Sinclair’s eyes flashed in triumph as the pistol exploded.
Heat and shocking pain erupted in her chest, and the pool at her back boiled.
Water rose in a geyser.
The last thing she saw before the world went black was Helena, rising on a wave. A goddess. Her goddess. Come to take her away.
26
Power coursed through Helena, an unstoppable river of magic filling her with elemental force. She was alive, and strong, and ready for war. But none of it mattered.
As she rose on the water, she watched the counterpart of her soul shudder from the impact of Sinclair’s bullet, and Helena’s world fractured.
Cynthia collapsed onto the wet floor, blood mixing with water.
Breaking her oath to never fall in love had nearly destroyed Helena.
Breaking her vow to do no harm was easy.
Propelled forward on a stream of rage, Helena attacked Sinclair with claws and teeth, hexes and undiluted hatred, wrath and wicked witchcraft. A banshee scream erupted from her lungs as they tumbled to the ground. Hamlet joined the fray, biting wherever he could find purchase.
Pressing her palm over Sinclair’s mouth, she jetted a stream of water down his throat. She would drown him with her pain.
His dark eyes widened with fear as he grappled with her. He grew frantic in his struggles, but Helena no longer cared. She would claim her vengeance. For Cynthia.
Strong hands gripped her, ripping her away from Sinclair, who curled onto his side, spewing water. She fought against whoever dared stop her, twisting and writhing in their unrelenting arms.
‘Helena!’ Aunt Rowan’s voice pierced the red haze shrouding her vision. ‘Stop.’
Muscle memory forced her to still. When Aunt Rowan used that voice, no one disobeyed. Not even Helena.
‘We do no harm, Helena. Even now.’ Aunt Rowan’s words resonated along her nerve endings as her screams of vengeance became wails of grief. No longer fighting against her, Helena gripped her aunt in a desperate plea. ‘He shot Cynthia. He shot her. He shot Cynthia.’ She couldn’t stop the haunting chant.
‘He did not kill her. She lives. And we are going to heal her. But I need your help, Helena. I need you to help me bring her back.’
Hope, painful and precious, cracked the shell of despair covering Helena’s heart. ‘She lives?’
‘For now. But you must stop trying to kill this piece of filth so we can save your spirit match.’
Reason emerged from the frenzy. Helena wiped the tears from her face and looked into her aunt’s grey eyes, so similar to her own. ‘What do you need me to do?’
A swarm of uniformed men seemed to appear from the darkened corridors of the baths, led by Uncle Lachlan and Thomas. Helena barely noticed as they crowded around Sinclair and his men. The Devil of Seven Dials was still coughing up water, his handsome face red and blotchy. He was lucky to still have breath in his lungs.
Clio must have come with her husband, because she was at Helena’s side with Ellie close behind. ‘Come on. Let’s get Cynthia away from prying eyes. It will take all of us to bring her back from the breach.’
‘We need to act quickly, but all will be well, Helena.’ Whether Ellie had a vision, or she was just speaking from her unshakeable faith that the world was generally a good place, Helena took comfort in her words.
The four witches hurried to Cynthia. With their combined strength and a levitating spell from Aunt Rowan, they were able to quickly move Cynthia into the shower room, away from Scotland Yard’s finest.
Laying her carefully on a bench, the women created a tight ring around Cynthia.
Ellie cast a circle of protection while Aunt Rowan placed her hands on the wound. ‘I can draw out the bullet, but she is weak. We must work swiftly.’
A blue glow formed around the edges of Aunt Rowan’s splayed fingers, spilling into the crimson hole.
Helena crouched by her beloved’s side, silently pleading with the goddess to let Cynthia live.
Cynthia arched her back as her screams drowned out the wet sucking sound of metal being pulled through her flesh.
