Page 65 of Investigation of a Quest

“If Isobel is dead, then the witch can have me.” Eamon’s slightly sharper canines glinted in the sunlight. “If I can’t have my heart, then the world is damned. Let it burn… starting with you!” And then he launched himself at the werewolf, the bear, and the witch. He hadn’t had a fight like this in centuries. He was going to enjoy these deaths.

Fingers trailed down Bel’s cheek, and she leaned into their comfort. She loved when Eamon woke her like⁠—

Bel recoiled as nails scraped across her skin. This was not Eamon’s hand.

“Did you really think I would let you kill yourself?” Dorothy asked as Bel returned to consciousness. She felt as if she’d crashed against the earth, and she wondered if Dorothy had let her body make impact before rescuing her.

“Your death is far too important to me,” the witch continued. “Did you think I’d let you so carelessly waste it? I must say, though, I am impressed. I didn’t think you had the balls to go through with it. It’s why you’re so… sore.” She gestured at Bel’s bruises. “I didn’t expect you to actually throw yourself off the building. If I had known you were so eager to die, I would’ve taken your threat seriously and stopped you sooner.” She pushed Bel’s hair aside and dragged a fingernail over one of her pink scars. “Your loyalty to this dhampir. It’s never been seen before. That you would die for a creature who only sees you as food. What is this hold he has on you?”

Bel shoved Dorothy’s hand away and sat up without answering. She hadn’t wanted to jump from that roof. She hadn’t wanted to end her life, but if she was going to die, she wanted to leave this world on her terms. She wanted her death to save Eamon, to save her family—both the found and the blood. She’d been prepared to die. She’d been brave until the bitter end, but Dorothy had saved her from death only to force her to face it on a far more terrifying stage. Her bravery was gone, as was her voice. All that remained were sorrow and fear.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dorothy said when Bel refused to answer. “Whatever unnatural connection weaves between you will only bring me victory. Your stunt on the roof painted your blood across this land more than my blade could’ve, so your scent coats this earth. He will come.”

As if to confirm her prophecy, the air vibrated with a roar so unsettling that Bel’s body turned to ice. Her heart rate spiked, and she bit her lip to keep from shaking. She recognized the fear dripping through her skin to settle in her bones. She loved it. It meant she was home. It meant she was safe. Only today it meant the end of the world, and she wanted to scream for him to run. To leave her behind and vanish for the next millennium.

“Right on schedule,” Dorothy gloated. “This was almost too easy. Get up.” She grabbed Bel’s biceps and dragged her to her feet. Bel tried to resist. She fought with everything inside her, but her battered body no longer possessed the fight.

Eamon’s fist closed around Morana’s throat, his fingers digging deep furrows into her skin, and he slammed her back against a tree. “How dare you challenge me!” he shouted as the witch grabbed his head and yanked his ear to her lips.

“It’s begun,” she whispered. “The curse. She’s begun the casting.”

“She fell for it?” Eamon’s voice cracked.

“That you have all three of us bleeding sold it a little too well,” West said.

“You told me it had to look real,” Eamon said. “Trust me, I went easy on you guys.”

“Tell that to my fractured ribs,” Ethan’s wolf whispered as he pulled himself to his full height on his hind legs.

“So she’s alive?” Eamon asked, ignoring the battered werewolf and bleeding bear at his back. “If Morrigan’s casting the curse, Isobel has to be alive, right?”

“Yes,” West said.

“And all the blood?”

“A trap?” the witch said. “A ploy to make you desperate and irrational? But, dhampir…” Morana rested a palm on his forearm. “Morrigan’s approach would be the same as ours. Make it look real. Your human is alive, but in what state? That I cannot say.”

“I…” Eamon dropped her unceremoniously to the dirt. “I can’t stay here.”

“Don’t!” Ewan’s bear barreled forward and shoved him off course; this derailment no longer an act. “Do not risk yourself.”

“But what am I to her?” Eamon hissed under his breath as he regained his balance. “What is my life compared with hers? Why are we so worried about my life when hers is worth one hundred of mine?”

“Because you could end the world,” West said. “We’re already too close to her power. I can feel the curse surging, and while I believe we’re just outside her reach, I pray my calculations are correct. As long as you’re beyond Morrigan’s grasp, your human will live.”

“So kill me if the curse takes hold, but I can’t wait here.” Eamon vibrated with desperation he’d only endured once before, when he realized that the body in the morgue wasn’t his Bel. That utter fear of knowing she was out there but in danger. The reality that he might lose her in the most horrific way possible.

“My friend.” Ewan’s monstrous paw seized his chest and restrained him against his fur. “Give them time. Give them a chance to complete the task at hand. There is a father in that building who’s as determined as you, but they’ll fail if we don’t keep up the distraction. So give them a few more minutes.”

Dorothy dragged a blade over Bel’s cheek, pricking blood from her skin. Bel tried to avoid the dagger’s cold edge, but with the ropes binding her painfully in place, her recoil was more an act of defiance than one of avoidance. The air vibrated with war, with a familiar anger that ripped through her chest to leave her raw and shattered. Eamon had come, and he was barreling recklessly toward the apocalypse. He’d resisted the black magic the first time, and she wondered if he had the strength to overcome it again. Not that she would live to see it. But the people she loved might.

“Please fight it,” she whispered as Dorothy turned her back on her. “Please remember who you are, remember that there are people who love you now. Don’t let the curse return you to the monster you’ve fought so hard to bury.”

“What is that?” Dorothy asked, her hands pausing above the blood fueling her black magic, and Bel froze. Had she heard her whispered plea to Eamon?

“There are three of them.” She straightened, eyebrows raised, and Bel’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t heard her silent speech. She’d heard something far worse. “Imagine what I could do with three alphas.” Greed tainted Dorothy’s eyes. “I wonder if I could use you to curse all three. It would probably weaken the bonds, though. It would be best if I bled another sacrifice. Your partner, perhaps?” Her lips curved into a wicked grin.

“Leave Olivia out of this,” Bel said.