"You don't know anything about me," I shouted. "How am I supposed to fight for something that's gone?" My shoulders slumped as I gasped for air.
Dom moved closer and wrapped his arms around me.
I was too broken to resist and allowed myself to cry into his massive shoulder.
"I'm going to help you, Brynn," he whispered into my ear. "I'll help you find him again."
As the shudders in my body began to slow, I rubbed my tears on his flannel shirt. With a sniffle, I looked up at him, preparing to drop the final blow.
"He can only be found in the clearing where the farm used to be," I whispered.
His curious brows lifted. "What do you mean? He's there now?"
I swallowed hard, wishing none of it to be true—wanting more than anything for Shane to come back to me.
"His gravestone is there, Dom," I spat. "He's been dead for hundreds of years."
He released me and pushed away as if I were toxic. Staring into my face, he blasted, "What are you talking about?"
My air fell out of me as I struggled to finish speaking. "Laney. She told me she saw his gravestone in the woods." I dropped my eyes to the ground again.
Dom's jaw clenched tighter than ever, and he reached for my shoulders. "She's a liar, Brynn. You must know that by now."
I shook my head, wishing for once that she was lying. But the truth of her words filled her eyes, leaving no doubt in my mind.
"Not this time, Dom," I murmured.
Dom paced, keeping his eyes fixed on the area of the woods where the trail opened up. His Jeep, which he'd parked there earlier, marked the entry point and also marked our whereabouts in case we went missing.
I followed his gaze and stared into the foreboding darkness.
He stood taller and said, "If his tombstone is lying somewhere in those woods..." He paused, focusing into the trees. "Then we're going in there to find it."
Chapter 3
Leaving Dom's Jeep in plain sight by the trailhead was our unspoken safety net. If anything went wrong in the woods, at least they'd know where to find us. The thought comforted me as I pushed against my twisting gut, ignoring its clear warning.
I checked my phone, and 3:30 flashed back at me. At least there would be plenty of time until sunset. The last thing I needed was to get stuck in those damned woods again in the dark.
We moved into the trail, and instead of feeling the ominous presence of evil that had lurked there every other time, I felt a calming sense of tranquility.
Something was off.
"Do you feel that?" I asked Dom.
His head perked up and he glanced all around him. "No. What?"
"Nothing," I murmured.
"No, tell me," he pressed.
"That's it. Nothing," I repeated. "I don't feel anything."
His brows pulled together as he walked farther into the woods.
"You're right." He hesitated and listened. "It feels... normal."
Maybe it was because I was with Dom, the superhuman. Or perhaps it was something bad, like a permanent shift. The idea froze me to my tracks.
"What if it's over," I said. "What if we're too late?"
He took a huge inhale and blasted it out through his nostrils. "Don't even say that. Things are just... resting. Percolating. You know?"
I nodded.
I could live with that.
There were still so many moving parts. We had the missing pages of the spellbook—the secrets of the Incantation of Souls woven into the parchments. That was something. And our coven was stronger than ever, with the addition of the Higher Order Witch Trifecta, and Blake's ability to reach across time with his telepathy. And now, with Courtney back, and Dom with his incredible transformation...
We still had a chance.
I had to believe that.
But Poorva's reluctance nagged at my soul. It was like she was the voice of reason in all of it, and that pissed me off—particularly because she saw right through me. Her aura-reading ability seemed to expose my every deviant thought, causing me to shut down my defector plans every time.
The thought of her reminded me of my dark ideas, though. If the UMAs weren't enough—if we couldn't get it done--then I only had myself to rely on. I still had that. But I'd have to grow my powers to a higher level, higher than what would be approved of.
I lifted my gaze and walked straight into Dom with a smash.
It was like walking into a wall, and I bounced back in surprise.
Shaking off the shock, I looked up into his puzzled face.
"What?" The guilt in my tone rang loud.
He continued to hold his power stance, staring straight into the depths of my eyes.
I dropped my gaze instantly, feeling exposed.
"What are you thinking?" he said. "I can see the wheels turning, and for once, I don't think I like it."
I shook my head, allowing my hair to swing around me as a distraction—anything to get his curious gaze out of my soul.
"Nothing," I murmured. "I'm just feeling lost. Like there's not much hope."
He turned on his heels and headed farther down the trail. I quickened my pace to keep up with him. I didn't dare say another word, considering the scowl I'd put on his face.
Before long, we were over the metal gate, and at the opening of the clearing.
His silence spoke volumes, and I decided to not speak of giving up hope again. I was on my own with my worst-case planning. Someone had to do it. If all else failed, we needed a back-up plan, and I refused to be caught without one.
Reaching out to Laney didn't seem like such a bad idea. She'd already shown her vulnerability to me, so maybe the timing was perfect.
Dom's voice shattered my rogue thoughts again.
"This way, right?" he pointed across the meadow.
I nodded and cut across the open space with sharp focus.
My heart quickened as we moved into the familiar part of the woods where we'd originally found the remains of the root cellar and the hidden spellbook. Setting foot back on the Dawson farmland sent chills through me, along with intense visions of clear images from my time there.
