Darkness was within reach.
Just before I succumbed to Death’s embrace, Zephyr unclenched his fists, and a fistful of air slipped into my lungs. I lurched forward to drink it in, my chest heaving to collect a handful of silky breaths. My lungs filled, and a hoarse and rugged cough scratched my throat.
“He can’t help us. He’s no one.” Zephyr’s eyes were callous when he looked upon me one last time. “He’s nothing.”
First, I was a monster. Then I was hers. Now I was nothing.
Adora
To my beloved black sea,
It's why we read romance, to deprive our heart until it becomes utterly helpless, then fill it to the brink with warmth, only to freeze and shatter it all over again; to make sure it still works. I’m certain those who endure persistent heartbreak is either a lonely, sadistic creature or one who has a heart wrapped in thorns with the longing for a novel to struggle past and touch what remains inside, broken flesh, blood, and all.
I've always thought of myself as the lonely, sadistic creature that no one could truly love, but since you, I've realized this hasn't been the case.
Oh, how I wish you could unwrite a story that has already been told. Erase it, press delete until the words vanish, and all that remains is a new brilliant white page to scar.
A new beginning.
There wassomething about being surrounded by books just before daybreak when fingers made of light probed paned windows and touched embossed spines—a sight of literary seduction.
However, there was no time for belletristic beauty.
Across from me in the library, Alice sat, glasses hanging off her turned-up nose as she indulged inA Long and Fatal Love Chase. As for me, I’d been drifting from the same written sentence for the last half hour because my mind wasn’t with the letter but with Stone.
I despised just sitting here all night, waiting in the quiet with thoughts of him. For hours, I’d spun the pearl bracelet around my wrist.
The last chapter of Alec & Circe had stunned me.
Mom had inserted the black pearls I’d stolen as a girl into the book, but how had she known about it, and how had her story matched up with Mrs. Madder’s story all those years ago?
Stone had found them, and each time they slid across my wrist, visions of him back at the lighthouse, flipping through the pages, immersing himself in the story to find connections collapsed in my mind. Perhaps he was right, and there was a purpose to the story. But for me, these pearls would only whisper empty promises Stone and I may never have the chance to make.
For all I knew, the Heathens could have killed him already.
If this were the case, it should make my life easier. Because if he were dead, I would no longer sink into fantasies or drown in a world where we could be together. If he were dead, I could return to the girl I’d been all along.
But the thought brought on an ache. Inside my chest lived an ice-sculpted heart with sharp, jagged edges that carved his name into the bones of my ribcage. These cuts were severe and brutal, reminding me that this thing we shared was too deep to escape.
When it came to Stone, I didn’t have a choice.
My eyes flicked back and forth from the clock to the window, waiting for daylight to wash over the town in totality so I could go to the west side, where the Heathens lived.
As soon as a baleful sunrise broke as if it cut open a vein, a fresh crimson glow bleeding across the ocean, I shot to my feet, dust threading into the light. “I can’t stand to stay in this manor a second longer.”
Alice set her book down and bounced to her feet after me. “Where will you go?”
I grabbed my cloak that was lying across the couch.
“I just need to take a walk,” I said. “Alone.”
I’m Adora Sullivan, the daughter of a founding family. If the Heathens hurt me in any way, it will wreak a coven war in Weeping hollow.At least, this was the thought I held on to as I left the Cantini Manor.
Town Square wasempty except for The Bean, where townspeople gathered outside its doors, looking for caffeine to stay awake. I walked the two miles, dipping between buildings and crossing desolate streets.
There were only two places I imagined the Heathens would keep Stone: Julian’s cabin in Norse Woods or Goody Farms.
Rumors slipped between curious lips about what the Heathens did at Goody Farms. Especially in the barn. Years ago, before the Shadows, when the Heathens were only children, it was their cries echoing throughout Weeping Hollow. No one knew why, but this was the place they had to be.
