Page 126 of Dark Flame
Higher power. Coming war. Soldiers.
“You’re crazy.”
She shrugs. “I’m not. Something’s coming, and we have to be ready. The man we work for needs you at your best.”
I scan them, noting what “best” they mean. “You’ve been teaching me black hexes for years and wiping my memory of them. Wiping my memory ofeverything.”
“Yes,” Arthur continues, “you were much trickier than we expected. Our original job was to kidnap a Sinclair descendant, which is why we tricked our way into your coven. Your mother would have never turned Dark, but you? At eight, you were untapped, not yet come into power, which meant we could shape you into anything. We took you, as per our orders, but then instead of handing you over, we were asked to raise you, teach you the better ways. The vampirism cure in your veins was created from black magick; don’t know if you ever figured that tidbit out, so you had great potential already. Essentially, you were halfway there.”
I stare down at my hands, as though envisioning the cure. Logically, it makes sense. Magick like this isn’t natural, nothing gifted by the Goddess. But it also means the High Priestess who put the cure in my veins dabbled in it, and it’s a fact no one’s ever mentioned and I never put together.
Arthur chuckles. “Your coven has quite the history with black magick. Why do you think it’s taboo now? When your powers came in, you were stronger than anticipated, though it shouldn’t be entirely surprising. Sinclairs are some of the original, and with the cure, you’re a level above the rest of us.”
A slither coasts around my neck and for once, I’m happy to have the Darkness because I might need it to fight theirs.
“As a result, we had to bind your magic,” he continues. “As you got older, you got stronger. Every time we taught you a spell, your fire responded to the Darkness, even before you had the capacity to use that kind of magick. We knew it was only a matter of time before locking it wouldn’t be possible—which ended up being for the best. The cure may be infused with Darkness, but it’s not nearly enough. You at full strength? Your element mixed with Darkness…you’d be the ideal weapon—once activated.”
If my stomach could drop lower, it would.
Darkness snakes down my spine, reminding me it’s still here, its low hissing voice urging me to destroy them.
I jerk.It’s still here.The cuffs are supposed to render my magick useless, but they’re not. At least not all of it.
I drop onto my hands, pretending exhaustion has taken me out, but I dig my nails into the dirt, aiming to fill myself with every kind of power I can pull upon.
“Activated?” I repeat, wanting the rest of the story and to keep them talking so they don’t pay attention to my hands.
“Murder creates Darkness. You needed to kill, but we knew you, Harlow. You were a Sinclair through and through, no matter how much we tried to alter that. You wouldn’t do it willingly.”
Then—no. Now…it’s debatable.
“We planned the attack with help from vampires. Bloodsuckers had no idea they wouldn’t make it out alive, and believed they’d receive sips of your blood—the cure—by the end. When they came, we fought to make it look realistic but knew you’d never leave your parents.” Arthur’s smirk turns mocking, my hate only growing that much more. “And you didn’t, not once disappointing us that night. What we didn’t expect was your magick to bethatstrong. We underestimated it after years of hindering your abilities. The explosion took us by surprise, but we got out of there in time and popped back to drop the drugged humans we had waiting. They burned in your fire alongside the vampires, and you were never the wiser. Pulled you from the wreckage and went into hiding.”
“Of course,” Violet speaks up, “we never foresaw the possibility of you extending yourself so far that your magick faded. What you gained with the murders was almost immediately expelled, though hung around. Black magick is similar to elemental magick in that it’s almost alive, so it recognized everything you were, are, and could be and lingered, waiting for the time you’d get your abilities back. Which was only a matter of time; no witch could live long without them. We’ve been brainstorming how to help you retrieve them—without making ourselves known—when that vampire showed up and took you away. Our orders changed once again, and we watched and waited.”
“He’ll come for me. The instance the sun sets.”
“We’ll be gone by then,” Violet says. “Your mate will end his search shortly after he begins.”
What does that mean?The words stick to my throat because I’m also not entirely sure I want to know.
If black magick chose me, then I need it to choose me again. Toprotectme. To defend. And I focus all my energy into channeling the very, semi-living power I have no clue how to control, while also trying to keep them talking.
“What mate?” I ask, downplaying the effect of her words.
Arthur laughs. “You always were a shit liar. Our alliance is partners with a vampire, so we’ve been let in on all your new secrets.”
Another vampire knows about Alec and me?
“Why me? That’s the only part I don’t understand. You could have stolenanywitch.”
“The four mortals who were given the gift of the elements became the first four witches in existence. A Sinclair being one of them. You are the remaining heir of that bloodline, so you are one of the four chosen.”
Thank fuck for Morgan’s recent lesson in witch history. But if I’moneof the four, that means three other bloodline heirs are in danger. Or will be. Or have been.
“Who are the other three?”
Silence from them both, though it’s not entirely unexpected.
