Page 51 of Witch Untold
His face scrunches up in thought. “Cora believes in Wren but doesn’t want to risk Wren’s life.”
“Yes,” Leif and I say in unison.
I can’t believe we’re having to placate a mogwai.
“But,” Wren continues, “Cora expects us to be okay with her risking her own life?”
I can’t even argue with him. “Let’s go eat cake.” I head for the door. “Lots of fucking cake, and by the time we’re done, Cora will be back and we can hug the crap out of her.”
I’m at the top of the stairs when I feel her as an ache in my chest and a gentle tug at the back of my mind, then a wave of despair hits me in the solar plexus and spreads outward, cold as ice.
The end.
Goodbye.
“Tor…” Leif grabs hold of my shoulder.
Where is she?
The threads binding us to Cora thrum and then are silent. “No.” I turn to face the others. “No…She can’t be…” I search deep, trying to grab hold of the thread that binds me to her, but it slips through my grasp like a ghost.
No. No, this can’t be happening, but there’s a silence inside me now, an emptiness and an absence.
An absence of her.
“What is it?” Wren asks. “What’s wrong?”
Leif makes a choking sound. His eyes fill with tears and he falls to his knees, arms wrapped around his torso.
Rune throws back his head and howls a mournful lament. But I don’t allow the grief to take me; instead I claim rage.
I let it loose. Let it burn a path through my veins, and setting the beast free from its human skin, I barrel down the stairs and slam out the door, running, running toward Grimswood Manor.
* * *
JASPER
Conah and I take turns battering the door. The crack above the frame grows, moving toward the runes. Less than an inch and we’ll have it. Once the rune is disrupted, the spell on this room will be broken.
Doesn’t matter that these runes are new to us. The rules of magic are the same.
At least I hope they are.
“One more hit.” Elijah rattles his chains, eager to be free.
Those fuckers must be spelled into being unbreakable.
Conah hits the door with his shoulder. The frame shudders and the crack grows. The reaper steps back.
My turn.
I charge. My shoulder meets the door and then there’s a sharp crack. My skin prickles and power surges through me.
Elijah’s shackles fall to the ground with a click, and the warlock cries out in triumph. The cell is suddenly a hive of power that mingles and thrashes, grateful to be free.
My connection to Cora flares, and despair slams into my chest.
Pain.
