He skidded to his knees, reached me, and turned his suspicious gaze on Bridgette. Before he could conclude that she’d done anything to me, I brought my shaking hands up towards him. “He’s digging up a body. One of the dead witches. There’s dirt on my hands. It’s on my hands. It was a vision—” I didn’t get a chance to finish.

  He reached towards me, grasped my hands, and stared at the dirt. It transferred onto his fingers.

  It couldn’t be a vision – couldn’t be some magical trick of the light. The dirt was real. It was covering me like I’d been the one to carelessly dig up the dead.

  I was shaking, shuddering, my shoulders feeling like they would dislodge from my back and fall into my lap with wet slaps.

  “What’s happening? What’s happening?” I choked on my words.

  Max took several seconds to stare at my hands before he tilted his head back. “Break the circle,” he commanded in a resounding voice.

  When the other witches didn’t break the circle quickly enough, Max pushed to his feet. He strode over to the magical circle then kicked his foot through the chalk.

  I heard the sound of glass breaking. I smelled the sudden scent of candle wax and burned dirt.

  The other witches in the room screamed, jolted back, and clapped hands over their heads.

  Bridgette winced. “That’s gotta hurt,” she commented, then she returned her attention to me.

  “Why did you break the circle?” I heard Sarah Anne demand, for the first time anger filtering through her usually sweet tone.

  I didn’t say a word. I stared at the dirt under my nails, wishing for it to disappear. Because it had to be part of the vision. There was no dirt in this room – save for the special chalk from the Isle of Wight.

  So there was no way that earth could be smeared over my hands, clogged between my fingernails, and trailing down my wrists.

  Max shoved hard on his foot, skidding down to his knees as he returned to me. He grasped both my wrists tenderly, simply hooking his fingers around the skin as if he was scared to hold my hands completely.

  With a strong frown pressed over his lips, he inspected me.

  We heard footsteps, and Sarah Anne finally came close. “What happened? Who broke the circle? I was so close to getting Fagan—”

  “Just give it a rest, Sarah – our magic had unintended consequences,” Brigitte explained.

  Unintended consequences? I still kind of felt connected to Dimitri. Despite the fact the circle was broken, and its magic was waning, I swore I could still feel a spade in my hands, wet clogged earth under my feet, grass trapped beneath my nails.

  I shook my head, squeezed my eyes tightly, and tried to dislodge the sensation. But nothing would work. Nothing would work!

  And the dirt? It did not disappear.

  “You should have been more careful,” Max snapped.

  I opened half an eye, expecting his scowling face to be pressed up close to mine. But he wasn’t talking to me; he was talking to Sarah.

  He let go of my wrists tenderly then pushed to his feet. “You said you were just doing a location spell.”

  Sarah, totally surprised, blinked her pretty eyelashes. “I was.”

  “That’s a transport spell,” Max spat as he pointed towards me.

  Sarah shook her head, obviously surprised. “No. We didn’t have the magic for that—”

  “Well someone did.”

  “Why isn’t the dirt disappearing?” I demanded. When nobody answered me, I took in a shaking, stuttering breath and screamed, “Why isn’t the dirt disappearing? It was a vision, wasn’t it? Then why isn’t the dirt—”

  Bridgette leaned down, locked a hand on my shoulder, and brought her face close to mine. “It’s okay. The dirt’s not disappearing, because… it’s real.”

  I turned my horrified gaze on her. “It can’t be real. I was standing here. Not out there with… he was here… he was digging up a dead body.”

  “Who?” Sarah demanded.

  “Dimitri,” Max answered as he turned on his foot once more, pushed down to his knees, and returned his attention to me. He cast his wary gaze to the dirt, obviously giving it one last chance to hurry up and disappear. When it didn’t, he took a pressured breath. Though he was the one breathing, somehow I felt so connected to him that I drew in a deep breath at exactly the same moment.

  Silence spread through the warehouse.

  I was possessed with the idea that I had to remove this dirt from my body immediately.

