I watched him, and shook my head.
“What?” he asked. “Do you want some?”
Blaine slammed closed the trunk to his car, and made a show of dusting his hands off in front of him. “All in a day’s work,” he said.
I punched him in the shoulder playfully. We’d found the fairy wood and moon candle and March and I had hurried to seal the magic from the Elder-Witch’s blessed athame. We’d rolled Broussard in an old sheet, then Blaine loaded him into his car to take to the Bayou. I knew he was joking when he said all in a day’s work, but the word’s held truth. This wasn’t the first time we’d made this journey, but thanks to Agatha-Rosemary, it would be the last. I heaved a sigh, and covered my face with my hands. My relief was so strong it stole my breath and turned my knees to rubber.
Blaine reached out to steady me. He raised his dark brows.
“I’m just so glad this is finally over.” The beginnings of tears watered in my eyes. “I don’t know why I am crying, I am definitely not sad and I—I’m not even scared anymore.”
Blaine grabbed my wrists and playfully pulled my hands from my face. “They must be tears of relief, then. Maybe tears of joy.” He kissed my cheeks where the droplets began to form tiny streams down my face. His lips were light and dry and wonderful.
I relaxed against my best friend. Best friend? Boyfriend? Whatever the label, it didn’t matter. I had Blaine—and he had me. That was what mattered.
I rested my head against his shoulder, and closed my eyes. The vision of Broussard pawing at me in his office, then attacking me over and over still haunted me. “Blaine, what if…”
“Shh. No what-ifs. Everything is okay now.”
His arms circled my waist and squeezed. I breathed in his sweet scent of cologne and sugar. “No. I mean it. What if he comes back? What if none of this worked?”
Blaine leaned away and slid a hand under my chin. “Bradley, look at me. If he comes back, we will kill him again. If he comes back a hundred times, I will be here with you, and a hundred times we will get rid of him. But none of that matters because it isn’t going to happen. You are safe, and I am going to do my damndest to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”
I knew he meant it—every word—and I couldn’t have kept the smile from my face if I’d wanted to. The corners of my lips curled upward and I searched his face, wondering at what point things had changed. We’d crossed a line that night in Marchland’s bug, but before that, when had I first began to see Blaine as a man and not as… Blaine?
“What?” He bit his bottom lip, the way he did whenever he was anxious. How had I never realized how adorable it made him? His beanie covered his dark hair, and his breath smelled like candy. His arms squeezed me and I pressed my body against his.
“You.” Before he could respond, I kissed him. I kissed him and it was deep and wonderful and I didn’t stop until spots danced in my eyes. I didn’t think about the Murphey women’s curse. I didn’t think about anything but his delicious, grape flavored lips on mine.
When I did pull away, this time Blaine was grinning, and it was my turn to wonder why.
“You do realize there is a body only feet away from us and we are standing here making out?”
“Blaine.” I rolled my eyes. “Shut up and kiss me again before you ruin it.”
“Gladly.”
And he did.
ABOUT EM SHOTWELL
Em Shotwell is a cancer survivor, foster care advocate, white belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and a casual geek. Sometimes she writes books about misfits and the people who love them.
When she’s not frowning at her computer screen, Em enjoys spending time outdoors hiking, or indoors daydreaming and wishing she could play the banjo. She’s also the author of several books including the critically acclaimedBlackbird Summer.
What you may have missed in Destiny’s Dark Light--Part One:
In Charleston, South Carolina, Cyan Burroughs is the Book of Shadows destined Loach—a light witch born to save the world from evil. Her great powers won’t awaken, however, until the arrival of the dreaded Dorcha—the dark witch born to destroy humanity in the War. Meanwhile, Cyan also awaits the arrival of the love of her life, a nameless man her psychic aunt Sybil, proprietress of Sea Books, has been painting since Cyan’s birth.
One night, Cyan witnesses a mysterious witch flipping a trolley on Broad Street. The trolley accident causes mass chaos, but Cyan has the presence of mind to assist a seriously injured couple whose car was crushed by the trolley. The woman is unconscious, but the man turns out to be the one from Sybil’s paintings. Now, Cyan knows his name: Liam Cody.
