by Freya Black
Sloane laced his fingers between mine, instantly calming my nerves. “Anyone who practices magic—whether or not they were born with a divine power or have a supernatural ability—falls under the Imperium Council’s rule. Witches, Alchemists, Voodoo Queens and Kings, folk-magic practitioners, and conjurers are all subjects of the Council. Even werewolves and vampires, if you can find one.”
“That explains why my mom had so many friends. Madam Delacroix would come to Arcadia every month when she was alive. I always thought it was weird, that she’d come all the way from New Orleans just to see my mom.”
“Madam Delacroix was probably reporting abuse of magic in her area. Since your mom was a Magistrate of the Human Realm, she would have to meet with the Council on behalf of anyone within her jurisdiction.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed. “How do you know all of this? I’m going to be the leader of our Coven, and I feel like I know nothing.”
“From my dad”—he shrugged—“and the Queen. She kind of took me under her wing because of the prophecy.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”
I looked up at him and smiled.
We sat in complete silence, observing the waterfall as it cascaded from one shelf to the next, changing from aquamarine to sapphire. The Sabine River had the same calming effect on me as Sloane’s aura, soothing me to the point that I nodded off for a few minutes.
I perked up when Sloane loosened his grip and reached into his pocket. He dangled a silver necklace in front of my face. I studied the tiny crescent moon charm with an amethyst fused through its center.
“I can’t believe you have this.” My mouth flung open in shock. “My parents searched the entire house. They even tried a Locator spell to find it.”
Sloane brushed his hand against my cheek. “The past ten years have been hell for me. Living in Krona without you felt like an eternity. I thought of you every day. From the second I woke up until I closed my eyes at night, you were on my mind. This necklace was all I had to remember you.” He placed the necklace in my hand. “I want you to have it back. I don’t need it anymore.”
I dropped the silver charm in his palm and folded his fingers over the top of it. “It means more to you than me. You should keep it.”
“No, really, you can have it back. It’s served its purpose.”
“And what was that?” I asked with a curious smile.
Sloane’s face brightened, and for a second, I felt his powers strengthen. They were warmer, like the sun on my face. “It led me back to you.”
After a bit of convincing, Sloane tucked the necklace into his pocket. It’d held a special place in my heart once, but I could tell it was worth more in his hands than in mine. I had Sloane and my memories, and those were more than enough.
“I want to try something, but I’m not sure if it will work.” Sloane sat up straight and held out his palm.
The power of his aura made me shiver. “Okay. What are we doing?”
“You need to channel the energy you feel when we touch. If we maintain a connection, it should make our magic stronger. Focus on the river, and if it helps, you can close your eyes.”
I stared at the highest point of the falls and gripped Sloane’s hand tighter.
“Can you feel it?” Sloane’s voice echoed the excitement burning inside me.
“The feeling hasn’t gone away since you kissed me.”
“Me either,” he said without a second thought, not even trying to hide his feelings.
“How do I know if I’m doing it right?”
“Trust me, you’ll know. Now that you have the image of the river imprinted in your mind, imagine a pot of boiling water.” He sounded so sure of himself, as if he could see inside my head.
When we touched, our auras melded together, and somehow, we were connected. We could sense each other in ways I had never experienced with another person. I closed my eyes and envisioned leaning over a cauldron. Foamy white bubbles poured down its sides.
“Focus on both the river and the boiling pot at the same time, but imagine the river is the water in the pot.”
The transference of his energy washed over me like a tidal wave, and my aura grew stronger by the second. I heard water gurgling in my ears, and it sounded so real.
Sloane shook my arm. “Nona, look.”
When I opened my eyes, white froth spilled over the rocks. I stared, in awe of the magic we’d summoned, and turned to Sloane, slack-jawed. “How is this even possible?”
A devilish grin revealed the dimple in his right cheek. “It’s magic, baby.”
I laughed and crawled to the edge of the river. A cloud of steam rose, its heat radiating against the palm of my hand. “It’s actually hot. I can’t believe it.”
“Of course it is.” Sloane sat next to me, holding his hand over the water. “Be careful. It’s hot enough to peel the skin down to the bone.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
Just the vapor alone was probably hot enough to cause first-degree burns.
“How do we make it stop?” I asked.
“It works sort of like a spell, so you need to do the opposite to reverse it. Focus on the river, and repeat, Cold as ice, wet as snow, in your head. It’s a telepathic way of visualizing the action.”
With my eyes closed, I repeated, Cold as ice, wet as snow, until the steam evaporated. Foam flowed downstream, returning the Sabine River to its previous allure.
I threw my arms around Sloane’s neck, and when he grabbed ahold of me, he didn’t let go. We stayed that way for a while, kissing until the sun crept below the horizon.
When I walked into the kitchen, Kate was watching the flat screen in the corner. She had her hair pulled into a ponytail over her shoulder. The sleeves of her chunky red sweater were gathered at her elbows as she tipped a teacup to her lips.
I cleared my throat to announce our presence, but Kate still looked startled.
“Hey, sweetie. I didn’t hear you come in. How was your date?” Her eyes widened as Sloane stepped out from the hallway. “Sloane.” She set her cup on the saucer and smiled.
