The Vampire's Love (Otherworld Series #3)

22. Spells

It was so dark.

The dirty rag that Lunia had stuffed in Catra's mouth tasted salty and gross. It even stank. Catra tried to spit it out but only managed to get a better taste of it.

Or in her case.

A worst taste.

Her wrists were badly bruised from the rough ropes the chameleon elf had tied her with. She had tried unsuccessfully to free herself from them but it was useless.

They were too tight.

She groaned. Or tried to with the stupid, dirty gag in her mouth. She wriggled again, unable to give up.

She kept seeing Pius' handsome face and Peter's chubby baby face before her eyes. She couldn't give up. She had to do this...For them.

She could never live without her two males.

She survived being torn away from Pius.

She survived an ectopic pregnancy. 

She could do this.

She looked around the room for something that could help her. She wished that Lunia had thrown her into the kitchen instead of the storeroom.

The only things stored here were extra furniture and sacks of pillow stuffings. Thankfully she wasn't tied to anything and was just lying on the floor with her hands tied in front of her.

She looked around again.

There were niches in the wall with candles in them.

They were the only source of light. Maybe if a candle fell on hands it would burn away the rope.

But how could a candle just fall on her hands? It was just desperate thinking. She tried thinking of another stupid idea but her mind kept wandering towards the candles.

They seemed like her only hope.

She wished that her legs weren't tied so that she could at least stand up and walk towards them. Lunia had rushed to throw her in this room. The gods should have taken pity on Catra and should have made Lunia forget to tie Catra's legs.

But alas she could only dream of such things.

Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away and told herself to be brave.

She looked around again. Desperate for something. Something that could help her.

Suddenly, gun shots rang out,  scaring the hell out of Catra.

Her heart started beating fast. She felt fear for Pius and also relieved that Peter was not here.

She took deep breath and whispered stupid things in her mind. She looked at the candles again.

I wish the candle would suddenly fly and come towards me. She thought to herself. It was her desperate thinking again. But she repeated the words in her mind again and again.

She thought of rhyming words and tried to for a spell of some sort, just trying to waste time and calm herself.

Candle, Candle fly high,
Come towards me,
Don't be shy.

She said, in her mind and laughed at herself. How stupid.

She opened her eyes and concentrated.

No shots rang out now. She tried to sign in relief but the dirty cloth muffled her voice. Then she stiffened as she felt something hot fall on her leg.

She looked down towards the substance drying on her leg.

Wax?

What was...

She looked up and shreiked, jerking back.

The candle was levitating in the air. Nobody was holding it. Nobody supporting it. It was just there. Waiting for a command.

Catra blinked. Maybe Lunia's drug was doing something to her mind. She was surely imagining things.

This was not real.

But maybe it was.

Catra raised her hand.

Her fingers were free, thankfully. So, she closed her eyes and poked the levitating candle.

It was still hanging there when she opened her eyes. 
Maybe it was real.

Catra shrugged and put her tied hands up and towards the candle.

Heat seared the flesh at her wrists. But the rope darkened and soon Catra's hands were free.

She plucked the candle out of the air and examined it.

How was this possible?

Had she done something? Had her spell worked? Was she a witch or something? What did she do?

She looked around.

Maybe she could do it again.

"Open Sack!" She said, aloud and pointed a the sack. 
Nothing happen.

Okay, maybe this room was enchanted or something...or maybe she had to think of a spell..
She closed her eyes again and thought of the sack.

The sack was fat...another word for fat...stout...rhyming word for stout...

Mouth.

Got it.

Sack so stout,
Open your mouth.

The sack obeyed. It suddenly fell forward and the opening that was stiched close started undoing and opening. The sack was now open wide.

Revealing the pillow stuffings that were inside.

Catra beamed. Oh my god. Someone needs to see this.

She stood up and dusted herself, throwing the candle to the side. And she started clapping her hands and jumping like a little girl.

She had never been so glad in her life for winning all those rhyming word competitions as a child.

Suddenly shots started ringing out again.  She ran towards the door and tried to push it open. It was locked.

Damn. 

She thought about her new ability. Maybe it could work on the door too.

She thought of rhyming words. Tall. Call. She smiled, smugly.

Door so tall,
Open on my call.

She said the spell in her mind and heard the click of the door.

"Open, door." She said and the door opened with a loud groan.

She laughed as she ran out and towards the sounds of bullets.

"Ohf. " She dashed into a tall and dark figure. The person quickly caught her shoulders to prevent her fall.

"Catra." She heard Penelope's excited voice.

She looked at the other vampire before looking towards the man that was holding her.

"Nikolai Shizkov." She said, a smile tugging at her lips. 

They were going to crash the party.