Liam and his girlfriend, Zoe, have only been in Charleston for a month when the accident lands Zoe in critical condition in the hospital. Liam won’t leave her side, but the short blonde who seems so familiar is a strange comfort to him. Cyan wants to protect Liam from her world of witches, especially since she suspects the witch who flipped the trolley is actually the enemy Dorcha. War could very well be upon them. Now is certainly not the time for love, especially since Liam is in love with someone else.
While Cyan and her father seek out a possible target in the trolley attack, Liam watches the woman he adores waste away in a hospital bed. He’s been experiencing sudden, painful headaches for the past few weeks. During one of his episodes, Cyan manages to heal him—the very first evidence of her Loach powers awakening. Indeed, War is close at hand.
When Zoe almost dies, Liam almost falls apart. Cyan realizes the only way to save him is to save the woman he loves, so she calls her daddy Drake in to cast a spell. However, Drake makes the horrible pronouncement that Zoe’s soul is no longer with them. She’s a lost cause. Hopeless, Cyan and Drake leave the hospital and head back to Sybil’s bookstore, where a new, very different painting of Liam awaits.
What you may have missed in Destiny’s Dark Light--Part Two:
With the death of his beloved, Liam Cody arrives at Sea Books to seek comfort with the only friend he has in his new city of Charleston—Cyan Burroughs. He confronts her about being a witch, and she comes clean: yes, she is a light witch, and although she couldn’t save Zoe, she does use magic to take his pain away for a little while.
The two go their separate ways, Liam to drown himself in drink and Cyan to continue the search for her fated enemy: the dark Dorcha, who caused the trolley accident that killed Zoe. Liam ends up sick, and Cyan’s entire family runs to his aid. This is no usual sickness, though. Liam is going into magic withdrawal. Someone has been slipping him a potion—but who?
They come to the conclusion that it’s his boss, Max, who has been lingering over Liam since the trolley accident. Max must have caused the accident, in fact, and he is probably the Dorcha they hunt. In danger due to his fated love connection with Cyan, Liam must be protected, Max must be stopped, and Cyan’s powers—ever increasing—must be honed.
After Cyan cures him of his magic withdrawal, Liam goes searching for Max but runs into Rue, Cyan’s mother. He spends the day with her, and Rue soon becomes suspicious that Liam is a lot more than an orphaned Irishman who works at a fancy bistro. Liam is a born witch—a conclusion that’s proven when he gets angry and his palms glow blue.
When the hospital calls to report Zoe’s body has been stolen, all hell breaks loose. Liam losing his temper results in more manifestations of his newfound magic. Cyan visits her grandmother’s tombstone only to be approached by a very living Zoe. Max attacks Cyan and Liam on the streets of Charleston and disappears into the night.
Back at Sea Books, Cyan’s family pendant manages to heal her of all injuries from Max’s attack, and Cyan, drunkenly, admits that she loves Liam. Sybil finally shows him all the paintings she has made of him over the years, and Drake nonchalantly informs Liam of the only known trait of the Dorcha: the dark witch will have one blue eye and one green.
Max doesn’t fit that profile … but, secretly, Liam does, although he wears a colored contact to hide it. He flees back to his house, horrifie
d by the realization that he is the one Cyan is destined to kill. There, he finds Zoe waiting.
SARA DOBIE BAUER
DESTINY’S DARK LIGHT:
PART THREE
Time will come for Loach and Dorcha to meet,
but divining when is no easy feat.
Born enemies, the Loach shall harness magic light,
while Dorcha brings about eternal night.
The Dorcha will have eyes of green and blue,
while Loach will shine bright of hue.
When they finally meet and their powers awaken,
the magic world will be mightily shaken.
Our people hope for light magic to triumph,
But wishing against fate is an act of defiance.
- The Book of Shadows
Previously…
“It’s one of the only parts in the Book of Shadows prophecy that’s crystal clear,” Drake said. “The Dorcha will have one blue eye and one green.”
