Page 123 of Dark Flame
So I’m a weakness for you?
His low growl vibrates through my mind.You’re myonlyweakness, Hellion. If I ever bow to another, it’ll be at your feet or to save your life. You’re the only thing that can ever hurt me.
I know you’re joking or whatever, but if I can’t control black magick, that might be very well what happens.
I’ve already told you how I feel about your magick, so I refuse to argue about this again.
Accepting me doesn’t mean I’m unafraid, though. I finish dressing and head downstairs, planning for a brief stop by the kitchen for water when a note taped to the wall across from the basement door catches my attention, unnoticed earlier.
Harlow, I’m at the shop, if you’d like to come talk when you’re awake. –Morgan
Taking the note, I slip it into my back pocket and head for the door, bracing for the inevitable conversation needed to be had. Perhaps I’ll pass coven members between here and town’s main core, but I wonder how they’ll react seeing me. If they view me as an enemy now because of the Darkness inside me. The notion makes my chest burn.
I’m heading to Morgan’s shop. Not sure if I’ll be back before evening.
I’ll find you if you’re not. Don’t take her shit, Hellion. Say the word and we’ll leave this place.
I don’t reply because I’d rather not put the possibility of a negative conversation out into the universe. Good vibes and all that follow me down the road, past the Sinclair house, and into the main core.
Testing the distance, I send down the bond.
I hear you.He sounds amused.
Does it weaken if I don’t drink regularly from you?
Not sure.
Why didn’t I hear you right away, when you first drank?
Because I didn’t send anything to you. Couldn’t have you freaking out before I arrived.
That makes sense.
The main core of Banff is, as usual from my short time here, filled with tourists walking in no decipherable patterns. Kids scream for ice cream, BeaverTails, and other sugary treats after supper in one of the numerous restaurants; gift shops have their typical lengthy lines, and people mingle everywhere, photographing the giant mountain that serves as a backdrop to the strip.
The bustle is crazy but welcoming too. Ever since my fake parents’ death, I holed up in my house and exclusively had food delivered when I decided not to starve myself to death. Then it was Alec’s castle, where he and I were the only signs of life. This feels normal. Like the old version of me, even if that version has long been killed.
That version was also a lie.
Morgan’s shop comes into view, and the sign is flippedClosedbut after a quick test of the knob, it turns. Strange, and even stranger is the shop being closed.
“Morgan?” I call out, wandering toward the path between the glass countertops that presumably leads to the back room. “Carina?” I try when her mother doesn’t respond.
All is silent, so I head behind into the backroom, scanning the desk, numerous file cabinets, and boxes of inventory.
“Morgan?”
Crack.
Awareness is a cold dose of reality that instantly unsettles me. I need to get out of here…
A body materializes when I step back toward the backroom’s entrance, a man as tall as he is wide. I don’t catch his face before a heavy hand covers my mouth, his other coming up in a series of motions. A black cloud encompasses me before my vision turns fuzzy, the realization of what he’s doing being my final moment of consciousness.
Black magick.
“I’m sorry, Harlow.”
That voice…It’s?—