Millie and Gertie's faces flashed through my mind. The steaming cauldron hanging over the fire, filled with warm stew. The scratching mattress and itchy blankets we'd slept on.
Then images of the Magistrate. The angry mob. The torches.
The final snapshots that buckled me to my knees sent relentless pictures of a burning pyre, a scorched body, and a broken barrel spilling its mangled contents.
I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the assault of the traumatic memories as a gnarled scream flew out of my mouth.
Dom raced over and crouched with me. Steadying my shaking body with his strong arms, he pulled me into him.
"I know," he said. "I can't erase them either." He shook his head as if trying to clear it. "I'd tell you to try not to think about it, but honestly, I never want to forget. It's those memories that will keep us fighting."
My eyes widened, and I stared up at him.
His words held such conviction over what we needed to do, I felt a shift within me.
He was right. Instead of trying to forget the horrifying events, I needed to keep them with me. It would be the only way to fight against what happened. Remembering.
And remembering those horrific moments would be my connection to remembering Shane.
I nodded and pushed myself up to standing. Dom lifted with me and gave an approving smile.
As I took a deep inhale, clearing my mind of its despair, I grew taller.
I could do this.
My eyes tracked the woods, and before I could focus on the familiar ancient carvings in the bark of the trees, three unique pines filled my vision, leading the way.
My feet quickened pace to a near run as I barreled toward the familiar pines. Their unnatural green hue made them stand out from the darker pines around them, confirming we were in the right place.
Dom kept pace next to me, and we burst
out of the trees into the open area that was once the Dawson farm.
I surveyed the open space, remembering what it was like centuries ago, alive and bustling. Now, it was only a distant memory.
Without wasting a moment, I pulled Dom over to the buried foundation of the barn.
"The root cellar is there," I pointed. "We found the spellbook, and all the other trinkets the sisters had in their workshop, preserved perfectly."
Dom paced around the foundation, staring at the subtle remains of structural stones covered by thick overgrowth. His hands pulled through his hair as his face twisted in pain.
"Are you okay?" I choked.
He stopped and stared back at me. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I don't know. I have to admit, I'm a little fucked up right now."
I lifted my fist to my mouth, hoping he'd keep it together. I had to remember his unique gift of shifting, and the last thing we needed was for him to explode into wolf-form.
"Are you going to... you know..." I muttered.
His brows pulled together in annoyance. "Give me a break. I'm not some out-of-control juvenile bursting out of his pants."
I smacked my hand over my eyes. "I know. I'm sorry," I blabbered. "I just don't know anything about your... your..."
"My problem?" He held his eyes on me without blinking.
"No," I squirmed. "Your..."
Shit. I couldn't find words to describe his totally-freaky-out-of-control-oh-my-god-sexy-as-hell-wait-what-werewolf.
Pushing my mind-scramble aside, I reached for the best word I could find.
"Situation," I gasped. "Your situation,"
He huffed with a smirk. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that." He blew out his cheeks with an exhale. "Well, don't worry. I think I have a little more control over it than you think. I've had some time to get used to it."
I swallowed hard with a nod and continued to watch his response to the ruins around us.
His fidgeting stance exposed his agitation, and before I could ask what he was thinking, he let out a rush of pent up emotion.
"I couldn't stop it," he choked. "There were too many of them. Hell-bent on destroying everything." His fists clenched, causing his knuckles to whiten. "So many guns. They shot at me, wounding me, trying to kill me. Before I could recover from their bloody attack, they'd taken the sisters." His voice cracked. "Right before my eyes, I watched from the edge of the woods."
My breath stopped in my chest. He'd witnessed it all, unable to stop it.
'There was nothing you could have done," I whispered.
No one could have stopped it. The mob was too big, too strong, and too frenzied to the point of irrational hysteria.
He shook his head in slow, steady motion. "No. If I had shifted back to human form, spoke rationally to them, maybe I could have stopped it."
The broken sound in his voice pierced my heart. His guilt for not having been able to stop the massacre was eating him alive. I thought about his perspective and realized he had no escape from the consuming guilt.
"No, Dom. They would have killed you too," I protested.
He dropped his gaze to the ground. "That would have been better than this." He squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to erase the memories. "Shane got lucky."
And with those last words, my vision went red with rage.
"How can you even say that?" I blasted. "Like you're giving up."
As if by its own volition, my body launched at him, and I shoved him as hard as I could.
"Shane would have kept fighting, no matter what!" I cried out.
My eyes widened in surprise from my own words.
Shane would never have given up. He would have done whatever it took to change the outcome, and so I vowed to do the same.
Dom stared at me, likely wondering if I was going to shove him again--not that he even flinched by my initial attempt, but it made its point, either way.
"It's all happening for a reason," I said. "You were there for a specific reason. A witness. And now, you need to figure out your next moves. Your purpose."
"Yeah, and what about you?" he pressed. "You're the one dragging your ass around, wishing it was you instead of him."
It was like a sucker punch to the gut, leaving me breathless.
"What the hell do you know?" I blasted. "You weren't around these past weeks to even see what was going on." A flood of sickness washed through me, reminding me of the grief I'd endured.