Liam tried not to throw up. “Is that right?”
Drake nodded.
“But Max doesn’t have that.”
“A powerful witch who knew the prophecy could do a glamor spell and fake it.” Rue turned back to her daughter who was snoring again.
“Oh.” Liam hid his shaking hands behind his back. “I’d really like to sleep. In my own bed preferably.”
Rue nodded. “Drake, would you take him?”
Despite the yearning to run, or perhaps drown himself, Liam didn’t argue.
He and Drake Burroughs walked through the silent streets of Charleston. There were no police sirens, so he assumed what had happened outside Charleston Place had gone mostly unnoticed—beyond maybe a few drunk kids. But what would the police investigate? It wasn’t as if light left any evidence.
Outside Liam’s front door, Drake paused. “I hope you don’t mind, but we had your house put under protection.”
“Huh?”
“Sybil. She did some protection spells, made it impossible for anyone who wants to harm you to come inside. Even someone as powerful as Max won’t be able to come in if he comes with ill intent.”
“Oh.”
“You did good today,” Drake said. “I’d be half off my rocker by now if I were you.”
“How do you know I’m not?”
Drake smirked. “Naw. Maybe a little spooked is all. Get some rest. Get in touch in the morning?”
Liam nodded but couldn’t look Drake in the eye.
Once inside, he locked the door behind him and sprinted to the bathroom. The bright overhead lights were practically blinding after his nighttime walk. Liam shrunk back at the illumination but reached forward for his contacts case. With shaking hands, he pulled out one contact, then the other—the colored one. From far away, his reflection looked fuzzy, so he moved closer and stared at himself and the eyes he’d been born with.
One blue, one green.
He’d worn the green contact since he’d been old enough to do so, tired of being made fun of for his “freaky eye.” Nobody in America knew about his heterochromia, except Zoe. She appeared behind him in the mirror, as though summoned by his thoughts. No matter that he was half-blind without his contacts; he would recognize her silhouette anywhere.
She leaned against the doorframe, crossed her arms, and said, “Good. Now, you know.”
Now…
Cyan woke dizzy to a bloody palm above her face. Flashes of bright blues and reds assailed her memory as she impotently waved at her father’s hand. “What are you doing to me?” she asked—or more like croaked. Her throat was dry as ancient parchment. She coughed once before Drake handed her a glass of water.
“How much liquor did you drink, girl?” her father asked. “I’ve been trying to cleanse you for an hour.”
She chugged the water and remembered why she’d been drinking: not only was Liam a witch but also his beloved Zoe was either very much alive or a ghost haunting her. Oh, and then, there’d been the battle with Max outside Charleston Grill, in which Liam had possibly saved her life using his newly developed powers.
Cyan sat up and burped the taste of vomit. “Gross,” she muttered.
Drake wiped his hand on the side of his dark jeans. It wasn’t really sanitary, the way her father did magic, but he believed blood strengthened any spell—part of his sketchy past, spent meddling with dark magic.
She realized they were in the back of Sea Books, and she vaguely remembered Liam carrying her there. Rue and Sybil had been nearby, too, and then… She gasped when she remembered the paintings. She’d told Liam about the paintings: works of art based on Sybil’s prophetic visions of Cyan’s true love. She’d once called him “Dofheicthe,” Gaelic for “invisible,” but her destined love wasn’t invisible anymore. He had a name: Liam Cody. He had a place in her heart, and now, thanks to her overconsumption of vodka, he knew they’d been fated to meet since birth.
“Where is he?” She moved to stand in the dusty, incense-scented back room of her Aunt Sybil’s bookshop, but Drake put a hand on her knee and kept her planted.
“He’s home. Resting.”
“Home? Alone?” she screeched. “Max could come after him! How could you let him go home alone?”
This time, her father put his hands on her shoulders to keep her on the couch. “His home is protected by spells that’ll keep out anyone who means him harm. And frankly, little girl, I think the man needed some space. He had a helluva day, or do you disagree?”
