Page 77 of Hallowed Bones

“The South,” Cameron answers Dimitri’s musings. “From the records I found, Haven was raised with her mother and father in Charleston, South Carolina. She’s an only child. Alexander never told her of his abilities. She didn’t know who she is—what she is.”

Dimitri turns to Ezra and reaches across the sheets with his gnarled, wrinkled hand. “You must bring her into the coven,” he says, almost desperately. “A female witch with Alexander’s powers … she’ll be a danger to herself and to others without control.”

Ezra’s face doesn’t shift as he responds. His eyes are cold and almost lifeless. Instinctively, I sway toward him, only to be stopped by an invisible wall of ice. Even if I were to reach out to him, I cannot provide help or grounding without his permission. And we both know he’ll never ask for it—damn stubborn bastard.

“We’ll train her,” he says. “We can help her get her emotions and her powers in line. We can make sure she can protect herself from the creatures from the Veil.”

Dimitri’s face brightens. My shoulders relax, but it’s too soon. Ezra’s next words are cut with a finality that hollows out my bones and fills them with dread.

“That’s it, though,” he states. “We will teach her, but we will not offer to make her our priestess.”

Dimitri’s already wan face pales. “That is cruel,” he spits out.

“Ezra…” I stare at the man that we’ve trusted as our de facto leader since childhood, but he doesn’t meet any of our gazes. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked to his uncle’s, and in response to Dimitri, the deadly quiet Lyall, the shocked Cameron, and me, he leaves us with four words.

“This meeting is adjourned.”

CHAPTER 27HAVEN

Addendum: Following the patient’s most recent appointment, an unexplained incident occurred within my office that resulted in the near death of myself and an associate. [details omitted] Though initially dismissive of the correlation, I now find myself … uneasy. [strike that]

Further sessions recommended—under supervision. Unclear whether the patient poses a danger to herself—or if danger merely follows her. [strike that]

—EXCERPT FROM VOICE NOTES TAKEN BY DR. M. ELLISON REGARDING PATIENT HAVEN WARDWELL, AGE EIGHTEEN

Elodie is gone when I return to the room, and though I’ve grown to like the overly bubbly and often pushy woman, I’m grateful for the reprieve. With Lyall’s words still lingering in my head, I gather up the things I need for a shower, shove them in my caddy, and head down the hall to the shared bathrooms.

I stay under the spray long enough that the usually adequate pressure turns to drizzling and the once comfortable temperature drops to ice cold. Only when it becomes uncomfortable and my hands are wrinkled prunes do I emerge, toweling off and slipping into a pair of worn cotton shorts and a T-shirt that’s meant for sleep.

Someone must have come by and dimmed the main lights, because when I step out of the steam-filled bathroom, it’s to find the hallway darker than when I entered. The door creaks shut behind me with a metallic bang. Despite the still relatively early hour, daylight is long gone, and the only lights still illuminating the long corridor are the glowing electric lamps stationed at every other door.

I move slowly down the hallway, cradling my carrier and holding it to my chest defensively. I scan the floor back and forth. My wet flip-flops squelch against the flooring with each step I take.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The wet strands of my hair splash water, leaving a trail behind me. I debate stopping long enough to wrap it up in a towel, but when I try, my hands refuse to release the carrier. My heartbeat thuds against my breast, as if the organ is trying to hurry me along and back to my room. I keep going.

I’m halfway down the hall when I realize what feels so unsettling. It’s not the lights, but the lack of sound. Pausing, I glance back. A few of the lamps at the former end of the hall are burned out, leaving that side of the corridor with only half of its usual nighttime light.

“Hello?” I call out. “Is someone there?”

Is it stupid to ask an empty hallway if anyone’s there? Maybe. It’s definitely giving me horror movie flashbacks. Even more so when no one answers, and yet, there’s still this heaviness that weighs down on my shoulders. It’s as if someone is watching … waiting, but for what, I don’t think I want to know.

Knuckles white against the caddy, I lower it to my side and strain my ears. There’s no sound of feminine laughter, no soft murmuring of voices or the faint buzz of music or a television playing behind closed doors.

I glance up at the nearest lamp when it flickers. Tingles race across my skin—familiar tingles. Now I know what they are. The first signs of magic rising to the surface. But why? Why now?

Clack. Clack. Skrrrrt.

I stop walking and turn completely at that noise—like an animal’s claws dragging across wood and brick. The hallway remains empty. There’s no sign of anything, not even the ghostly shadows that I’d seen at dusk when I’d been with Lyall. The other dorm room doors remain closed.

Regardless of what I see—or rather, what I don’t see—I search the corridor methodically. Nothing. The pressure on the back of my neck that I’ve felt each time before remains. It’s an instinctive warning. Someone—or something—is watching me. Waiting.

For what? I’m not sure.

I swallow hard and turn away from the other end of the hall. I don’t walk this time; I jog forward. Moving faster as the squelching of my flip-flops grows louder. My shower caddy bumps against my hip with each step.

Skrrt. Skrrt. More scratching. Faster now, more insistent.