“What are you doing home so early?” She glanced down at her watch. “I thought you’d be out for two more hours.”
I took a seat at the bar next to Sloane, my elbows pressed into the granite as I leaned into them. “I wanted to talk to you. I had a vision of Krona at the falls. The Rune Master gave me a gold object he called the Talisman of Grimnir.”
“Oh,” she said, perplexed. “You saw Erilaz. I don’t see how though.”
“I know,” I said, a hint of uncertainty in my voice. “Do you know what the Talisman does?”
Kate sat up straight and cleared her throat. “Talismans are very powerful. They’re charged with the magic of the spell caster. Grimnir is the leader of the Druden warriors. I assume it has some kind of power over Druden. The creator of a talisman, in most cases, charges it with the intention of using it to control something or someone. It’s rare they’re used for good.”
She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Quinn. They spoke for a few minutes, and by the time she finished her tea, Quinn was sitting next to Kate.
Quinn stretched his hand across the bar to me. “Show me your vision.”
I could tell this was serious by the sternness in his voice. It was strange, looking into his eyes—cold, hard steel that mirrored Sloane’s—but his stony expression made them seem different.
I clutched Quinn’s hand and felt nothing, no aura or special powers like Sloane. The vision of the Talisman floated through my mind, creating a link between us. As fast as it’d appeared, the image of Erilaz faded.
Quinn’s voice, this time, was calm, but I knew it was for my benefit. He looked at me as if I would crack into a thousand pieces.
At my parents’ funeral, I remembered the same dejected look that had followed the words, Sorry for your loss.
An awkward silence ensued before Q
uinn said, “That was a premonition.”
A tinge of panic shot through me, crumbling my insides like a paper bag. I tried to prepare myself for what he was about to tell me. I squeezed Sloane’s hand, seeking his energy, and his powers coursed through my veins. Just like that, the tension in my bones evaporated in the same fashion as the steam we’d created at the falls.
Sloane stared at his father like a wide-eyed little boy. “What does it mean? Why would we be meeting with Erilaz and Magnus?”
“The Talisman of Grimnir is used to control the Druden.” Quinn paused for a second, as if the words were stuck on the edge of his tongue. “But it’s also used to control Hexenjagers.”
“No.” Kate gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “The portal—”
Quinn wrapped his arms around my frantic aunt to console her.
As Interim Coven Leader, she was unprepared. She lacked the training my mother had received from my grandmother.
The more I learned the truth, it was blatantly clear that I was not ready to lead our coven. I crossed my fingers under the table, holding on to Sloane’s hand. I prayed that if and when the time came to defend our coven, I would be ready.
Tiny hairs on my forearm stood at attention when I made the connection that Kate had made moments before.
“It’s not the magic in the Catacombs they want…it’s me.” My chest tightened, choking me with each breath. “Mom was trying to warn me.”
Kate peeked out from Quinn’s bicep, tears streaming down her face. “I know.”
A sickness rose up from my stomach, the taste of bile in the back of my throat. “If they were in Arcadia, wouldn’t they have come already?”
Quinn shook his head. “Not with Glamour magic masking their appearance. They could be sitting right next to you at school, and you wouldn’t even know it. Hexenjagers like the thrill of the hunt. They’re the worst kind of hunters. This is all a game to them, and they know about the prophecy.”
I gripped the edge of the bar, fighting the nausea that swirled inside me.
Quinn sucked in a deep breath. “They want your divine powers, Fiona. The dark Fey fear you because, according to the prophecy, you will restore the balance of magic among the realms by destroying theirs. But that’s not the only reason they want you. Archaic spells require the blood of a Crescent Witch, which makes you very valuable since you are the last of your kind. In order for the spell to work, you must be alive, and they will make sure you live long enough to conjure enough energy from your blood.”
The words were hard for me to speak, but when I did, even I knew the power they held, “That’s why I keep waking up with nosebleeds, isn’t it?”
“How long has this been going on?” Quinn asked me the question while looking at Kate.
“A few months,” Kate said. “Almost every morning, she wakes up from a nightmare with a nosebleed. Now, she has these night terrors of the Glamour War and her mother dying.”
Quinn sighed. “The Hexenjagers who tethered through the freestanding portals must be close by when this happens to Fiona. There’s no other explanation for the unwanted dreams that clearly are not visions. Somehow, they’ve found a way to suppress Fiona’s telepathic bridge to the future. I’ve heard of their ability to do this, but very few Fey have this type of magical awareness or skill.”
Quinn turned to me, a hint of fear in his eyes that made me cringe. “Fiona, I’m afraid, once they have your blood, they’ll be able to create a link, using a talisman or other magical object. You must be careful. They could be posing as anyone in this town to get closer to you. We will find a way to keep you safe. I promise.”
Sloane squeezed my hand to reassure me, but I sensed his discomfort in his aura. “It’s okay, Nona. I’m here now.”
I stood up, sliding the chair back with my boot, a sudden resolve washing over me. “If it means saving Arcadia, then I guess I’ll have to learn how to protect myself.”
