Page 107 of Dark Flame
With Fire joining us, a heat blankets the group.
And with Water joining us, my anxiety is momentarily washed away.
“Harlow,” she calls, stretching her hand towards me. “Join me in the centre please.”
Another squeeze from Carina before I release her and Jasper and walk towards Morgan, failing to ignore the intense attention from everyone around me.
Morgan clasps my hand to position me in the centre of the circle. “We need to focus every positive thought toward Harlow. Recall your memories of Emily and John. Remember any and all, no matter how brief, interactions you had with Harlow as a child. Focus on the fateful news we received and how the absence of the Sinclairs felt to us individually and as a whole. Control those thoughts and redirect them to one another, to a collective consciousness we can send to Harlow. I feel—I hope—we may help her retrieve memories long concealed.”
Alec’s voice rumbles in my head.I don’t like this.
I’m not sure I do either.
Morgan rejoins the circle, taking the hands of the witches on either side of her. “Are we ready?” Her question is for the coven, but her attention remains on me.
A murmur of agreement goes through the group, and I’m forced to nod.
Hellion...
I stare through the coven at him, hoping he recognizes from the distance what I’m trying to tell him. To remain hidden before we have a bigger problem. To not worry about me, because Morgan won’t let them hurt me.
I also look his way to seek comfort.
If you’re harmed at all, I’ll rip them apart. That’s a promise, not a threat, so tell them to consider how much voodoo shit they’re about to do. Your well-being isn’t up for debate. The memories, your past, nothing matters more than your present.
Strangely enough, his deadly promise eases me, even if I remain silent to the coven who’s trying to help.
“Begin.” Morgan’s demand circles the group and, one by one, witches and warlocks shut their eyes.
The clearing falls silent.
No wind. No animals. No sign of life.
It’s not working. They can’t do it.
Realizations crash upon me.
Arthur and Violet fucked me up too bad.
Morgan murmurs something I don’t catch.
And then—pain.
Blinding, agonizing pain that slams my knees to the ground, hands gripping my temples as throbbing pressure assaults my head. I bow over the grass, screaming into the earth, begging it to help me. To save me from this.
Harlow!
The murmurs around me grow louder, and though I’m not looking at any of them, sparks of blue and white fill the area, the combination of air and water magick swirling around me but not touching.
Stay away!I mentally yell at Alec, though he can’t hear me.
It’s all I manage before my mind gets yanked viciously to another time and place.
Forty-One
ALEC
I fucking hatethis ceremonial shit. Nothing ever good comes from witchcraft.
