“So…fuck. You’re saying that my uncle’s torture saved me.” She let out a bitter laugh that hit him like a blow to the solar plexus, and he tightened his hold on her when she would’ve pulled away. While he was sure she’d much rather have detonated and taken the fucker with her, Edgar was infinitely grateful she survived.
Hatred welled up in him at the mention of her uncle, and he looked forward to the next time he saw the bastard, relishing the moment when he could finally make him pay for laying his hands on Annora. “I’m saying that if you’re strong enough to survive your childhood on your own, you’re strong enough to stand up to your father. Your power is contained, keeping you camouflaged in a way that’s unique.”
“Or maybe it’s because we’re mates? Maybe that’s why phantoms are so volatile…they have no one to hold them steady.” She gazed up at him with her brown eyes so dark he’d swear the afterworld stared back at him.
He suspected that, while part of what she said might be true, it wasn’t the whole story.
She was special in ways she couldn’t imagine, and he’d do whatever it took to protect her. “Possibly, but now that others know about you, more will follow.”
“How much longer do we have before Sadie reports us?” Annora reached up and wrapped her hands around his wrists, the heat of her like a brand as she gripped him tight.
“She’ll keep quiet for now, but it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
Even if he had to sacrifice himself to do it.
All he needed was to get close enough to Daxion. He’d been storing up his power. Once the man got close enough, he would let it loose and hope it was enough to destroy the man who had enslaved an entire race.
* * *
Annora didn’t like the way Edgar went silent, no doubt plotting something she wasn’t going to like, and she pressed against him, suddenly afraid. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish. Give my plan time to work first.”
She listened to the steady beat of his heart, only relaxing when his arms came to rest around her. “By starting a war between the races?”
She tipped her head back to glare up at him. “If that’s what it takes to keep you.”
He was hers.
She was determined to do whatever it took so he wouldn’t have to go back to that life of hell.
She pulled away, then walked over to the closet. Before she opened the door, she allowed the afterworld to spill into the human realm. Darkness crept along the wooden frame like mold. Then she grabbed the knob and opened the door.
Inside was the pure blackness of the afterworld. Although there were shelves inside, she could see the other realm beyond, the shadows moving in the darkness. Edgar latched on to her arm, the grip bruising, ready to rip her away, and she quickly grabbed the book.
She’d barely pulled it free when Edgar slammed the door shut, the wood practically nipping at the tips of her fingers. Dust plumed up from the door, then drifted to the ground like the magic had been expelled, leaving them staring at an ordinary closet again.
“Annora—”
“Don’t.” She turned with the book clutched to her chest. “I understand your unease with the afterworld, but the things beyond that gate don’t frighten me. The human world is much more dangerous for me.”
She could see he wanted to argue…and the moment he gave up. He combed his fingers through his dark hair, leaving the strands standing up every which way, very different from the impeccable way he usually looked. She wasn’t sure she found the rumpled look cute or if it disturbed her. He smelled like the afterworld—like home—and it was all she could do not to try and comfort him.
Instead of giving in to the impulse, she held up the book and gave him a bright smile. “You can’t protect me from everything, but you can give me the tools so I can protect myself. How about you give me a few lessons?”
She waited, studying his inscrutable face, every inch of him the royal pureblood. Taking the trick from Loulou, she blinked up at him with the innocent look that always made guys cave to her every whim. “Something in here might be the only thing that can save me.”
He sighed in defeat and held out his hand. She smothered her victorious grin when he grabbed the book, then glared at her over the top. “But we do this my way. When I say we’re done, we stop.”
“Yes, sir.” Annora barely resisted the urge to do a happy dance as she followed him to the middle of the room and took a seat on the floor.
She dropped down next to him, then leaned forward and craned her neck to get a better view of the book. Some of her joy drained out of her when she saw his solemn expression.
“It’s a family grimoire.” He ran his hand over the cover, a frown crossing his face, then his head snapped up. “But it’s been infused with dark matter magic. My guess is your mother knew what you would become and was trying to prepare you for your life.”
Chapter Fourteen
“What?” She jerked back in shock, plopping back on her ass in a clumsy sprawl. “So the witches…my mother.” Annora reached out but curled her hands into fists before she could touch the book. “She was a witch. That would explain how she knew about phantoms, but how would she be able to write about their magic? I was told the ability to practice dark matter magic was lost to the witches centuries ago.”
Edgar gave her a steady look that made her swallow hard, and she wanted to turn away from the truth in his eyes.
“Your father—she knew he would come for you eventually, so she created this book to help you learn about your past without having to rely on him for anything.”
She ran the tips of her fingers reverently along the edges of the book, then snatched her hand back, her face hardening with understanding. “And my uncle knew—or he suspected. He found the book, but he couldn’t access the pages. That’s why he took my blood, but it still wasn’t enough for him to cast spells. He’s a dud.”
