We trudge across the salt, our shadows stretching under a stupid-gorgeous canopy of stars. The night wraps around us like a blanket, quiet and empty. No animals, no people—just endless white salt that crunches under our boots. Kinda eerie, if I'm honest.
“So Corvin has no clue about your whole demon situation?” I ask, because the silence is getting awkward.
Chad doesn't even look at me. “Nope.”
Great. So much for small talk.
When we reach the center, I plop down cross-legged and start my breathing exercises, trying to ground my spiritual aura. Chad hovers nearby like some demonic bodyguard while I close my eyes. The weirdest part? I actually feel safer knowing he can go full demon-mode if something attacks us. And that's annoying as hell.
It was easier to just hate him, but now I owe him the debt of life.Great.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter, slicing my palm open with zero ceremony. Blood wells up as I carve the summoning runes. “Helena... Ezekiel... Angus... get your ghostly butts over here.”
Crickets. Literally and metaphorically.
A whole minute of absolutely nothing. Great. My ancestors are ghosting me—pun totally intended. Could be the distance from Darkbirch, but my gut says it's because that blue fire knocked me sideways. That crap probably did more than just crack my ribs. The kind of damage even my potion can't fix.
Then—Helena's whisper tickles my ear like a cold breath.
Chad's eyes go dinner-plate wide.
I whip my head around and there she is. Like, really there. Still dead-girl pale, but so much clearer than usual. Like she's upgraded from 240p to 4K.
“The Farrow Circle,” she whispers, her voice sliding into my brain like ice water.
Oh. That ritual. The nasty one.
“Helena, you can actually talk!” I can't help grinning like an idiot. “You're leveling up, huh?”
“No, you are,” she says, then—poof—vanishes like someone yanked her plug. Typical ghost drama.
My stomach drops. At least I got my answer, even if I feel like someone drained my battery to 2%.
Chad kneels in front of me, all concerned puppy eyes. “What'd she say?”
“The Farrow Circle,” I tell him, still staring at the empty space. “You saw her too, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And she seemed?—”
“HD quality? Absolutely.” He smirks. “You're getting good at this, Brynn. Might have to retire the 'Lesser Salem' nickname.”
“You could do that right now, asshole,” I grumble, shoving his shoulder.
He laughs—actually laughs—and pulls me up. For a second we're just... there. Holding onto each other. His eyes are doing that flickery red thing that's annoyingly hypnotic. His lips part and I'm thinking maybe?—
Then he opens his stupid mouth and ruins it.
“So, are we doing this Farrow Circle thing or just waiting for more clearbloods to finish us off?” he asks with his typical charm.
“Do you even know what the Farrow Circle is?” I ask.
“Nope.”
I roll my eyes. “And here I thought you were one of the smart ones at Darkbirch… or were supposed to be.”
“All brawn, baby,” he says with that stupid smirk.
