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She didn’t bother looking back, kept moving forward as the dark shadows continued to swirl. She reached the end of the row and turned up the next, her gaze studying everything, her ears listening for any sound.
“Julian?” She tried her com again, but the static was too loud, and she switched it off. Whatever weird mojo was going on made the device pretty much useless. She was on her own.
The silence was heavy, weighing on her. Her heart beat against her chest, and the adrenaline that rushed through her body made every nerve ending sizzle with power.
She carefully made her way down the long row and stopped when a noise crept through the silence. At first she didn’t know what it was, it was soft, feminine. It took a few seconds, then she realized it was the sound of a woman weeping.
Sweat rolled down the back of Jaden’s neck. Her body was heated, and mist rose from her skin to halo her frame. She exhaled softly and moved forward, her dagger at the ready and the Glock held firmly in her right hand.
She rounded the corner cautiously, at first seeing nothing but mist and shadow, then it all fell away.
And she felt her heart break at the sight before her. She knew it was wrong, impossible, but the hope that sprang from her gut was nearly crushing.
Her mother knelt amongst the filth and wet of the floor, her body twisted as if in pain. She was sobbing quietly, her gentle profile so familiar.
Jaden took a step closer. This place is haunted. Ana’s words echoed in her head, and she paused.
Her mother turned to her then, the eyes empty and rotting with maggots as she held her arm aloft. The hand was gone, leaving a bloody stump in place, and Jaden bit her lip in horror at the sight.
Her mother opened her mouth to speak, yet no words came forth. Black liquid spilled from the corners, the stench was nearly overwhelming, and she heard her mother speak, inside her mind.
Help me.
Jaden took a step backward, confused and angry. She knew the head games were part of Cormac’s dark magick, they were built into the wards, but the sight of her mother tugged at the most painful night of her life.
Help me.
Again, her mother’s voice whispered through her mind.
“You’re not real,” she said hoarsely, wanting to look away but not able to.
Her mother’s head lolled to the side, and Jaden wiped away the tears that sprang to her eyes as she watched. She needed to move on, needed to get to the portal, yet her feet felt like they were encased in cement.
“You’re not real,” she said again, this time louder as she forced her feet to move forward, the cold and damp making her feet numb. Her teeth were chattering loudly as her body shivered in earnest.
She gripped the dagger so tightly that her fingers ached. She raised the weapon, knowing that whatever was there, just in front of her, was not her mother. It needed to be destroyed.
The air changed then, the shadows rushing around the woman, and as the darkness parted once more, Jaden cried out. Gone were the maggots, and blood and darkness.
Her mother smiled up at her, her body no longer broken. She was returned once more to her former self, beautiful, serene, and strong. The air sparkled, glowed and encircled her in a soft light.
She looked ethereal. She looked real.
Hope flared, however briefly, but Jaden tucked it away and welcomed the anger that burned inside her once more. She’d not let Cormac win using the demons of her past.
She took a step forward and raised the dagger, hating the way her mother smiled up at her as she did so.
“Fuck you, O’Hara,” she whispered, then rushed forward. She jumped into the air and, at the last minute, closed her eyes, not wanting to see her mother’s face as she attacked.
And yet when she landed, crouched along the floor, the dagger held firm, there was nothing there.
She looked to the side, her heart nearly beating out of her chest, but the space was empty.
“It seems you were right, Degas. My little pet has betrayed her family.”
Dread rolled over in her belly, and slowly Jaden straightened. She turned around, and though her face gave nothing away, inside, fear clawed at her gut.
Her father Jakobi, brother Degas, and their guard Benicio stood several feet away. Her brother looked at her, a smug smile gracing his handsome face, while Benicio looked nothing if not bored.