“Best guess…he sold the book to Erickson.” Edgar tapped his finger on the front of the cover.
“And why Erickson thinks I belong to him. My uncle sold me to him, too.”
Edgar didn’t react beyond clenching his fingers into fists. “Most likely. He needs you to make the book work. He was able to use your blood for small spells, but he wants more. He’s developed a taste for the power.”
Annora sank her fingernails into the meaty part of her palm, trying to calm herself as the darkness rose at her agitation. The last thing she needed was to rip open the afterworld and bring her father down on their heads before they got Logan back and put their plan in action.
Blood welled from the tiny cuts. Before she could wipe away the evidence, Edgar clamped his hands around her wrists. She tugged on her arm once, then gave up control under his steady look. Instead of demanding that she heal, he took her hand and placed it directly on the leather cover of the grimoire.
At first nothing happened, then it felt like she’d picked up a live coal. The air around the book snapped and heated, her skin sizzling like a frying pan full of hot grease. When she tried to jerk her hand back, Edgar tightened his grip. But it wasn’t him that held her still…the book was sealed to her palm. She gritted her teeth until she was ready to swear they’d crack, refusing to release the scream building up in her throat.
She would not be weak.
The cover of the grimoire rippled, and power shimmered up her arm. Her skin tingled like a numbing balm. By the time she lifted her arm and cradled it to her chest, she was shaking, her heartbeat erratic.
Edgar looked at her in concern. “Are you okay?”
Annora shrugged, using the pain to focus instead of letting it consume her. “A little warning would’ve been appreciated.”
His fathomless blue eyes darkened as the afterworld swirled into them, rising with his agitation. “I’m sorry—if I had known, I would never have allowed it to happen.”
Sincerity rang in h
is apology, and she sighed. He’d spent most of his life protecting her from pain. No way in hell would he have inflicted harm on her if he could avoid it. “I know you wouldn’t.”
She opened and closed her hand to get the feeling back into it, then nudged the book with her foot. “So what did that accomplish? It better be good.”
Edgar raised a brow at her, a smirk playing on his lips. Then he spun the book and flipped open the cover to reveal her mother’s handwriting scrawled across the pages. Annora reached out, touching them reverently, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to drown her.
“When my uncle gained custody of me and learned what I could do, he tried to control me by threatening to destroy my mother’s things.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a self-deprecating smile. “Needless to say, nothing survived. I was nothing if not stubborn.”
A muscle jumped along his jaw, and she pursed her lips, looking away. He took her beatings more personally than she did, like he’d somehow failed her. He didn’t seem to understand that nothing was going to stop her uncle.
Only death.
His death.
And she was determined the man wouldn’t escape her this time.
He would never lay another hand on her or anyone else, not if she had anything to say about it.
Annora flipped through the book, allowing Edgar time to regain his calm. The beginning of the book was older, the writing more slanted, the language older, and one she only vaguely recognized.
There appeared to be close to four hundred pages, possibly five or six authors. Only one section looked masculine. When she reached the end, a folded page fluttered to the ground. Annora hesitantly picked it up and opened it.
Her mother’s handwriting jumped out at her, and a tremor shook her hands.
It had only one short paragraph.
I’m sorry I didn’t have time to watch you grow up into the beautiful woman I see when I look at you. Keep this book close. It’s the only thing that will keep you safe. Love you, baby.
The page blurred and she quickly blinked away the tears.
“What does it say?” Edgar didn’t try to read the note.
She glanced up at him, studying him a moment, then handed it over for him to read.
“I think she dug up every bit of phantom lore she could find and wrote it in the book to protect you.” He nodded toward the grimoire, frowned, and flipped back a couple pages, then ran his fingertips along the ragged edges where sheets had been ripped out.
He glanced up at her. “Do you still have the page you found?”
Annora scrambled to her feet and collected the page from her discarded jeans, then handed it over to him. He unfolded the sheet and held it next to the ragged edges. Much to her surprise, magic sparked along the seams, sealing them together until it looked brand new.
“How did you know it would do that?” Annora demanded, dropping down to get a better look at the newly restored page.
Edgar frowned at her, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t. It was more of a hunch. The book practically radiates magic. It wants to be whole. You don’t feel it?”
Annora bit her lip, opening her senses, and saw the book swirl with a rainbow of light and dark colors. “The magic is not the same as it is in the afterworld.”
It wasn’t what she was expecting.
She wasn’t sure if she’d even be able to use it.
He only nodded, seemingly not worried in the least. “It makes sense, since your mother was a witch and not a phantom.”
“So this isn’t the ancient grimoire the witches are so eager to get their hands on?” It was all she could do not to snatch the book away from him to read more of her mother’s legacy to her.
“Possibly.” He shrugged when she forced her eyes away from the book to give him a questioning look. “The grimoire goes back five or six generations. In each generation, only one person in the entire family can access it and keep it up to date. The spells are unique to that family. So, out of hundreds of people in this family line, only you have access to it.”