“We can show you,” Sloane and Quinn said in unison.
Chapter 16
I shot out of bed in the middle of the night in a full-blown panic, drenched in sweat. Kate consoled me for an hour and then burned a smudge stick of sage, and I finally drifted off to sleep.
A faint breeze blows off the mountaintops as my dad spins me in his arms. Sandy-blond hair falls in his eyes as he kisses me. The coarseness of his mustache tickles my face as I press my cheek to his. My mother leans in to kiss my other cheek, and then he sets me down.
Sloane, a little boy with black hair and striking blue eyes, clutches my fingers. To his right, Quinn stands next to Sloane’s mother, Emma, a beautiful woman with milky skin and curly brown hair.
Kate stands between us at the edge of the cliff with a proud smile. Sloane places a copper ring braided into Celtic knots on my tiny finger. My mom hands me a matching ring, and I proceed in the same fashion as Sloane and slide the band on his finger.
A witch union binds us together. We are bound for life.
I woke up to the warmth of the sun on my face and, for once, a smile. It was the first night in what felt like an eternity that my dream had been free of monsters.
Desperate to find the ring, I tore through my jewelry box. Tucked inside a small velvet pouch, I found the copper circle twisted into knots. The second I touched it, I sensed its magical properties. I tried slipping it onto my pinkie finger but with no luck. I found a gold necklace and wore the ring around my neck like a charm, but it was more than a good-luck charm. It was a symbol of our bond, and the commitment we had made to one another long before we had understood what marriage meant. But it wasn’t a wedding in the actual sense; it was to symbolize our union, the joining of a Crescent Witch and a Telepath.
At school, I telepathically showed Sloane my dream. I counted the minutes until the end of the day, and when our final class was over, Sloane and I raced out the doors to Dakota Pointe.
We hiked up the trail, the same one I had climbed with my parents hundreds of times. From the edge of the cliff, the cluster of mountains surrounding Arcadia looked incredible.
It had been too long since my last visit. After my parents’ deaths, I’d tried to make it a point to visit Dakota Pointe at least once a month. But with school, work, and fate hanging over my head, it’d slipped my mind.
Off in the distance, I could see the giant boulders at the top of Terra Falls. The faint sound of water crashing over the mossy rocks soothed me. We sat with our backs against an oak tree, its branches hanging low enough to climb. Made of enchanted oak, the tree was indestructible and had magical properties. Pre-Glamour War, it had been a gateway portal to the other realms. Now, it was just a tree with a hole large enough to fit two people.
I squeezed Sloane’s hand, and the sensation of his aura made my crescent moon birthmark tingle. “How can you see my visions?” I asked, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“I was wondering when you would ask,” he said with a smile. “My telepathy is sensory, so the only way I can connect with someone is by touch.”
“How does it work?” I paused for a second, trying to think of the right words. “I mean, how does it work with us?”
“It’s different with you. I can only see your visions when you let me. A few times, I was able to pick up on your thoughts, but it’s not like I tried to listen in.”
My cheeks flushed, and I wondered how many stupid or inappropriate thoughts Sloane had heard. “How does it work with other people?”
“Witches and supernaturals are harder to read than Norms because our minds are more guarded. I tried reading some of the Fey when I lived in Krona, but it was mostly white noise.” Sloane laughed. “I started to think maybe they didn’t have thoughts.”
“Could you hear my thoughts the first time we met?” I asked even though I dreaded the answer.
He nodded, his wavy black hair falling in his eyes. “Yes, but it’s not like I was trying. You were practically screaming them. I couldn’t help it.”
I glanced down at our hands, som
ewhat embarrassed. “Your aura always calms me down.”
“It’s not the aura. You know how some Telepaths can absorb or transfer emotions?”
I bobbed my head.
He continued, “When I was six, my gran died, and my mom was hysterical for weeks. I don’t remember what I did or how it happened, but I absorbed her pain by touching her. It came natural after a while, just like how it is for you. The day we met, I used my power to calm you down.”
I threw my elbow into his side and laughed. “I knew you did something. You had me thinking I was crazy.”
“For a split second, I heard your thoughts, and I didn’t want to take any chances. I knew you needed my help.”
“Oh my God.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. “What did you hear?”
“You don’t want to know, trust me.”
I started at his neck and kissed my way to his lips. “C’mon, tell me. I can be very persuasive.”
Sloane twisted his fingers through my hair, and when our eyes met, he kissed me. The second I felt his energy, my mind went blank. All I could think about was Sloane—the boy who had saved me from falling into a bottomless pit during the Glamour War, the boy I was bound to for life. And I had the ring draped around my neck and the memories to prove it.
When we came up for air, Sloane rested my head against his chest. “You haven’t told me what you want for your birthday.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “Just you.”
Intoxicated by the sweet smell of his skin, I nuzzled against him.
His breath warmed my earlobe as he whispered, “You have me.”
The next morning, I awoke to a glorious scent—a mixture of coffee and bacon—that burned my nostrils, coaxing me from my slumber. I rolled over and grabbed my cell phone from my nightstand. I’d slept past eight o’clock, which was nice.
