Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. Hence my dilemma.
I go back downstairs and grab a pair of black running shoes. I get my phone, add it to my purse, and sling the bag across my body.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Mabel, who looks like she’s about to send me off to war. “Before sunrise.”
“Promise?” she asks.
“To the best of my ability, yes.” I feel like we all know better than to make promises we intend to keep but might not be able to. “I’ll talk to Xavier,” I say, looking from Mabel to my brothers. “I’ll let him know what’s going on. Don’t do it for me.”
“You mean don’t give him a chance to stop you from doing something dumb?” Antonio says.
“Yeah.” I see no point in arguing with him. That’s exactly what I’m doing.
“Are you ready, dear?” Marie asks. She’s already heading toward the door.
My heart skips a beat in my chest, but I take a deep breath and find my resolve. “Yes.”
Chapter
Four
Iget into the front passenger seat of Marie’s car. The excitement fades as the finality of everything hits me. Not because I think she’s going to kidnap me to some Covenstead or whatever it’s called and I’ll never return, but because after this, there’s no going back. There’s no more wondering what it’s like to be around other witches. What I’ve dreamed up, and the stories I’ve written in my head won’t be just stories anymore.
It could be worse. It could be better.
Maybe this is one of those ‘don’t meet your favorite celebrity’ kind of things. I could be extremely disappointed by what it’s actually like.
But isn’t reality better than desperately clinging to the hope of a dream?
“There’s a notebook,” I start as I pull my seatbelt into place. “It was in a bag that either Vivian or Marco Russo brought with them. It was full of names.” Marie starts the car and slowly drives down the driveway, patiently waiting for me to continue.
“Names of other witches. My name was in there,” I say, remembering the slap in the face feeling and the way my blood ran cold when I saw it. “Most of the names were crossed off. I think that means they were dead. But there were some names that weren’t crossed off.”
“Do you think the Order has other witches in their clutches?”
“I do,” I say. “Not only do I think it, but I feel it.”
“Is the notebook still where you last saw it?”
“As of, like, maybe an hour or so ago, yes.” I close my eyes, not quite understanding how much time has passed since everything went to hell. Or, more correctly, since hell came here.
“Well, let’s get it, then,” Marie says. “Tell me where to go.”
Nerves prickle inside me at an alarming rate, and I hate having to sit with this discomfort, but I have no other choice. It’s funny, really. If anybody were to look at me, they’d see me sitting here quietly, not realizing the absolute battle going on inside me right now. And all of this doesn’t erase the heartbreak I still feel over Xavier’s betrayal.
If that’s even what it is.
He did something I didn’t want him to do, knowing it would make me mad. He did it to save me, but it was at pretty much the entire world’s expense.
Is that love? Selfishness? Both? Can love exist without selfishness?
If he said he loved me, but did nothing to keep me out of harm’s way, I wouldn’t feel like he loved me. But where does someone draw the line when it comes to keeping another person safe?
If the harm is my own doing, is it more loving to step back and watch, even though it hurts, or to stop me because the idea of living without me is more painful to bear?
Being controlled isn’t love.
There are plenty of people who are controlling because they are, simply put, abusive assholes. But then there are people who are controlling because they genuinely believe they know best and that what they think is best must also be best for you.
We sit in relative silence for the rest of the drive to the warehouse, and it feels weirdly familiar pulling into the parking lot. Marie drives slowly as we make our way through, and I scan back and forth for more demonically controlled bodies. She turns the car off, and we both get out, but she pauses before moving forward, holding out her hands as if she can feel the air.
“What exactly happened here?” she asks, tipping her head. Then she looks at me.
“Someone was sacrificed.”
“More or less.” I reach into my purse and pull out the small silver knife Leo gave me. The air still feels charged with dark demonic energy, but everything is quiet. Marie summons a ball of energy and uses it like a flashlight. I stand there, mesmerized as I look at the swirling fibers of energy, woven together like a yarn ball of strings of blue and white glowing energy. I’ve summoned energy balls before, but nothing like this.