  I brought my hands down and tried to wipe them on my jeans.

  Neither Max nor Bridgette would let me. Both shoved forward, catching the same hand.

  Bridgette cast her gaze towards Max quickly before locking it back on me. “No – you can’t get rid of it. Not yet. We can use it.”

  “Use it?” I stammered. “I have to get it off me! He was digging up a dead body. I was digging up a dead body!” My mind merged the two thoughts.

  Max shook his head, his expression grim. “No, Chi,” his voice dropped, became certain in that way it always did when he was trying to calm me, “you were not digging up a dead body. You were momentarily possessing Dimitri. Now think. Do you know where he was? Which graveyard?”

  The last thing I wanted to do right now was plunge myself back into that memory. It was too raw. I feared that if I did it, I would wind up back there, inside Dimitri’s head as I gleefully dug up the dead.

  I clenched my teeth and shook my head. Max almost looked as if he wanted to reach up and grab his hands either side of my cheeks. He didn’t. He simply held my gaze. “Chi, this is important. Any details. Do you remember where you were?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Just give her some time,” Bridgette snapped.

  “We don’t have time. She doesn’t have time,” Max added in a lower, constricted tone.

  … I didn’t have time.

  This séance had been designed to find Fagan, designed to buy me at least 24 hours. Instead, I’d been plunged into the dark mind of Dimitri.

  I’d wasted my only opportunity.

  I opened my eyes. I turned my hand around, shrugging it out of Bridgette’s grip. Before she could reach forward and lock my hand in place once more, I looked at my watch.

  I swallowed.

  Two hours.

  I had two hours until Fagan came for me, captured me, and cut my heart out.

  I began rocking backward and forwards. It wasn’t a conscious move – it was a last-ditch attempt to release the tension welling in my body. My body felt like it was seconds from breaking.

  “Chi, it’s okay,” Max said, voice different. Gone was the certainty. There, in its place, was the tenderness – so delicate, so warm. It called to the center of my soul. He reached a hand out, too. He let go of my wrist, placing that hand on my shoulder, his fingers tantalizingly close to my neck, one brushing up against my ear.

  The warmth… it was amazing. My fear had been like a cold, violent blizzard. His touch? It was like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a hard day. All my troubles… they felt like they were… drifting away.

  “We need that dirt,” someone said, interrupting the moment. It was Sarah Anne.

  “Just give her a second,” Max said, voice still tense.

  “We don’t have time,” Sarah insisted. “We’ve only got two hours—”

  “I know,” Max said, voice dropping low, shaking through me.

  Though all I wanted to do was remain there in that warmth, I knew I couldn’t.

  Because as every second ticked by, it was a second Fagan came closer.

  Finally, I opened my eyes. Though I could cast my gaze to Bridgette or Sarah or any of the other witches, I looked right into Max’s eyes. Everyone else fell away as I stared at him.

  Why did his magic – his mere presence – have such an effect on me?

  And, more to the point, could I trust that effect? Should I listen to my heart? Or should I listen to Fagan? Because, like it or not, my vision had been real, and soon, Max would betray me.

  Maybe that question blazed through my eyes, because he let his hand drop to my shoulder. “Just hold on. Just trust me,” he added in such a quiet tone it could not carry.

  Again, I was faced with that question. Trust or turn away?

  And again, I listened to my heart.

  “We just need a sample of the dirt,” he said as he reached forward, plucked a tissue from somewhere, and scraped it along my hands.

  I felt charges of magic release with the move. They’d been trapped under the clods of earth. And the magic? It was dark, dense, felt like a shadow playing across my skin.

  Though I wanted to jerk back, I gritted my teeth and held on until Max had apparently gathered all the dirt he needed.

  He raised to his feet, hesitated, and handed the tissue back to Sarah. “We need to figure out where Dimitri is, now,” his voice dropped.

  “No, we should be focusing on Fagan,” Sarah demanded.