“Me?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about the possibility of having more family out there, not if it meant they knowingly left her to suffer at her uncle’s hands. Her mother never mentioned them, which was telling, especially since the two of them moved around so much when Annora was younger.
Unaware of her rambling thoughts, Edgar nodded. “You. Instead of continuing to record spells for the next generation, she recorded phantom lore to help you.”
“But if she was a witch, how can the magic be helpful against actual phantoms? She couldn’t know what would work if she couldn’t cast the magic herself.” When she flipped to the back of the book that held the information about phantoms, Edgar closed it with a snap. “Hey!”
“You are now bound to the book, but I caution you against using the spells until you know what you’re doing. One wrong move can have dire consequences.” He scowled at her when she opened her mouth to protest. “The afterworld behaves a little differently with each phantom. Not many can access it the way you do…they’re not bonded in the same way…but that doesn’t mean people can’t find you there and hurt you.”
“I do have one question…why did my mother not tell me?” If she’d known, she could’ve protected herself better, and never let her uncle discover the truth.
She could’ve had a normal life.
Edgar didn’t flinch away from the question. “My guess? She was protecting you the best way she knew how. She bound your gifts when you were younger, but when she fell sick, it was too late, and she was too weak to help you. She must have been a powerful witch to even be able to conceive you. Phantom births are hard, and severely drain the mother, which is one of the many reasons why mating is banned between witches and phantoms. Death of the mother is almost guaranteed.”
Annora could only nod, seeing her life through the eyes of a mother trying to keep her daughter safe.
“It’d also explain why you’re so exceptional.” He didn’t say it to flatter her, but that didn’t stop the way a blush heated her cheeks as his eyes caressed her face. “She couldn’t let any other witches know about you for fear they’d take you away and claim you as their own.”
“But I’m only half phantom,” Annora protested.
“That doesn’t matter to those who are addicted to power. Even if you were weak, they’d want you for breeding purposes. It’s one of the reasons we try to rescue anyone with the dark, elemental power.”
“Rescue?” Annora lifted a brow at him, her snarkiness evaporating at his blank expression. “You don’t know.”
A frown appeared between his brows. “Know what?”
“They’ve been killing those who refuse to go with them.”
Edgar immediately shook his head. “No, they bind those who refuse.”
“Edgar…my uncle said if I ever tried to escape, anyone who saw my magic would kill me. He said it was forbidden magic, punishable by death. After talking to the witches today, I was able to piece it together. The witches are desperate for power. They wouldn’t kill off their own kind. That only leaves one who would do such a thing.”
“Phantoms.” Denial darkened his eyes at the horror of what she was saying, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“They would have no choice. Even if they bound those who refused to bend to them, that would still leave their children open to inheriting the gift. They’ve been eliminating everyone who refuses to bow to them. They can’t risk leaving anyone alive who is powerful enough to endanger their reign.”
“I…didn’t know.” He stared down blindly at the book. “I’ve been gone too long, no longer involved in enforcing the laws, but I wouldn’t put it past your father.”
She flinched when he called the mass murderer her father, but she couldn’t deny the truth of it. Being an asshole ran in the male side of her family apparently. “So what can you teach me about how to stay alive and out of my father’s clutches?”
His calm returned as t
he conversation veered away from his past. He opened the book, flipping back to where her mother started adding to the grimoire. “It looks like she came into possession of the book a few years before your birth. There is a pause between when she was recording regular spells to when she switched to phantom lore.”
Annora leaned closer, spotting the date. “When she became pregnant with me.”
“She more than likely recognized your father as a phantom. When she became pregnant, she sensed you were different, maybe could even feel your growing power. In fact, your presence might have given her the ability to access the powers she needed to find out about phantoms and their capabilities. Phantoms normally can’t do spells or magic, not in the same way as witches. Only the strongest phantoms are able to manipulate dark matter enough to cast spells, and I’m guessing you’re one of the few exceptions, especially thanks to your mother’s heritage.”
“Is there a location spell? Can we find the missing pages? My uncle wouldn’t go anywhere without them in his possession. If we can find them, we can find him, and if we find him, we can find Logan.” She couldn’t stop the hope that swelled in her heart and watched avidly while Edgar slowly flipped through the pages. She wanted to rip it away from him and search herself, but she didn’t have a clue what she was looking for.
As if reading her thoughts, particles rose up around them, the tiny spots of blackness suspended in the air like raindrops. Then it was like they were sucked toward the book and soaked into the pages.
The pages turned slowly of their own accord, like a single finger was pushing at the bottom corner of each sheet, then another one, and another, each one faster until it was flipping pages faster than she could track. Edgar lifted his hand off the book and looked up, watching her with narrowed eyes, as if he suspected she had something to do with it.
She could only shrug. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
But she would take it.
Shackled to the World: A Phantom Touched Novel Page 15