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The voices are muffled, at first, then come into focus.
I hear my name, and my head jerks around to find the speaker. He’s a tall man with a balding head and a deep frown. He’s talking about my being one of “them” now and an abomination. That my mere existence is blasphemous.
Others mumble in agreement.
“They’re back in Los Angeles, hidden behind the walls of the manor and playing king and queen to their vicious acolytes,” someone calls out, and I freeze.
This vision isn’t of some past occurrence like all the others before it have been. No, this is happening in real time, and somehow, I’m here to witness it. Is this some kind of astral projection, or something? An out of body experience?
The witch at the front of the room shouts out a call to order before saying, “We must eliminate Eden Grundelier and end this atrocity. You all know the prophecy, and we cannot allow it to come to be.”
Prophecy? What prophecy?
I go completely still as my gut twists in that familiar way. Whatever prophecy they speak of has to do with me, obviously. At least, that’s what these witches believe.
And if they believe it, do others? Did my parents? Did they hide my existence to protect me from being hunted down and eliminated by witches like these?
The woman who last spoke suddenly stiffens before her gaze bounces around the room.
“Someone is here. Someone who doesn’t belong.”
Oh, shit. Can she sense me?
Can these witches use magic to trap me here, somehow?
I start to panic, then the scene vanishes as everything goes black once more. I blink my eyes open, and I’m back in my bedroom, stretched across the bed. Pushing myself upright, I yank the necklace over my head and drop it to the mattress beside me.
That was the first time I’ve brought myself out of a vision. My head is pounding, but my lips curl up slightly as I recognize the accomplishment. I did it.
I conjured a vision and escaped it all by myself.
Once the ache in my skull dulls a bit, I pick up my phone and read the mysterious text message again.
You need to be more careful, Eden.
It’s definitely a warning. And the necklace showed me not who the text came from, but what the sender was warning me about.
But who, exactly, sent it?
35
A LITTLE HELP FROM A FRIEND
I’m still pacing the length of the room when Jesse returns, and the second he lays those gorgeous dark eyes on me, they narrow with concern. Rushing forward, he plants himself in my path and takes my hands in his.
“What happened?”
I’m shaking my head before he finishes the question. “I’m okay.”
“But something did happen,” he says.
It’s a statement, not a question, but I nod in answer anyway. Tightening his grip on my hands, Jesse pulls me toward the bed. Sitting, he tugs me down beside him and rubs comforting circles over the backs of my hands with his thumbs.
“Tell me.”
Biting my lip, I tug one hand free so I can pull my phone from my pocket. Opening the text message I received earlier, I pass the device to him.
“You need to be more careful, Eden,” he reads aloud with a furrow in his brow. His gaze darts up to capture mine. “Who sent this? There’s no number.”