  “Didn’t you listen to what she said? Dimitri’s digging up a dead body. I’ll guarantee you it’s one of your witches,” Max’s voice dropped.

  I could see Sarah out of the corner of my eye, and I watched as she seemed to freeze. Her hands shuddered by her sides as her eyes pressed wide open.

  Bridgette pushed to her feet. “It’s okay, Sarah – we can catch that bastard. But Max is right. If Dimitri is digging up one of our sisters,” her tone became so twisted it sounded as if she wouldn’t be able to continue, but she took a sharp breath and opened her mouth again, “then we have to stop him. He’ll be doing it for some spell. You know that. He’ll be trying to locate us.”

  Sarah closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut as tears trickled down her cheeks.

  Again, my heart went out to her.

  It took a long time, but she finally opened her eyes. She nodded. She accepted the tissue from Max. She clutched her fingers around it tightly, not letting a single speck of the dirt escape as she whirled on her foot and strode towards the center of the circle. “Witches, gather,” she commanded.

  Bridgette lingered by my side for a moment, casting her gaze down to me. “You’ll be alright. We’ve got this. You can trust us.” With that, she turned and strode towards the séance.

  “Do you need me?” I stuttered.

  She turned over her shoulder and shot me a subdued grin. “No, we’ve got this. Just sit this one out.”

  I pushed to my feet, not really hearing her, intending to walk towards the circle anyway. Max reached out a hand and locked me in place. “You’ve done enough, Chi,” he said.

  There wasn’t a hint of derision in his voice, no disappointment, either. Just pride – pride mixed in with fear.

  Slowly, I turned to him. Facing him made everything feel real, closer, more dangerous.

  I knew he wanted to ask if I remembered any more details from Dimitri, but he didn’t. He pressed his lips together and just stared at me as if he were trying to take a mental image.

  That made my stomach kick, made a new wave of fear rush down my back, prickling and spiking against the skin.

  Once more, I turned my head down and faced my hands.

  Max wouldn’t let my gaze linger. “Chi, you have to push it out of your mind. You need to concentrate on…” he trailed off as if he couldn’t think of something I should concentrate on right now. The fact I was two hours away from dying, maybe? The fact it wouldn’t be the curse that got me in the end, but one of Max’s friends?

  I jerked my gaze up. There was a question I should have asked way sooner. “Who is Dimitri, anyway?” I’m surprised I could control my tone.

  Max didn’t answer. Instead, he swallowed the move tight, pushing his Adam’s apple hard against his T-shirt.

  “Max?”

  He shook his head sharply. “An acquaintance.”

  “Acquaintance?”

  “A fairy I’ve known for some time.”

  “How long is some time?”

  He dwindled into silence.

  “Max, please, just tell me everything you know. I just need to…” I trailed off.

  “He’s a fairy, about 500 years old if my calculations are right. I’ve known him for,” Max pressed his lips together, “some time.”

  Was Max trying to hide his age from me? Was he worried it would pique my already considerable curiosity about his past?

  “Max?”

  “He’s gone from contract to contract, helping master after master. No loyalty,” he commented, voice dark.

  “… You mean, he’s kind of employed by people? Is that how it works with fairies?”

  Again Max swallowed. “With some fairies. No loyalty,” he commented to himself under his breath again. “He could never see anything through, Dimitri.”

  “Do you think his current master is Fagan?”

  It took a long time for Max to shrug. “Probably. It’s hard to say, though. It definitely has to be someone with money – you saw Dimitri’s travel keys, and those things aren’t cheap. They’re also extremely hard to get hold of.”

  It was my turn to swallow. “Why… why would he contract himself to Fagan? I mean, what does Dimitri get out of working for someone else?” It probably sounded like an extremely innocent and stupid question and was probably one I should have asked the first day I’d met Max.

  It was better late than never.

  “It depends on what a fairy lives for,” he commented.

