Page 84 of Dark Flame
“Uh, I’ll get to that.” I pull more hair over my shoulder, ensuring the marks are well covered. “The first vampire who bought the rights to my blood drank from a goblet.” At her paling face, I quickly add, “It was fine. Fine as it could be, anyway. Didn’t hurt. Once the vampire drank, he transitioned into a human. It was really miraculous to see—he was my first. But the change didn’t last long. He started puking up my blood and died. Alec determined that because I didn’t have my magick, the cure wasn’t at its full strength.”
She lets out a grunting noise but leans back in her chair, tapping her fingers along the mug. “Avampirepieced that together?”
I shrug, not really knowing how he came to the conclusion, nor caring. With my powers now functioning, it no longer matters either.
“He was really determined for me to get my magick back. But he wasn’t all that bad.” At her lifted brows, I add, “He was pissed and locked me in a smaller cell than the first, but when my claustrophobia got bad, he took me from there. Gave me a bedroom. A really comfortable one.” My cheeks warm with the memories of everything that occurred in that room.
“A bedroom doesn’t make him a good person.”
“I know.” The heat flashes hotter in embarrassment and defence. “Besides, once I learned why he was doing all that, I was more determined than ever to escape. So one day, when he was locked up away from sunlight, I used the bedroom’s furniture to break the window and escape.”
“You are a Sinclair,” she murmurs dryly, affectionately. “Wouldn’t expect anything else. That’s when he caught you?”
“I got away…kinda. He caught up and bit me.” Hiding the fact I’m his Bride might not be the wisest in case he comes here and has an entire coven battling him. I don’t want to see him dead, no matter what.
I don’t want him to get killed.A fact as striking as everything else I’ve learned in the past twenty-four hours, but one I push aside for later.
“He claims I’m his Bride,” I finally admit, her reply the distinct thud of her nearly empty mug landing on the table.
“You’rematedto a vampire? Oh, this is bad.”
“How’s it possible?” I lean onto the table, hoping this woman, this High Priestess, knows things. “He says vampires typically mate with their own kind.”
Her eyes flick to the ceiling. “Only She’d know.” Her tone is sharp when she checks, “You’re absolutely sure?”
“He’s acting like it’s the truth.” Images of Alec flit through my mind. The way he chased me from my room to the front door. His expression, the betrayal and hurt when I slammed him against the wall. The threats he made.
“I’ll find you. There’s nowhere on Earth you can hide that I won’t be able to get to you.”
“Also…I think I’ve been hearing his voice in my head long before we met. Like even before my parents—Arthur and Violet, I mean—were killed.”
“That’s not possible. Witches don’t hear voices.”
“I can’t deny what happened. I’m telling you all this because I think he might come for me, if he can track me here.”
She laughs once without humour. “Oh, he’ll come. He won’t be able to resist his instincts to be close to you.”
Which makes me a danger to this entire coven; I can’t be certain what Alec would do if I’m kept away. It’s a fight between him and me, and the coven shouldn’t get in the middle. “I can leave so no one gets hurt by accident.”
Ice freezes her gaze. “Thisis your home. We are your coven. I’m welcoming you back to the place you should have always been. Banff is protected by a spell, and we have deals with the shifter pack by the base of the mountains. He won’t get to you, or any of us, for that matter.”
“He’ll try.”
“He’ll fail.”
The thought doesn’t make me relax, because I truly don’t know what to do about Alec—how to feel. What his claims mean long-term. My entire focus so far was getting away, but I never considered after.
“Why would you risk the coven?” I ask, using the conversation as a distraction from my unknown emotions.
“Youarethe coven.” She reaches to rest her hand over mine. “We protect our own here. But please, finish your story, because I have my own to tell.”
Although my worries are an uncomfortable nagging sensation, I force myself to continue. “After returning to my room, I found a shoebox of stuff. An old wedding portrait of my parents when they were younger, and Mom didn’t have red hair, which I found strange. Stranger were the IDs labelled as Violet and Arthur Hartman, and letters she—Violet—wrote. Letters about me. Kidnapping me. Wiping my memory so I don’t remember my life before them. Binding my magick to make me weaker.” As panic constricts my throat, my words come out quicker. “I realized they weren’t my real parents.Nothingwas real. The people I loved—the people I called Mom and Dad—were liars. What…?” Anguish makes my eyes heavy as I focus on her, pleading for the rest. “Morgan, what happened? What happened to my real parents? Why wasn’t I raised here? Why did you assume I was dead? Please…I need to know.”
She squeezes my hand tighter, a gesture I feel is more for her than me. “Ihatewhat I’m about to say, but I hope it provides clarity.” With a sigh, Morgan pushes her mug to the side to slide her palms flat against the table. “You were seven when they joined us. They escaped their old coven because their High Priestess practiced black magick.”
That term has only popped up once in my lessons—within Gram’s grimoires when she wrote warnings about it. Black magick is believed to be the ultimate form of Darkness a witch or warlock could fall into. It’s spurred on by death; to receive the abilities, a sacrifice must be made. The more murders, the more powerful the practitioner grows. Those who remain on Hecate’s side are considered Light, but those in the Dark lose their souls and turn away from the Goddess and everything She stands for.
“Inherently, witches don’t know how to properly function with black magick,” she continues. “We’re not Dark creatures, not like vampires, and when our powers get caught up in it? It’s evil, and for that reason, forbidden. When Violet and Arthur came to us, we took them in. They refused to tell us which coven they’d come from, which should have been my first clue, but my mother, who was High Priestess at the time, believed their resistance was only from their fear. She allowed them into our coven, our circles, and our family. All was well for a while…until it wasn’t. Until after a full moon ceremony, when we often gather. Your parents loved them and often were the last to leave—which you were always pleased about. You and Carina got to hang out with Jasper—Carina’s cousin—and the other children.”
