Page 87 of The Witch's Heart
I close my eyes again and imagine myself on the edge of a cliff, the waters below me deep and dark—my subconscious. Within the water, silver shafts of light swim like eels—my power.
Taking the plunge, I dive in, allowing myself to become fully immersed in my own being for the first time since I got here.
The water is warm, inexplicably so, and inviting. It fills me, moves through me, and as I push deeper, I begin to understand.
I begin to see.
And I begin to hear.
"Dean!"I push my thoughts out, trying to connect to him.
"Celeste! You need to get out of here. He'll hurt you."Dean's voice sounds tired, broken.
"I can fight him, but I need your help.”
“Celeste, I’m so damn tired. I don’t know if I can—”
“You can do it. Take my hand."
I feel him reaching out to me, and as our energies bind, his power and mine intertwine, forming a more unified knot. With him secured, I reach for Declan. His life force is fainter, so faint I fear he won't last much longer. I latch onto it and tie him to us, though he doesn't regain consciousness. Finally, I find Estelle, her essence faded to almost nothing, but still present enough to latch onto.
Once we are connected, a flash of bright light momentarily blinds me, and then I am back in the iron room again, only this time I’m surrounded by women who lay on metal tables. There are dozens of them, and they all stare at the ceiling, their eyes forever blinded by death.
Each of their chests have been pried open and their hearts are missing.
I scream, though I don't know if I do so vocally or just in my head.
I feel Dean soothing me, his energy holding mine.
But it’s not enough. I know it from deep inside, from a part of myself I’ve never allowed to emerge.
I open my eyes and find Cutter has released Logan and now stands over the caged heart, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he watches the blood flowing into it from the tubes attached to me, Estelle, and the twins.
“Yes,” he coaxes. “More. It’s almost there.”
The heart beats faster now and I know he’s right. Whatever we’re doing, it’s working.
I look at Logan, who stands near where I sit, eyes unseeing as he watches it all unfold. Straining my wrists, I push my arm as far as it will go before the bindings stop me. My fingertips graze his in a slight brush.
But it’s enough.
He blinks.
I suck in a sharp breath, staring up at him.
His expression clears and he frowns down at me. When he opens his mouth, I shake my head, silently pleading with him to remain silent.
“My hand,” I whisper, hoping Cutter is too caught up in his own victory to notice what’s happening.
Logan reaches for my hand, and Schmidt screams, “Get away from her!”
Cutter straightens, eyes narrowing, but he’s too late.
Logan’s fingers wrap tightly around mine.
“Celeste, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice anguished at the idea that he’s failed me.
But I don’t answer. His touch is the last bastion I need to unleash what’s inside me. If this doesn’t work, we will all surely die.
