Spells Trouble, Kristin Cast [books to read in a lifetime .TXT] 📗

head. No, this time he would find a way to break free from his curse.

Polyphemus waded into the lake. He couldn’t feel the cool water against his skin, not in the same way he could in his true skin, but the sound was enough to make goose bumps rise from Dearborn’s arms. His heartbeat sped up and he dug his toes into the silt to keep from running back to shore. He wouldn’t let Nomia continue to control him. He balled his hands and fell back. Goode Lake enveloped him. His chest shuddered as he sank deeper and watched the sunlight blur against the water’s surface.

He couldn’t end the curse by dying in another realm. He’d learned that time and time again. There was no quicker path back to the torment of Tartarus. And the number of humans kept growing. He couldn’t kill them all. Nor did he want to. What he needed was an oracle, a vessel through which he could speak to the gods.

He tucked his feet under him and pushed himself back above water. He took a breath and ran his hands down his cheeks, pausing where he knew the scars lingered just beneath Frank Dearborn’s skin.

“This world doesn’t have an oracle.” He shook water from his ear. Droplets rained into the lake as he set his hands on his hips and stared out at the water. “But it does have magic. The gate to Tartarus proves that.”

He stiffened with realization. “This world would be overrun by vengeful, evil creatures if it wasn’t being protected.” He ran his hands through his hair as excitement crackled beneath his skin. He’d been so busy following the curse’s instruction, he’d never stopped to look at this world.

He ran to his clothes. Water splashed with each hurried step.

No, the humans didn’t have an oracle, but to protect this world, to protect this town, they must have a witch.

Polyphemus’s hands shook as he tugged on his pants and brushed the sand from his undershirt. He could find Goodeville’s witch. Like he’d watched death darken a person’s eyes, he could also see within them the fire of life, and magic’s flame blazed bright. He threw his shirt over his head and stuffed his sandy feet into his boots. He covered his mouth as a wet cough shook his barrel chest. He stilled and swallowed against the tickle building in his throat. It was starting again. His stomach lurched as he suppressed another cough.

Polyphemus needed to find the witch and he needed to find her fast.

Twenty-four

“A Cyclops?” Xena’s heart-shaped face screwed up in a grimace of disgust. She shook herself as if she could rid her body of the memory of the name. “That is why the eyes of the victims were missing. Polyphemus is compelled to gather them.” The cat person had been sitting on the arm of the couch, but she slid off it to curl up on the cushions as she wrapped a chenille throw around herself like she suddenly felt a chill. “It’s really rather horrible.”

“Wait, compelled? Why?” Hunter asked as she sat beside Xena, redoing her ponytail.

“And who’s Polyphemus?” Mercy said as she rejoined her family in the living room. She carried a tray that held three mugs of steaming hot chocolate and her cell phone. Em hadn’t called or responded to the last four texts she’d sent, but Mercy wanted to be sure her phone stayed close to her for when her best friend was finally able to reach out.

“Polyphemus is a Cyclops,” Xena answered matter-of-factly and then said no more while she batted at the fringed edge of the throw.

“Xena, we need more information than that,” said Hunter.

The cat person looked up at the twins and sighed. “I forget how inadequate the modern public education system has become. The Cyclopes were a race of barbaric giants who terrorized ancient Greece. Polyphemus was the most human of them. I do not recall exactly how his heart was broken, but it had something to do with a nymph.” Xena smoothed back her hair. “Such flighty little things. Anyway, his heart was broken and I believe he did something stupid—he was, after all, a male.”

The girls nodded in mutual female understanding.

Xena finished, “And he was cursed to seek that which he was lacking until he found that which could not be discovered—meaning the second eye he was born without.” She shrugged. “Or something like that. But you need not pity him. Even though he was the most human of the Cyclopes he was still a hideous, barbaric beast, and I do believe Polyphemus eats the eyeballs after he, well, harvests them.”

“Huh. That’s interesting,” said Hunter.

“Interesting? It’s disgusting and creepy, but less creepy than what happened out there by that tree today. Xena, you should’ve been there.” Mercy offered the mugs of steaming cocoa to Hunter and Xena, who took them gratefully. “It made my skin crawl when the cards revealed the footprints of the killer.” She shivered. “They appeared exactly where I was standing!”

“Thank you, kitten.” Xena blew quickly across the steaming top of the cocoa. “Being able to eat, or drink, chocolate is one of my favorite things about being a person,” she said.

In spite of the seriousness of everything they’d discovered that evening, Mercy couldn’t help asking, “What else do you like about being a person?”

The tip of Xena’s pink tongue touched the creamy cocoa. She frowned at it and blew a few breaths across it again before answering. “Well, I like my hair. It is spectacular, though that is no surprise. I have always had a lush, magnificent coat. I also do enjoy a little cannabis, especially at bedtime.”

“Isn’t your bedtime anytime you want to nap?” Hunter asked as she peeked up at Xena over the top of her mug of liquid chocolate and coconut cream.

“Well, yes, of course, kitten. I also am surprised by how very much I like to take a lovely bath. It almost makes up for how very much I dislike clothes.