Coveted

“Yeah, but didn’t you kind of expect it?” I questioned. “It’s not like she was going to sit around waiting to be sentenced and removed from the council. Holly desires power; if she thought she would be kicked off the council then she’s looking to get it somewhere else, somewhere darker.”



Growing up we had been taught to fear black magic and all that it entails. To us, those who used it were like the bogeymen of the supernatural world. Demons and things alike were to be feared, even by us. The allure of their promises of greatness was enough to tempt some to their side. What power-hungry fools like Holly didn’t realize was that in stepping over that line, they lost their souls to something far worse.



“With Holly on the loose you’re not to go anywhere by yourself,” Dorian ordered. “Understand?”



I shook my head in frustration. “Just because you’re nervous about not being able to see my destiny is no reason to treat me like an incompetent child,” I snapped. “I’ve gotten pretty good at sensing death on people and connecting with the spirits. If I happen to get into trouble, I will rely on those powers.”



Dorian’s eyes crinkled at the sides. “This isn’t a challenge to prove you know what you’re doing, Gwen. Rogues aren’t your everyday bad guys. Or have you forgotten how easily you could have died at Broomsticks? Where was all this knowledge of your powers then?”



Damn, I hated when he made a point. “I panicked,” I admitted. “It won’t happen again.”



“Am I done here?” Eddie asked, floating down and in-between us. Dorian waved his hand, a silent dismissal. Eddie’s transparent form disappeared, leaving Dorian and me to scowl at each other once again.



“Gwen, this isn’t a joke. You’re lucky the one at the store wanted to take his time and enjoy the kill. If it were any other rogue you would have been too far gone for me to save you.”



“Don’t you think I know that?” I growled. I wasn’t going to let the reminder of Dorian saving my life tame the fire licking my insides. The irony of our conversation did not escape my notice. Hadn’t I just got done treating Fiona like a helpless damsel?



I ran my hands through my hair, losing some of my steam. “Listen, I know how dangerous it is. I’m more scared than I’ve ever been, but…” I paused to take a breath. “I can’t keep having everyone else fight my battles. How am I supposed to evolve when you want to put me in a cage and throw away the key?” I held up the dagger. “Why teach me to throw a knife when you’re hell-bent on keeping me out of the line of fire?”



The weak fragile girl inside me told me to shut the hell up and accept Dorian’s protection, but there was something else within that was tired of relying on others to clean up my messes. I didn’t just want to face Holly—I needed to. I needed her to see that even though she had demon-possessed rogues and a few black magic tricks up her sleeve, I wouldn’t cower and run. Never again would I second-guess my ability to protect myself.



Dorian’s hands fell on my shoulders, trailing a path up and down my arms. Tipping my chin, I looked up at the beautiful angel of Death. My fiery anger was doused as soon as he bent down and placed a whisper of a kiss on my lips.



“I care for you,” he breathed. “And I will gladly put you in that cage before I ever allow harm to greet you.” A grin bent one side of his mouth up. I knew he was teasing about the cage, but the tone of his voice and set of his eyes made me wonder if just maybe there was a kernel of truth behind those words.



Chapter Eighteen



True to her word, Fiona called back fifteen minutes later. Since I was hellbent on going after Holly, Dorian made me continue practicing with the dagger. The weight of the blade was finally starting to feel comfortable in my hands. The hilt felt like it’d been customized for my palm. And I had improved my throwing technique, fueled by my purpose.



Now, I was sitting cross-legged on the gym floor cradling the phone against my shoulder while I held the dagger out in front of me. The evil-eye stared back at me, its iris encrusted in gleaming sapphires.



“I wasn’t able to place her,” Fiona said defeated. I knew how excited she was about learning spells and proving useful. The fall in her voice spoke volumes of her disappointment.



“It was a long shot,” I consoled her. “I’m guessing she doesn’t want to be found and has placed a blocking spell. Maybe that’s why the council was worried, because they already tried tracking her.”



“If I was there I could make one for you too,” Fiona said. “Or, I could read off the ingredients and walk you through it over the phone.” She sounded hopeful and it pained me to have to tell her that my magic was dwindling. The last time I used a large amount I had almost gone comatose.



“I can’t,” I confessed.



“Sure you can,” Fiona replied. “It’s a simple spell. You’ll just need an object to enchant and a few herbs. I’m sure you could find them at one of those voodoo shops.”



