was sure it belonged to me once again. The next pull was longer still and the amount of magic enough to give me strength to continue.

I pulled and pulled and pulled, until I had drawn what was mine and more out of his pathetic veins. I pushed him off me with minimal effort and stood next to his body. He looked up at me with a primal fear, but even more than fear, with hate. I turned away, fully intending on leaving him just like that.

I walked five feet, but it was not enough. Suddenly I was flying through the air, face first into the building I had half destroyed earlier. I burst through the destroyed brick, sending shrapnel and dirt all over the pristine lobby. I landed in a crumpled heap, thankful he hadn't taken any of my magic yet.

In only a few seconds I stood and crossed the distance between us. Sending a burst of magic at his kneeling figure, I knocked him to the ground with an unadulterated hate I didn't know I was capable of. Before he could even react I began extracting what was left of his magic, and I did not stop until he was completely drained, lying in a crumpled heap at my feet.

I stood above him, greedy with power, letting the new magic join my own, rushing, pumping, and intermixing with my blood. The electricity inside of me was hot with power, jumping and popping like bolts of lightning.

"Kill me," the man whispered hoarsely from his prostrate position on the cold, iced over concrete. "For the love of God, kill me."

I finally looked down at the crippled shell of a man and my heart unwillingly broke. What had I just done? Who was I? I wasn't a murderer. I couldn't take what wasn't mine just because he was willing to. Whoever this man was, I was not like him. I could not return the same hate.

He grabbed my foot weakly with both hands, begging me to end his misery. I closed my eyes, unable to look at him any longer and the tears streamed down my face. A choking sob escaped without permission and I failed to see any other option before me.

But then, to my great relief, a green SUV suddenly came to a screeching halt on the battle-torn street, destruction caused by my own hand. Avalon and Jericho jumped out of the still-running vehicle and were at my side in moments. Avalon, now sharing not only my consciousness, but my emotions as well, opened his arms to me and I fell into them. I wept heavily, unable to calm my broken heart. I couldn't have really been about to kill him.

Jericho shouted orders at Avalon, who shouted back, but refused to let go of me. I held on to him tighter, afraid he would obey Jericho's heartless commands. I was aware of Jericho tying the man up and carrying him to the trunk of his vehicle. I was also aware of Avalon depositing me into his back seat, never once leaving my side.

In minutes Jericho had dropped us back at Avalon's truck and had sped away into the heart of Omaha. I didn't know what Jericho would do with him, and I was not sure I really cared. The only thing that mattered to me now was that whatever happened to that horrible man would no longer be my decision.

In the safety of Avalon's truck, the tears stopped. The horror had lessened and the stolen magic was now as much a part of my blood as my own. I realized then, that particular assassin was not the only one out there with murderous intentions. I was naive to believe my identity was a secret and I was stupid to believe that only Lucan would be interested in the precious magic only Avalon and I carried.

He would not be the last adversary I would have to fight and he would not be the last attacker I drained of all vital Immortality. I was fighting a battle bigger than myself, bigger than a love affair, and much bigger than high school. Lines were being drawn and barriers being crossed. The war had begun and my indecision would no longer stand.

Chapter Eleven

"Morning," Avalon grunted to me on the way back from the bathroom.

"Mmmm-hmmm...." I responded sleepily. I rubbed at my face and walked bleary-eyed towards the direction Avalon was coming from.

I was exhausted from last night. The assassin's dark and ominous face was still burned in my memory and I shivered as I brushed my teeth. I wrapped one arm around myself and stared confused at my ragged reflection in the mirror. Who was the girl staring back at me?

My hair was a tangled mess of impossible curls, extra frizzy from going to bed with them wet. Showering last night was a non-issue after coming home caked in dirt, grime, blood and the filthy feeling of being so near such a possessive evil. My eyes were clear of makeup and my face washed out and paler than normal. I looked ten years older at least; I half checked my head for grays.

I felt worse than even ten years older, more like thirty. I reminded myself I was only sixteen, my birthday was still four months away; but over the last three months I felt as though I had aged well beyond my decade and a half of life.

Shouldn’t I be more concerned with shopping and cheer-leading than with civil wars and living for eternity? For someone who was supposed to have Immortal life, I spent most of my time trying not to die.

The thing was, as cool as the whole magic and Immortality life was, I could have been equally as happy living a normal life and dying of old age, or dying really, at any age. When I thought I was human, I accepted that death was a part of life; like Kiran once told me, when there was a cost to living; living became that much more significant.

Now that I seemingly had the rest of eternity to live, my life was threatened at every turn. I didn't know many other high school girls fighting assassins and bounty hunters, and hiding from kings. Even Avalon couldn't relate, although thanks to the connection he could at least empathize, although not by choice. But even still, he chose his path in this life, and not only that, no one had signaled him out so universally.

Maybe I was just being a drama queen, but I didn't ask to carry the weight of an entire race on my shoulders. I didn't ask to be so powerful or so significant. I had always been happy fading into the background. Where was the normality to this life? Where was my security and sense of safety? I was going to give myself a heart attack from paranoia.

I couldn't even stay home from school today. Last night I fought a nasty battle, where my life was practically taken from me. I may have won, but it was at a terrible price. I thought that justified taking a personal day.

Nobody else thought so though. The powers that be, namely, Amory, Jericho and Avalon didn't want to raise suspicion. If I were to stay home, questions would be raised.... People would be sent to look for me.... Actions would be taken.... And so forth and so on.

When Amory came over late last night, he informed me that as of right now, nobody knew what happened to me or the other guy. Whoever sent the attacker could still be hoping for the best, still hoping that I was dead. If I showed up at school today as if nothing happened, and clearly I survived, that would send a message.

I wasn't sure I actually wanted to send a message. Especially not a threatening- “it's you're move, what are you going to do about it now” kind of message. I might as well have worn a t-shirt that said something like, "Hey bad guys, I'm here, I'm fine, no worries. I'll be ready whenever you want to, you know, try to kill me again."

A knock on the door brought me out of my internal rant. I could sense the magic from the other side of the door and realized that it was Jericho. After doing who knew what with the idiot who tried to kill me, he was assigned house duty here with Avalon. It was Amory's idea of upping security.

"I'll be out in a sec," I mumbled gruffly, working on the knots in my hair. And then saying, "Screw it," I threw my hair into a high bun, wrapping it impossibly through a hair tie over and over again until it was secure. I contemplated going sans makeup as well, but decided against it for the sake of all decency.