He shook his head like I was an imbecile. "Oh, I watched. I was present. You just didn't know it. You were too caught up in your own world to even notice."
A growl welled up in my throat, and I forced it down. Instead, I stormed away from him, pounding my fists into my thighs.
What an asshole!
I always knew he was an arrogant asshole, and now it all came back to me.
How the hell was I supposed to work with him now? I glanced back and caught him watching me with worry lines in his brow.
Shit.
I pulled my gaze away from him, still too annoyed to care about whatever he was thinking. As my furious pace carried me beyond the three pines, I stumbled in the overgrowth in the area behind them, determined to put more space between him and me.
Tripping on another solid mound beneath the moss, I stumbled to my knees, cracking one off solid stone. With a wince, I rubbed my kneecap, wondering if it was bleeding underneath my jeans.
"Are you okay?" Dom's voice resonated in the back of my mind as my focus moved in and out of clarity.
My eyes remained fixed on one thing only, blurring out all other details.
The stone that had tripped me—it filled my vision with its cruel details.
An ancient carved stone that, once I pulled the moss away, revealed its ominous engraved letters to me.
"Dom!" I screamed.
Within a second, he was next to me and dropped to his knees.
We pulled at the moss and long grasses, exposing the stone completely. I brushed at it with a clump of weeds, removing the extra dirt and debris.
My breath fell out of me with a huff as I stared at the old gravestone. Leaning to one side, it had shifted over time, appearing like it was keeling over from exhaustion. Half-buried, as if swallowed up by the earth, the stone hid much of its secrets. I rubbed it, hoping to be able to read whatever was still exposed. Its carvings were weathered to near oblivion, but tracing them with my finger, I could still make out the words.
I spoke aloud, "M. O. T. H... It says Mother!"
Dom sat up tall on his knees and stared at the stone with wide eyes. Then he scanned the area around it and bounced over to the next mound.
Pulling at the moss, he exposed the next stone and brushed at its surface.
"Father," he called out.
Holding my breath, I stood and stared at the stones without blinking.
Dom moved up next to me, and we scanned the area, searching for signs of any more grave-markers.
"Oh my God," his voice rumbled low.
The same words coursed through my brain as I looked beyond the overgrowth, the trees, and the shadows, revealing an entire family plot, hidden from centuries of neglect.
"We found it," I whispered.
Dom nodded slowly while surveying the numerous mounds and jagged corners of stones protruding up from the forest floor.
Frozen to my spot, I willed my muscles to move, but they refused. My entire body revolted against finding what I prayed didn't exist. If Shane's gravestone was here, it would resound permanency that I wasn't ready to accept. Suddenly, I questioned why I was even here. I didn't want to find it.
I turned to Dom with worry etched through my voice. "I think we should go."
He shook his head. "No, Brynn. We need to know. You can't hide from it. If you leave now, you'll come back again. Trust me. We need to do this now."
His rational thinking clenched my jaw in annoyance.
Of course I'd come back. The images of this lost cemetery would haunt me to no avail. I just needed t
o press onward.
I took a huge inhale. "Okay. You're right. But if I find it, I can't say what I'll do. I just don't know."
Dom pressed his lips together and nodded. "I know. I'll be here for you." He searched the ground for the next stone. "But Brynn, just remember, if we find it, it won't mean there's no hope. We'll still figure this out."
My left shoulder threatened to shrug, but I held it down. I had to at least pretend there was hope at this point.
"Okay, let's do this." I moved through the thicket and found another mound.
Then my eyes trailed along an unnatural line in the moss at the edge of the stones. As my vision moved along the line, it turned and trailed around us in a square formation. Loose stones fell from parts of it, revealing a small rock border, surrounding the plot.
Within the designated area, I found at least six stones jutting up from the ground. Each one held a unique shape, some made of slate, some a more porous stone, all tipped and eroded from the pressure of time.
I remained hovering over the mound closest to Mother and Father. The top of the stone was exposed, split in several areas along the natural lines of the slate. The majority of the grave marker was hidden under moss and debris.
"There's another one like it over here," Dom called out.
His voice made me jump, and I looked at where he stood.
He pointed to another stone, about three feet away from the one I was looking at. They seemed to match in size and shape.
I swallowed hard and dropped to my knees.
"Clean it off," I told him as I pulled the moss away from the one by me.
In silence, we exposed the gravestones down to the ground. With dirt embedded in my nails and crusted over my fingers, I brushed at the engravings, taking care to reveal every detail.
At the top of the stone, I gazed at the vague image of a skull and crossbones. At first, my heart shuddered in my chest, but then I remembered this depiction to be common on old gravestones. It was the symbol of death.
"A skull and crossbones," I called over to Dom.
"Same," he stated as he brushed final bits of dirt from the stone he worked on.
My finger traced along the letters that marked the slate.
I murmured the words as they formed in my mind. "Here Lyeth ye Body of..." My words caught in my throat as my fingers moved farther down the stone. "Millicent."
Urban Mystic Academy: Fourth Project (A Supernatural Academy Series Book 4) Page 3
