“Who?” This came from Marlene, who looked more intrigued than upset. Alaric was reluctantly impressed that she should hear such shocking news and remain upright.
Lady Catharine’s gaze shifted to Marlene. “Robert Ashley, the author of the Book of Magical Charms, and your direct ancestor. He wanted you to find the Book and the key, because not only does Hector intend to raise the Prince of Darkness, he also intends to unleash all the chaos of hell that goes along with it. This land will be filled with demons and dark angels, an apocalypse the likes of which Dante Alighieri only hinted at in his Divine Comedy.” Her voice lowered to a mere whisper. “It shall be the end of us all.”
Alaric lowered his head and closed his eyes. In all the time he’d worried about Hector’s resurgence, he had never anticipated the level of his revenge. Feeling defeated and knowing that the sands in the hourglass were steadily diminishing, he said, “There is only one thing to do if we have any hope of winning this impossible battle.” He lifted the paper knife from his desk and made a genuine cut along his palm. He held it out toward Marlene and prayed that she would not come to despise him for this someday. May she find a way to forgive him for his actions but realize that he had done everything he could to keep her from a life of continual dread. “Miss St. Clair, I welcome you into our coven as the thirteenth member to complete our circle of light.”
She hesitated for a moment, and then slowly got to her feet. Walking toward him, he saw her hand tremble as she held it out to him. He took the knife and made a single cut through the palm that was just starting to heal. It began to seep.
Swallowing hard, he grasped her hand with his.
He saw the moment that power started to flow through her. Those mesmerizing, dark eyes were enveloped with energy as his magic flowed into her.
With his mouth set in a grim line, he whispered, “Forgive me.”
She fell to the ground, their bond separated, but broken nevermore.
Chapter 22
Marlene was caught between the world of fantasy and reality. She wasn’t certain if she was in heaven or hell, but surely, she had died.
The breath had faded from her lungs, and her mind was spinning around a black void. “Alaric…” She called out his name, but her voice did not sound as it had before. It was soft and distant, like an echo of the woman she had been before her rebirth.
That was the only word she could use to describe how she felt when she finally opened her eyes. Everything was… strange, as if she had never truly used her vision before. Now, it was all so fresh and new—and bright, as if she was beholding everything around her for the first time.
She was lying in a bed, but she lifted her arm and spread her fingers wide, wiggling them as if she had never beheld them before. They moved with a strange reflection, as if she were looking at them through a wavering mirror.
“She’s awake!”
She heard someone yell, but she could not say who it was, whether it was male or female. Everything seemed so foreign. Or perhaps she was the one who no longer fit into the usual world—the one that belonged to humans.
Witch. Forever bound to the man she loved.
Was there no greater purpose to be had?
She wanted to shout to the heavens, to rejoice that she now shared the magic of his bloodline, and the power of the entire coven. With her sacrifice, she had united them all, an unbreakable circle to stand against Hector and the dark forces he wished to rise from the depths of hell.
Good would prevail. They would prevail.
Someone took hold of her hand. It was Lady Erica. “My lady,” she whispered.
“How do you feel, dearest?” Her lined face was wreathed in concern.
She wasn’t sure how to explain it, so she said the one word that embodied all of it. “Remarkable.” She laughed. “I feel as if I can conquer the world.”
“It is an illusion that shall fade in time.”
Her eyes shifted to the man who had spoken, and she started to rise when she spied Alaric.
He held out a hand and moved to her side. Kneeling down, he spoke gently. “No. Save your strength.”
“I’ll leave you two alone.”
Marlene heard Lady Erica speak, but she only had eyes for Alaric. She drank in the very sight of him in his black and white finery, the midnight hair that was slicked back from his forehead and secured with the queue.
And those eyes. Those glorious, blue eyes that had looked upon her with such longing, the hands that had touched her and brought her such pleasure.
She was surprised it had taken her this long to admit the feelings that had been there, likely from the first moment she’d spied him sitting in that dim study and working so diligently in his ledgers. The fascination she had felt had rapidly developed into more.
So much more.
