Page 34 of Dark Flame
She smacks the post, realizing begging isn’t doing shit for her. “What did I do to deserve this? Tell me!”
Miss Sinclair doesn’t get those facts yet. Especially now, when I’m a fraction away from sucking her dry and saying to hell with the consequences. I turn away before the meager thread of control still tied around me snaps.
“Alec!” She slaps the metal again. “Don’t ignore me! Get me out of here! The other cell.Please.”
Miss Sinclair doesn’t enjoy the smaller space? I keep walking, reaching the door.
“You realize I eat like a human, right? If you want me to stay alive, I’ll need more food. One apple won’t cut it.”
“Suffer. Then you’ll know exactly how I feel every single day you and your family live.”
I slam the door shut, zipping through the hallways until reaching my office. I stop short outside the door before my fist slams into the wood, creating a dent; one of many that’s been placed there over the centuries. At this point, there’s more busted wood than there are flat panels.
“Fuck!”
Her blood worked. It fuckingworked, and never in the history since its creation has there been a report of it not. Or working, and then the newly turned dying shortly after.
There also hasn’t been a report of a Sinclair—or any other witch, for that matter—not having their magick.
Are the two connected?
It’s with that question I enter my office, my enhanced senses immediately picking up what I was too distracted to in the hallway and zeroing in on the newcomer seated behind my desk. Her feet are propped up on the surface while she twirls the seat back and forth, head tipped back to stare at the ceiling.
It’s that witch who took down the barrier around the Sinclair house. Freya, the First Witch.
“You. How did you get in?”
Her head rolls, hair that’s now a bubblegum pink rather than white-blonde falling into her face as she circles her finger. “Magick, remember? Your pathetic defenses are nothing. Also, considering I’m the only reason you got to Harlow, the correct greeting was, ‘Hi, Freya, how are you? Welcome to my humble abode.’ Althoughhumbleisn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe this place.”
“You’re here to collect on that favour, I assume?”
I cross the room, standing on the other side of my desk. She drops her feet and straightens inmychair, sliding it in closer and propping her hands on the surface like she’s about to conduct a meeting.
“Not at all. I’m simply here to check in. Make sure she’s still alive and all that.” She centres her stare. “That’s a joke, by the way. I’ll know when a witch passes into the Otherworld.”
“Summerland.”
She tips her head in acknowledgement. “You do know your stuff.”
“I make it my mission to learn about my enemy.”
“Except you didn’t know about Harlow not having her magick,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“You did. ‘And good luck, Alec. She’ll make you wish you had some.’ You knew exactly what I was getting into.”
“And that isn’t even the best part.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, the nerves in my neck tightening.
She shrugs, then randomly starts opening my desk drawers and rifling through them. “One would think a vampire would have more interesting stuff in their desk.”
“Freya.” Agitation gnaws at me, but attacking the First Witch won’t end well. “Back to Sinclair, witch. The cure didn’t work—twice. She tried to shove it in my mouth, and later another vampire drank a glass of it. He changed into a mortal, but died while vomiting blood directly afterwards. It didn’t work because she doesn’t have her magick, correct?”
She finishes searching through my desk and returns with a folder, flipping it open to scan through the numerous deeds for the various lands I own worldwide. I’d inquire about the purpose, but based on her mindless flipping, I’m getting the sense this is Freya being herself and not because she’s searching for something.
“Hm, look at you figuring it all out. Yep, that’s correct. The cure is magickal; a spell placed on her bloodline by her coven’s old High Priestess. Harlow no longer has magick, so the cure doesn’t work anymore. It’s a part of her, which would explain why the vampire did transition, but the lack of power prevented it from being long-term. As for you, the cure won’t affect you. You could drink her dry, and it still wouldn’t.”
“How’s that possible?” I drop my palms onto the desk’s surface, leaning closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”
