Page 13 of Dark Night Golden Dawn
But now she felt too much, other emotions clouding whatever pleasure she might have gleaned from mixing the memory and the fantasy of him. The feel of him driving into her, moaning words of devotion in her ears, grew ever more distant as she failed to bring herself to climax. Harlow’s head fell back as a moan escaped her lips, frustration mixing with the elusive power of the memory. The fantasy slipped away far too quickly, which inevitably brought about thoughts of everything that followed from what happened in real life. The months of sorrow. The worry that clouded both her parents’ eyes every time they looked at her.
Harlow sat up gasping, yanking her hand from her body. She marched herself into the bathroom and turned the shower on cold. There would be no thinking of Finn McKay and that one perfect night, the one that ruined everything. And therecertainlywould be no fantasizing about him now.
If she was going to do this, honor her family’s wishes and complete the season, she was not allowed to think of him that way,ever. She shed her clothes and stepped into the water, letting the freezing streams cool her hot skin and drag her back, firmly, into the present, where she promised herself she would stay.
ChapterSeven
Though the thick fabric of the pallyra was heavy, it wasn’t warm enough for a cold spring night in the sacred Grove. She’d only been there for the high holy days, the turn of the wheel, never for any of the other rituals that all four of the Immortal Orders conducted there. Her participation in Solon Mai rituals of years past told her that she’d need to layer well underneath her ceremonial outwear, so she’d slipped on a pair of leggings and a sweater and planned to wear comfortable boots when she heard her phone buzz. It was Enzo.
Wear something hot under your frippery tonight, we’re invited to the Velarius afterparty.
She sighed, thinking of opting out, but another text came through just as she was about to suggest her favorite pub, the Three Besoms, instead. Thea this time.
I know Enzo is texting you about the Velarius party. You’re going. Dress appropriately. Jeans are fine, but for Aphora’s sake, wear a nice sweater or one of those vintage jackets you love. No UNT sweatshirts.
There was a pause while the little dots cascaded, indicating that Thea was sending another text.
I mean it. Wear something beautiful, Harlow. Show them who you are.
Thea texted like she was writing a formal letter, and though it made Harlow’s heart race to think about mingling with all the people from her past who’d made her miserable in school, she texted both her sister and Enzo back to assure them she’d dress appropriately.
Show them who you are.
Who was she, anyway? There was nothing wrong with dressing down, but her frumpy clothes weren’t whoshewas. She’d been purposely hiding herself. Her throat clamped closed. Letting herself be seen felt dangerous, but maybe she could live dangerously. Maybe to get through this, she would have to. Harlow yanked off her cozy boots and leggings and pulled on a pair of wide legged jeans.
Wear something hot.
Next, she discarded the sweater in favor of an expensive, cream-colored henley with a black bra underneath. To keep warm, she slipped on a black shearling-lined vest, and then unbuttoned her shirt one button more than she usually would. She slipped the gold medal she always wore, depicting Akatei’s three faces, back on and felt instantly better, protected by the Order of Mysteries’ patron goddess.
Her phone told her it was 10:48. The invitation would arrive at the eleventh hour, so she didn’t have much time for hair and makeup. She wished she hadn’t frittered the day away reading a new romance novel, but it was what it was. She had just enough time for a simple glamour. It was all she could manage with her limited magical abilities anyway.
Harlow went to the bathroom and while she looked in the mirror, pulled strands of magic from the air and wove them around her until her lashes were darkened and longer, ‘til the dark circles under her eyes disappeared and her long honey colored hair curled away from her face. She gave her already high cheekbones a boost and left her nose alone, adding a faint blush to her pale cheeks.
A sound of paper scraping the wide planks of the wooden floor outside the bathroom caught her attention. The envelope she was waiting for slid under the front door and flew towards her, of its own accord.
“Ridiculous,” she muttered, plucking it from the air as she slid on her pallyra, fastening the thick fabric with nearly invisible metal hooks.
She opened the envelope to read what she assumed would be a charming inscription, but instead found a long list of small-print legalese about consenting to participate in the season. Her eyes floated over the bloated verbiage until she found instructions at the bottom of the page that directed her to speak the Illuminated Order’s motto for Okairos aloud and press her thumb to the page to indicate consent.
Ab ordine libertas.From order comes freedom. She begged to differ, especially when it came to the Illuminated’s ideas of “order,” but she said the phrase aloud and pressed her left thumb to the page. Sharp pain lanced through her skin and she felt momentarily emptied out of all energy as she was transported from her apartment to a clearing in the forest.
Above her, Okairos’ twin moons waxed to near fullness, lighting the enormous redwood trees that surrounded her with uncanny light. The woods were silent, though she knew they must be full of others like herself. She staggered a bit, feeling hollow; she’d never felt that way after portaling. Harlow glanced at her thumb—there was no trace of a wound, but a distinct feeling of unease lingered inside her. Perhaps it was just anxiety about the evening ahead.
A lantern sat at her feet. Harlow saw nothing to indicate what she was supposed to do next, so she picked it up, pressing her fingers to Akatei’s medallion for comfort. The light from the lantern dissipated a bit, tiny globules of light falling to the forest floor and floating like fireflies along the path ahead of her, into the dark forest.
Harlow took a step forward and the effect intensified. The short train of her pallyra dragged the ground behind her, her billowing sleeve flowing prettily as she held the lantern aloft, and she felt like a true sorcière for the first time in a long while. She was meant to follow the trail of lights, she supposed. The woods were eerily quiet as she walked, and though she peered deep into the darkness, she saw no other lights, no other indication that the forest was full of this season’s participants.
The faint sense of unease occurred to her again. Something just beyond her understanding pressed at her senses. She tried to use her second sight, but found she could not. In a moment of panic, Harlow struggled to feel the threads of magic around her, the most basic skill a sorcière had, but felt nothing at all. Her heart began to pound louder with every step she took.
Somewhere in the distance, a shrill scream pierced the air. Cold fear laced her blood. That was no animal, it was aperson. She halted, trying to pinpoint the location of the scream, but it was as though it came from everywhere. Just as suddenly as it began, it stopped, and the air was thick with magic. She felt the threads around her sing to life again, full to bursting with aethereal power so potent it threatened to overwhelm her. Then there was a great contraction in the air and she was nearly knocked to her knees, the breath sucked roughly from her lungs.
When she could breathe freely again, the threads of magic around her felt the same as they always did. Sounds of the forest at night time, rustling pine needles in the breeze, an owl in the distance all echoed in her ears. And voices. When Harlow looked around, she saw trails of light through the forest, indicating there were dozens of people in the forest, making their way to the Grove, just like her.
This was strange magic, like none she’d ever felt or seen, and she’d seen a lot of fantastic magic in her twenty-five years. She kept following the trail of bobbing lights until she spotted Enzo and Thea, walking together a bit away from her. Ahead she could see the clearing where the ritual would take place. She gathered the train of her pallyra up in her arms and waded through the dense brush until she reached them.
They both reached out to kiss her cheeks and Thea strung an arm through hers as they huddled together.
“Hi,” Harlow murmured quietly. “That was odd, wasn’t it?”