In the course of one evening, not only did Liam learn of his own magic heritage, but his girlfriend’s corpse had been stolen from the Charleston morgue, Cyan had then run into said corpse, and Liam had battled a dark witch on King Street before finding out that he was her romantic destiny.
“Okay, he had a long day,” she said, brushing blonde braids out of her face. “Where are Sybil and Mother?”
“Sleeping. Everyone is but you and me.” He sniffed and rubbed his massive palms together. “Tell me about the fight with Max. Sober.”
Cyan thought back. Although she’d been damn drunk when the fight had actually commenced, she remembered it all right, possibly due to panic. “He talked to Liam. He seemed to be targeting Liam actually.”
Drake nodded. “Okay. What else?”
She compared it to her training and realized something. “It felt like he was pulling punches.”
“How’s that?”
“When you and I were training at my apartment, some of your spells hit really hard. It didn’t feel that way. I felt like Max was just teasing us.”
Drake’s dark eyes crinkled around the edges. “Why in the Sam Hill would he do that?”
“I don’t know. It was actually Liam who drew blood.”
“You had a nice burn on your stomach.”
Cyan reached for the black agate pendant around her neck—the one that’d been passed down from her Grandmother Plainacher. “That’s another thing: how? This is supposed to protect me from spells.”
Her father snickered and ran his hand over his chin, desperately in need of a shave. “Well. I think that pendant is full of surprises. We’ve come to realize it doesn’t exactly protect you from spells, but it allows for quick healing, almost immediate.”
“Quick healing?” She touched her stomach—the place where Max had hit her with red light earlier. It felt perfectly fine.
Drake nodded. “Saw it with my own eyes. Talk about an unfair advantage.” He smiled.
“So this is real, then. War is upon us.”
Drake rested his face in his hands and stared at the crooked, wooden floor.
“Earlier tonight, Mother said you were out looking for answers, talking to other magic folk in the city. Come up with anything?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Some of the older kin, they said they’ve felt something recently, like something waking up. You and Max, I assume.”
“The older kin won’t fight in the War.”
He shrugged again. “Most of them might; some of them will. Either way,
I’ve already called in reinforcements.”
“Savannah?” she asked.
He nodded. “New Orleans, too.”
Cyan took a slow breath in through her nose. “I’m supposed to lead these people? All these witches who’ve been practicing the Craft since puberty, and here I am, only had a grasp on it for a couple days?”
“You’re the Loach foretold, honey. They know that. They know what your grandmother saw in you. They trusted her for decades, so they’ll trust you now.”
She leaned back into the comfortable confines of the couch. “When can I see Liam?”
Drake grinned. “At a reasonable hour. It’s one AM.”
“What the hell are you smiling about, Daddy?”
“I like Liam. I really do. And if we all live through this, I want you to know he’s more than welcome in our family.”
Cyan rolled her eyes. “If we live through this.”
Without his contacts, Liam couldn’t make out her face, but he knew it was her. Zoe, his Zoe, was alive, right here in their bathroom, despite being declared dead days ago due to a trolley overturned by a dark witch.
He walked across the room and reached for her face, fearing it would be cold but wasn’t. She felt warm and soft as she looked up at him. Inches away, he could see her clearly. He blinked. “Zoe.”
“Liam.”
“Zoe.” He kissed both her cheeks and then her mouth, but she tasted like nothing. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and crushed her body to his until realizing… “Oh, my God, are you hurt?” He stepped back but kept his hands on her shoulders.
“No.” She shook her head. “Here.” She walked past him and started opening bathroom drawers until she pulled out a glasses case. “Put these on. We both know you’re blind as a bat.”
He never wore his glasses. They reminded him of his days as a lonely orphan, being called “four eyes” by the older kids at boarding school in Ireland. He wore them now, though, and finally saw her clearly. She wore a tight black trench coat and black heels. Her dark brown hair looked professionally styled. When she’d died in the hospital, her face had been yellow and brown with bruises. Now, nothing.
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