Page 60 of Fated Moons
She gritted her teeth as her hand burned under Jackson’s touch.
He let out a low growl, showing his teeth as his body shook violently.
“Shoot me before she finishes the spell,” her aunt yelled.
“I’m trying. The trigger won’t move,” Arianna said.
Amanda waved her hands. “The wizard shall regain strength in a foreign form to protect all he holds dear until the spell is torn. The magic rises in the east, setting where she’ll see it least.”
Her aunt tried to grab the gun, but it floated to the ceiling and into the fairy dust, out of reach.
“In his human body, the wizard's power shall yield, and in his werewolf spirit, the blood of the royals, and keeper of all things wicked and good, shall he shield.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a vial, smashing it against her leg. She winched in pain as the glass cut her flesh. The liquid bubbled in the air, forming a thick cloud of heavy smoke.
“No!” her aunt screamed, dropping to the ground.
“I need you to go touch her,” Amanda said. “Gently, on the shoulder.”
“Why?” Jackson asked.
“Do you trust me now?”
“What are we, a Verizon commercial? Yeah, I fucking trust you.” He stomped over, raising his hand just over her aunt’s shoulder. “I have no idea what is about to happen, and I don’t care. But I will tell you that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop me from mating with Amanda. My seed fills her belly, and you will have to bow to my pups.”
Amanda covered her mouth with one hand, her stomach with the other. “Just touch her shoulder, please.”
Jackson rested his hand on her aunt’s body. Sparks flew from his fingertips.
Her aunt convulsed, her powers releasing from her pores in various colors, forming a giant ball.
“Now hold your hands as if you’re holding a basketball.” Amanda held back a tear. She’d loved her aunt. Still did. She hated doing this to her, but it was the only way to stop the madness she’d brought on the royal family.
Jackson raised his hands, and swirls of colors floated across the air, forming a ball between his arms. Once all the colors had gathered, Arianna held out a jar.
“Repeat after me,” Amanda said.
Jackson looked at her with a crinkled brow and wide eyes, his body trembling at the cosmic supremacy he held.
“The powers of a princess witch are beautiful and rare. Place hers in this bottle and keep her bare. Cast her cauldron to the darkness and protect the family from madness.” Amanda nodded, and Jackson repeated the words. The ball zipped from his hands to the jar where her sister made sure she secured the lid.
“What now?” Jackson asked. His face had lost all color as he leaned against the windowsill.
She could tell he grew weak. A wizard’s power was not meant to be harnessed by a werewolf.
Or anyone else for that matter.
“We wait here for my father so he can gather his powers,” she said, sitting next to him. “Look at me.” She knew the risks of casting that spell, but Jackson didn’t, and she feared he may never forgive her.
If her father could get there fast enough to save him.
She collected the dust and commanded it to cover Jackson, in hopes it could help the healing process.
13
Jackson blinked his eyes open and rubbed his temples. A dull ache filled his brain, and a wave of nausea swirled in his gut. He glanced around, grateful he was in his own room, but he sucked in a sharp breath when he saw Amanda’s parents and his mother hovering over him.
“His color is back,” Amanda’s mother said.
“He looks like he has a fever,” his mother said, reaching out, putting the back of her hand on his cheek.
