Page 69 of Heartflame

I held the bottle up to the weak light. Even through the dark glass, I could see that the bottle was only half full, the potion inside murky and thick.

Now came the dangerous part.

I uncorked the Magical Accelerant and readied my hand, trying desperately to keep myself from shaking. With the other, I pulled the poison’s cork free and poured in not one drop or two, but the entire fucking bottle of accelerant as I held my breath. As soon as the last drop fell, I corked the bottle again, holding it over the oil lamps flame so the wax would reseal.

Through the dark glass I saw the potion change in a matter of seconds. It went from dark and murky to opalescent and shimmering, like it was full of crushed up pearls. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I lifted it up, swirling it in the air.

It was so beautiful and probably strong enough to kill an entire room full of people in a matter of seconds, including myself.

I just hoped I’d get the chance to use it before it was too late.

Chapter 29

Aeron

The chains dug into my scales where they pinned me to the floor. Quill had been gone for at least an hour, if not more, and it was starting to drive me absolutely insane to know my mate had been ripped from me. But no matter how much I roared and thrashed and tried to escape, nothing could break the chains holding me down. And when I’d tried to shift back to slip out of them, I found I couldn’t shift at all. Something in the magic of the chains kept me trapped in my full dragon form. There was no escape.

Undead and Purity Front witches watched me struggle, their leader gone into some unknown part of my grandfather’s estate. A part of me hoped he’d come back, that he’d save me and Quill from all of this, from Morgana. But the longer time went on, the more hope began to slip away from me. His wards were impossibly strong and Morgana was controlling the house from the inside now. Even if by some miracle he knew what was going on, I doubted even he and the entire Elder Council could break through now.

A feeling of doom crept into my body, settling in my heart. And soon, I gave up trying to escape. All I could do was lay there with the realization that despite all my power and my lineage and my connections, I couldn’t save Quill, myself, or anyone else in this world. I’d failed them all.

When had everything gone so terribly wrong?

The sound of footsteps drew my attention, and I lifted my head as much as the chains would allow. Morgana returned, still in that white mask, her green magic pulsing faintly around her fingers like a heartbeat made visible. Behind her trailed two of her witches, and my stomach dropped when I saw the small silver blade one of them carried, its edge catching the dim light of the foyer.

“Ah good, still awake,” Morgana said, crouching down in front of my snout with an almost affectionate air, like she was greeting a favorite pet rather than a captive. “I was worried the chains might have knocked you unconscious. That would have made this so much less satisfying.”

I snarled at her, baring my teeth, though the chains kept my jaws mostly shut. It came out as more of a muffled growl than anything threatening.

“Now, now,” she tutted, reaching out to stroke a hand along my snout. I flinched away as much as I could, disgusted by the contact, by the wrongness radiating off her skin like static electricity. “I need your blood, dragon. Just a small amount. Dragon blood is remarkably potent for what I have planned, and yours especially, given your lineage. Pyre blood hasn’t been used in centuries. Not since your kind grew too clever to let themselves be caught.”

She nodded to the witch with the blade, who stepped forward hesitantly. I thrashed against my restraints, trying to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. The chains held firm, biting deeper into my scales with every movement.

“Careful,” Morgana warned the witch. “Not too deep. I don’t need him dying before he’s served his purpose. Yet.”

The blade bit into the tender scales along my foreleg, and I roared in pain, the sound shaking dust from the ceiling above. Blood, my blood, golden and glimmering even in the dim light, welled up from the wound and dripped into a small crystal vial the second witch held ready.

Where was Quill? Was he safe? Was he even alive? The thought of him alone somewhere in this house, hurt or worse, made the pain in my leg feel like nothing at all. I only cared about his safety, not my own.

“There,” Morgana said, straightening as the witch capped the vial and handed it to her reverently. She held it up to the light, watching the way my blood swirled inside the glass. “This will do nicely. Your power will help me greatly on my return to life.”

She tucked the vial into a fold of her robes, and the sight of my own blood disappearing from view sent a fresh wave of helpless fury through me. I strained against the chains again, uselessly, my golden eyes never leaving her masked face.

“You’re wasting your energy,” she said, almost gently, as if she pitied me. “Save it. You’ll need whatever strength you have left for what comes next.”

“What do you mean?” I wanted to demand, but all that came out was another muffled growl, the chains crushing my jaw shut too tightly to form words. Frustration boiled inside me, hot and useless.

Morgana seemed to understand anyway. She crouched again, tilting her head as she studied me with those glowing emerald eyes behind the mask. “Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about your little witch. In fact, I think it’s time we brought him back up here. Wouldn’t want you to think I’d forgotten my promise, would I?”

My heart seized in my chest. She gestured to one of the remaining witches standing near the doorway, a thin man with sunken cheeks and dead eyes that reminded me too much of the corpses shambling around the edges of the foyer.

“Fetch the witch,” she commanded. “It’s time for the next part of tonight’s entertainment.”

The man bowed his head and disappeared down the corridor Quill had been dragged through hours before. I watched him go, dread pooling in my gut like molten lead. Whatever Morgana was planning, I doubted it would be anything good. She wanted an audience for this, wanted a spectacle. And that meant she wanted us both present for whatever horror she intended to unleash.

“You should know,” Morgana continued, straightening once more and pacing slowly in front of me, her green magic trailing behind her like smoke, “that I don’t do things halfway.” She reached up, pointing to a sphere of crystal floating high above our heads. It looked exactly the same as the one my grandfather had given me to communicate with him from school, only far larger. “I want the entire paranormal world watching when it happens.”

Watching what happen? The words settled over me, and I felt the last of my hope guttering out like a candle in a storm.