Page 90 of Destined for Shadows
“You’ve got it?” Melena asked, heading toward him. She’d been standing in a group with Lucas, Micah, Yvonne, and Dianne. Emily and Tormod were sitting nearby as well.
He held up his wrapped package. “Yes, but it is very personal to Cori. I do not want anyone aside from the mystics and her closest friends seeing it.”
“Okay.” Melena turned and called for everyone’s attention. “A special thanks to everyone who has helped in the search for Cori. Except for those involved in the spell, everyone else needs to clear out of the room. We’ll let you know as soon as we have a location.”
Dozens of sups filed out, giving Bartol probing looks. Several stared at the disfigured side of his face for longer than necessary, but after he started glaring at them, most of the others averted their gazes. He was tired of everyone trying to figure out how a nephilim got permanent burn scars.
The master of Fairbanks, Derrick, shut the reception room doors after everyone cleared out. Bartol breathed a sigh of relief now that there were fewer people crowding around him. He’d come a long way for Cori’s sake these past weeks, but it wasn’t that much easier for him to be around others. He still had an urge to flash home rather than tolerate more scrutiny.
Melena held out a hand. “Can I see?”
Bartol clutched the frame. Until now, he’d been the only one privileged enough to see the painting. He may have stumbled upon the portrait without Cori’s permission, but he still felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her most personal possessions. He forced himself to relax his grip, knowing time was of the essence.
“Here,” he said, lifting it toward her outstretched hand. “Please take great care with it.”
“Of course.”
Melena took a knee and carefully unwrapped the brown paper from around the painting. Lucas, Micah, Emily, Tormod, and several others came closer as the portrait was revealed. Bartol’s chest tightened as his gaze fell upon it, and he remembered the story Cori told him about how her daughter died. He also recalled the images he’d seen in her mind when they’d mated. He’d seen a happy child who loved to sing and dance. Faith wrapped a spell around anyone who saw her, and she would have grown up to be an amazing woman.
Melena gasped. “That was Cori’s daughter!”
“What happened to her?” Emily asked, confused. “I didn’t even know she had a daughter.”
“Neither did we until recently,” Lucas replied. Then he went on to give her the short version of how Griff killed the little girl while drinking and driving one night.
Micah growled. “No wonder she tried to murder him.”
“We need to make sure he stays dead this time,” Tormod added.
“Enough!” Yvonne cried out, giving them all reproving looks. “Your emotions are going to overlap Cori’s if you keep voicing them this close to the painting.”
Everyone backed away except Melena, who was still holding the portrait.
“Let me see it,” the mystic beckoned. She might be old, but Micah’s healing power had given her some of her strength back. Who knew what she might do to them if they upset her.
Bartol appreciated that she didn’t like wasting time.
Melena handed the portrait over, not letting go until she was certain Yvonne had a solid grip on it. The older woman with long, silver hair that ran down nearly to her waist stared at the image of Cori’s daughter. Then she set it on a chair for further study.
“She poured her heart and soul into this,” Yvonne said, voice softer than before. She grazed her fingertips over the paint. “It’s there in every brushstroke.”
Melena had a sheen of tears in her eyes as she tried to contain herself while still staring at the work of art. She sucked in a breath. “Will it be enough for you to find her?”
“If it isn’t, something is terribly wrong,” the mystic replied. Then she turned and gestured for everyone to come forward and hold hands. “To be safe, I’d have all of those who are closest to Cori participate in the spell—except the sensors.”
Of course, their immunity to magic would cause problems.
“What about me?” Tormod asked.
The mystic lifted a brow. “Can you open yourself to magic and fuel it?”
He nodded. “I’ve done it before.”
“Then you can participate,” Yvonne informed him. She looked at Bartol next. “I will hold the painting with one hand, and I need you to hold it with one of yours to complete the circle.”
“Of course.” He moved to the position she directed. Lucas came to stand beside him, and though it wasn’t easy, Bartol allowed the nephilim to take his hand.
Micah and Derrick were next. After that Diane, Yvonne’s daughter, took the last position next to her mother. The older mystic waited until they were all connected, asked for silence, and then began chanting.