I frowned, wishing it were that easy. “No, I don’t think I physically can. Now that I’m embracing my spirit walker side, my other side is fading. Already I can feel my magic waning.”



There was a sharp intake of air. “Seriously?”



I nodded and then realized Fiona couldn’t see me. “Yeah. Bummer, huh?”



“I’d die if I lost my magic,” Fiona added.



And I didn’t doubt it; Fiona lived for magic. “Maybe…” I began. “Maybe I still can. I mean, all of my magic isn’t gone. I can still feel a slight tingle beneath my skin. If it’s a simple spell I may have enough to execute it.”



“What does being a spirit walker have to do with losing your magic?”



“From what I understand, Dorian said I cannot hold both magic’s. Since I never used my spirit walker side before, other than helping the FPD out a few times, my witches’ magic was the strongest current. Now, that I’m focusing on my spirit walker magic, the other is fading.” I took a breath, trying to think of a more logical explanation. “I suppose you could say I’m just like any other witch: some specialize in potions while others excel at physical magic, but neither can do both, at least not well. My witch side specializes in death.”



“I think I understand,” Fiona said. “It’s like with me; I stunk at shooting magic from my hands, but spell casting comes easy to me.”



“Exactly,” I smiled. “I can still try to the blocking spell. I’m not sure if it’ll help, or if I’ll even have enough magic to execute it, but I’ll wear every charm possible if it will help.”



With a blocking spell Holly wouldn’t be able to find me, which in turn meant the rogues wouldn’t either. If I could have the upper hand in tracking her down, then the game would be in my favor. The trick was, how the hell would I crack her blocking spell?



“Okay, tell me what I’ll need.” Standing, I placed the dagger back in the box and headed to the office in search of paper. As Fiona rambled off the instructions, I sat down and eyed the drawers of the desk. I’m sure Dorian wouldn’t mind if I looked if I had a good reason. Opening the top drawer, I shuffled things around but found nothing to scribble down the spell on. The second drawer gave resistance when I tugged on the brass handle. With a little more force, I was able to get it to open. A leather-bound journal was sticking halfway up, the cause of the struggle. Leather cording wrapped around the two-inch thick book, tied in a sloppy bow. The patina told me that it was old. Dorian keeps a journal?



“Did you get all that?” Fiona shocked me back to the now. I hadn’t realized she was even talking.



“I was looking for a piece of paper,” I told her, eyeing the drawer I found an empty envelope and grabbed a pen. “Okay, I’m ready.”



She ticked off the items and I scribbled them down.



“How long does it have to soak?” I asked, my eyes and curiosity going back to the journal. In as many millennia as Dorian had lived, I could only imagine what was written on those pages. Another cool thought were all the souls he must have met along the way. Did he escort anyone famous to the realm of the dead?



I picked the journal up, cradling the phone against my shoulder. I eyed the door, listening for Dorian. I could hear him open and close a cabinet in the kitchen. Leaning back, I began to untie the bow. I knew it was wrong, but my curiosity got the better of me.



“Overnight, under the glow of a full moon.”



I added that information to the list. “When is the next full moon?”



“Tomorrow night.”



Looked like my luck was turning around. I had expected to have to wait a week or longer. I tugged the bow loose and opened the cover of the journal.



“Are you sure you don’t want me to fly down there?” The hopefulness of Fiona’s voice tugged at my insides. She was really trying to be here for me.



“No, you stay in Moon. It’s safer,” I told her, feeling like I was reprimanding an excited puppy. “But I really appreciate your help, Fiona. And I miss you like crazy.”



“I miss you, too,” she admitted. “Moon is boring without you.”



That made me smile. “Is Ethan dropping the ball already?” I joked.



“No, he and I are good,” Fiona said. “But it’d be nice to hang out with you too.”



The first few pages in the journal were blank. A drawing of a bridge was on the fourth page. I studied the lines of the architecture and the details that went into it.



“Enough about me,” Fiona said.



Dorian appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with crossed arms and a serious face. I fumbled, bolting upright in the chair and dropping both the phone and the journal.



“Find anything useful?” Dorian said.



“Sorry,” I told him. “I was just curious.”



“What?” Fiona questioned.



“I’m talking to Dorian, just a minute.”