Page 45 of Tall, Dark and Haunted

Chapter Twenty

Rhiannon

“Can’tyoujusttell them to hold off?” I cry.

The sun’s rays are already starting to peek over the buildings. They’re faint, but Jewels Cafe is looking brighter in the rising dawn, and the smell of coffee—and pumpkin spice—is starting to permeate the air. Which means that either the cafe owners are very early risers, or there’s barely any time left.

The deputy mayor shakes her head and turns away from me.

“Juniper, please! Hurry up!” I cry as the witch circles Margam Castle, reciting her spell. She moves the salt around with the toe of her boot, her motions nowhere near fast enough to compete with the rising sun.

“I know what I’m doing,” she says, not paying me any attention. She also doesn’t acknowledge the deputy mayor’s words. She doesn’t acknowledge that we’re running out of time!

“Set me free!” Henry Jones shouts, trying to escape the confines of the castle. A reminder of why we’re doing all this.

It takes two men to hold him down—a wolf shifter and a troll—but even they are struggling. Enzo Rossi seems much more in his element here than he was giving the guys makeovers. I would smile if the situation weren’t so dire. And Liam—Violet the librarian’s troll cop mate—is scowling so hard at the poacher that you’d think the man would faint on the spot.

Instead, he struggles, trying to break his arms free. They manage to pin them behind his back, but then he twists, and it’s too late.

“Koltza!” he shouts, twisting his wrist in Juniper’s direction.

“No,” I cry, rushing towards the witch.

After everything that’s just happened—after watching my great-, great-grandfather die… die die, not ghost die—I know that there are far worse things than spending an eternity floating around, unable to touch anything or anyone.

Sure, my great-, great-, many times great-grandfather said he wanted his fate, but how can I be sure he found his family in the afterlife? And even if he did, Juniper didn’t sign up for that. I can’t let her die because of me.

I launch myself in front of her, but Red captures my arm and pulls me back. Good thing, too, because Juniper easily deflects the spell.

Red slips the stone into my hand and closes my fingers around it. Davy wraps an arm around my shoulders from behind, holding me in place. And then Topher completes the circle.

My mates surround me, protecting me from any errant—or intentional—warlock spells. And over Topher’s shoulder, I catch a glimpse of the wolf shifter and troll restraining the wizard again before he can cast.

I start to sag in relief when the coven begins to recite words in a language I cannot understand.

“I’m so sorry,” the deputy mayor says. “But what’s done must be undone. It’s now or never.”

My men wrap their arms more tightly around me, and I memorize their warmth. The feel of their solid chests against my body, their strong, protective arms embracing me. The way they smell all spicy, making me think about all the things I want to do with their bodies. All the things I won’t be able to do.

Magic swirls around us. The spell builds, and a sick feeling grows in the pit of my stomach.

“I can feel it,” Red whispers. Red. Who rarely says anything unless it’s really, really important. If Red is speaking, then this is it. It’s really all over.

“It’s the weightlessness of ghostdom,” Davey says, resignation swimming in his gaze.

Topher’s arms tighten around us. “This is it.”

“There are worse things than being ghosts,” I tell them. And this time, I believe it. “We can spend an eternity together.”

“An eternity,” they echo. It’s a pledge. A promise.

We may never be able to touch or kiss or stand like this in each other’s arms. I may never feel anything on my skin. I may always look exactly the way I look at this moment, my face pale from fear, my eyes bloodshot from crying. But at least I’ll have my mates with me.

This isn’t the future I wanted, but it’s better than being dead-dead. It’s better than not being with them at all.

“Almost got it,” Juniper says. Over Topher’s shoulder, I can see her waving her arms over the salt line surrounding Margam Castle. She mutters words in a language I don’t recognize, but it’s already too late.

The street around us, Juniper, and the coven start to fade. Their voices become faint and they become translucent, so I can see right through them, to the ruins of Margam Abbey. Soon, they’ll be gone, and only that which belongs in Wales will remain. Including us.