Page 47 of Claws for Celebration
"But what if it's not lying about the consequences? What if I really am the key to freeing something that could destroy the world?"
"Then we make sure you're strong enough and smart enough to choose a different lock to open." Twyla's hand found hers, warm and steady in a way that reminded Moira of Lucien's comforting presence. "Honey, you've got an entire community of magical practitioners who want to help you figure this out. You don't have to face this alone."
But even as Twyla spoke words of encouragement, Moira felt the grimoire's influence pressing against her consciousness like a persistent headache. The whispers that had started as background noise were becoming louder, more insistent,promising power and purpose if she would just stop fighting her destiny.
The community will abandon you when they understand the threat you represent. The mate has already fled. How long before the others follow? Accept what you are, daughter of shadows. Embrace the power that is your birthright.
"I can hear it," Moira said, opening her eyes to meet Twyla's concerned gaze. "The grimoire. It's not just showing me text anymore. It's speaking directly into my mind."
"That's not good," Twyla said grimly. "Mental compulsion means the magical connection between you and that book has strengthened beyond normal artifact interaction."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we need help, and we need it fast." Twyla stood, already reaching for her phone. "I'm calling an emergency gathering of every magical practitioner in Hollow Oak. If this grimoire thinks it can psychologically manipulate one of our own, it's about to learn what happens when you mess with a united supernatural community."
As Twyla began making urgent phone calls and Moira struggled against the increasingly intrusive mental whispers from the Shadowheart Codex, she found herself hoping that Lucien's tactical withdrawal wouldn't prevent him from answering the call for help.
Because facing an ancient evil that had been planning her corruption for three centuries was bad enough.
Facing it alone, without the mate bond that had given her strength and stability, felt like a battle she was destined to lose.
The grimoire's whispers grew louder, more seductive, promising that surrender would end the pain of isolation and transform her anguish into unlimited power.
And despite her conscious resistance, part of Moira was beginning to wonder if giving in might be easier than continuingto fight forces that seemed determined to destroy everything she'd grown to love.
27
LUCIEN
The Council safehouse felt like a tomb, its sterile walls offering none of the warmth and character that had made the bookstore feel like home. Lucien sat at the small table in the main room, surrounded by ancient texts about dimensional prisons and shadow lords, trying to research their enemy while ignoring the way his panther clawed frantically at his control.
Twenty-six hours since he'd walked away from Moira. Twenty-six hours of watching Hollow Oak's magical grid flicker like a dying lightbulb as her emotional distress destabilized everything the town's defenses relied upon.
His plan to slow her magical development through separation wasn't just failing. It was making everything catastrophically worse.
"Malphas the Destroyer," he read aloud from a particularly grim Council archive, his voice echoing in the empty room. "Shadow lord of the seventh realm, banished during the Great Convergence of 1692 after nearly consuming the Eastern seaboard. Known for feeding on magical energy and corrupting supernatural bloodlines to serve his purposes."
The description matched everything the grimoire had implied about the prisoner Seraphina had bound. An ancient entity that specialized in turning powerful magic users into weapons for his own resurrection. No wonder the Shadowheart Codex had been so focused on accelerating Moira's development while encouraging their mate bond to provide additional magical amplification.
His phone buzzed with another text from Maeve:Perimeter breach on the eastern approach. Magical surges from downtown getting stronger. Whatever you're doing isn't working.
Lucien's hands clenched into fists as he read the message. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to return to Moira's side, to provide the stability and support that would help her regain control of her abilities. But the research spread across the table painted a terrifying picture of what could happen if her power reached the threshold Malphas needed for release.
The sound of breaking glass from somewhere outside made him look up sharply, his enhanced hearing picking up the distinctive whistle of something moving fast through the night air. Then came the screams.
"Shit," he muttered, grabbing his weapons and communication gear as emergency alarms began wailing throughout Hollow Oak. His phone lit up with incoming calls from every Council member simultaneously.
He answered Varric's call while running toward the commotion. "What's the situation?"
"Coordinated vampire assault on three fronts," the elder's voice crackled with tension. "They're taking advantage of the magical instability to push through our weakened defenses. We need all available personnel."
"On my way," Lucien replied, but even as he spoke, his attention was drawn to a glow emanating from the direction ofthe bookstore. Golden light pulsed erratically against the night sky, visible even through the buildings that separated him from Moira's location.
"Lucien," Varric's voice carried a warning that made his blood run cold. "The magical surges are centered on your mate's position. If the vampires realize she's the source of the instability..."
"They'll go straight for her," Lucien finished, his panther roaring to life with territorial fury that made his vision blur red around the edges. "How many vampires are we talking about?"
"Viktor's entire coven, plus reinforcements. At least a dozen hostiles moving through the downtown core."
