Page 21 of Unbearable Attraction
"No, it's about fear. You're afraid that if you stop, if you take time to rest and regroup, something terrible will happen while you're not working to prevent it."
The accusation hung between them in the charged air of the sacred grove, surrounded by the spirits who watched their argument with ancient, knowing eyes. Leenah's face cycled through anger, denial, and finally reluctant recognition that he might have a point.
"We're close to a breakthrough," she said quietly, but the fight had gone out of her voice.
"We'll be even closer tomorrow when you're not swaying on your feet," Luka replied gently. "The spirits waited this long. They can wait until you're strong enough to help them properly."
For a moment, he thought she might argue further. But then her shoulders sagged slightly, and she nodded toward the assembled manifestations with obvious regret.
"He's right," she told them. "I need to rest before we can continue. But I promise I'll be back."
The Cherokee medicine woman's expression held understanding and approval. "Wisdom often lies in knowing when to retreat and regroup, young necromancer. We will wait."
As the spirits began to fade back into whatever realm they inhabited, Luka moved to Leenah's side, ready to catch her if her exhaustion finally overcame her stubborn determination. The argument had revealed more about both of them than he'd expected, layers of concern and protectiveness that went far beyond professional collaboration.
And judging by the way she'd looked at him when he'd called her out on her fears, she was beginning to realize it too.
15
LEENAH
The walk back to her cottage had been mostly silent, both of them processing what they'd learned from the spirits at the ceremony grounds. Leenah's exhaustion weighed on her, making each step feel like she was walking through quicksand. But it wasn't until she settled into her living room armchair that the real impact of channeling so much spiritual energy hit her.
The vision came without warning.
One moment she was reaching for her notebook to record everything the spirits had told them, and the next she was falling backward through time, her consciousness pulled into a memory that belonged to someone else entirely.
1689. The same stone circle, but the forest around it looked different—younger, wilder, untouched by centuries of human habitation. Cherokee shamans stood in ceremonial dress beside a small group of exhausted-looking Europeans whose clothes spoke of long journeys and desperate flight from persecution.
At the center of it all was a young Cherokee medicine woman whose face Leenah recognized with a shock of understanding. Aiyana, but not as the ancient spirit who'dbeen trying to communicate with her. This was Aiyana in life, vibrant and powerful, her dark eyes holding wisdom beyond her apparent years.
"You ask much of us," Aiyana was saying to a tall man whose colonial dress marked him as one of the supernatural refugees. "To share sacred land with those who fled across the great waters."
"We ask for sanctuary," the man replied, his accent carrying traces of Scotland. "Nothing more. We've seen what happens to our kind in the old world. Salem was only the beginning."
Aiyana's expression softened with compassion. "The spirits of this place whisper of dark times coming for all who carry magic in their blood. Perhaps it is time for old enemies to become allies."
The ceremony that followed was beautiful and terrible in its power. Blood freely given, mixed with sacred earth and blessed water, while both Cherokee and European supernatural beings spoke binding oaths in languages that predated written words. The very air shimmered with magic as ancient protections were woven into the fabric of reality itself.
But at the heart of it all was Aiyana, serving as the bridge between worlds, channeling forces that made her slight frame glow with otherworldly light. Leenah could feel the medicine woman's strength being poured into the ritual, could sense the terrible cost of binding such powerful magic.
"Every fifty years," Aiyana gasped as the ceremony reached its crescendo, "the barriers must be renewed. The bridge between worlds must be willing. And always... always there must be one who can speak for both the living and the dead."
The vision shattered like breaking glass, dumping Leenah back into her own time with brutal suddenness. She found herself on the floor beside her chair, disoriented and shaking,with no memory of how she'd gotten there. Her head felt like someone had been using it for drum practice, and the taste of copper in her mouth suggested she'd bitten her tongue at some point.
"Leenah!" Luka's voice seemed to come from very far away, though she could feel his hands on her shoulders, steadying her as the room spun around them. "What happened? You just collapsed."
"Vision," she managed, the word coming out a whisper. "Prophetic vision. I saw... I saw the original ceremony."
Luka's arms tightened around her as he helped her sit up, his warmth a solid anchor in the swirling confusion of her disoriented thoughts. "First time that's happened?"
"Yeah." She leaned against him more heavily than pride should have allowed, but her body felt like it belonged to someone else. "It was so real. Like I was actually there, watching it happen."
"What did you see?"
Leenah closed her eyes, trying to organize the flood of images and sensations from the vision into something coherent. "The original pact ceremony. Aiyana was the one who performed it, who served as the bridge between worlds. She was so young, but the power..." She shuddered at the memory. "It nearly destroyed her."
"The medicine woman from the ceremony grounds today?"