  I didn’t understand. I wanted to understand. I searched through his comment for any meaning, but I soon frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Chi, that now is no time to discuss the finer points of being a fairy. All you need to know about Dimitri is that he is a dark bastard, and that he will switch masters in an instant if he thinks somebody can give him more power. Because that’s his reason for being,” Max said through clenched teeth.

  “Power?”

  He nodded, the move jerking and shuddering as his neck muscles seized up.

  “… How do you know him?” I asked after a considerable pause, the chanting of the witches filtering in behind us.

  Now Max dropped eye contact and almost looked as if he wanted to push back, turn, and leave.

  “… Max?”

  “He once helped me out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he once offered me a way out of something.”

  My stomach kicked. Don’t ask me why my stomach kicked. It wasn’t like Max’s statement meant anything to me. And yet, somehow, it appeared to mean something to my heart. Suddenly, it raced. It wasn’t racing with passion, just a spike of fear. “He offered you a way out of what?” My voice sounded far-off, detached.

  “Never mind,” Max said firmly, and this time it sounded as if he really was going to drop the subject. Indeed, he leaned forward, pushed a hand out, and trailed his fingers through some of the dirt that had fallen from my hands and slicked across the floor.

  I watched intently.

  Maybe he could feel the intensity of my gaze, because he shrugged back, pushed to his feet, finally broke away, and walked towards the edge of the circle of witches.

  It drew my attention to them.

  They had taken up position in a large circle that spanned most of the expansive room.

  Within the circle, I could see the same 100 incense sticks burning, the same hundred candles, and within them, the tissue of dirt Max had taken from my hands.

  This isn’t going to work. Fagan is too far ahead of you. Your only chance is to run. A voice suddenly sounded in my mind.

  I tried not to pay attention to that voice; I tried to push it back. It was insidious and grew louder as I sat there in a pile of dirt, listening to the witches’ chant.

  Maybe my only chance was to leave, was to run, was to get as far away from the witches as I could. That would put Fagan off the scent, wouldn’t it?

  Or maybe it would just lead me right into his hands.

  I screwed my eyes shut as I begged my power to return – as I begged it to tell me what to do.

  In times of true, perilous danger, sometimes I could see five seconds into the future. I’d be able to use that snippet of the future to change the present. So why couldn’t I conjure that power now? Why couldn’t I call it to me when I needed it most?

  I screwed my eyes shut as another surge of emotion shot through my heart, practically blasting me backward.

  My powers may be considerable, may be worthy enough to garner Fagan’s covetous attention. But they were also cruel, too. They seemed to be able to get me into trouble, but they weren’t particularly good at setting me free again.

  And yet, I didn’t stop. My eyes tightly screwed shut, I kept trying, kept forcing myself into the task of seeing the future. As the witches’ chanting swelled, as the smell of incense and candle wax filled the air, I tried with all my heart to save it – my heart.

  For I was my only hope.

  8

  I was back in the restaurant, rugged up on one of the couches in the back room, a warm, steaming cup of cocoa clutched tightly in my hands.

  I watched Max, Bridgette, and Sarah as they argued about what to do next.

  Max appeared to be unable to keep his eyes off me for long. His gaze kept ticking towards me every several seconds, almost as if he were double-checking that I was still there.

  Well, I was still here, and it would take a mountain to move me.

  I wanted out. Out of this situation, out of this world. Inheriting a massive, fancy house had been nice. Finding out I could genuinely read the future had been a surprise. But this?

  It was too much. Too much.

  “We have to go after Dimitri,” Bridgette insisted, hands on her hips. “If he successfully manages to,” she gritted her teeth, “chop off the finger of one of our dead sisters, he’ll be able to use it to locate this place. We won’t be safe. No one will be safe,” she said as she cut her gaze towards me, her meaning clear.

  Max stiffened, which was kind of surprising, considering he already looked as if someone had poured concrete down his mouth. “That doesn’t matter. This place is already compromised. We have to leave, go underground, wait. We need to buy ourselves another day.”

 

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