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“You expect us to fight with you? To go up against the council alongside a dark witch? That’s suicide.”
“I’m not asking you to fight with me. I’m asking you to stand at my side once the dust clears.”
“I think I have a better plan.” The newcomer’s voice is like acid against my skin, my magic repulsed by his very presence.
I turn to face off with a man who towers just behind me. Aged face hard, he narrows dark brown eyes on my face, and in them, I see nothing but anger. Irritation.
Time to let me out to play.
“Please have a seat, and you can tell me all about it.”
“I’d really rather not.” He grins and raises a palm. Something slams into my chest and sends me spiraling backward into a chair. Vision blurry, I try to get my balance as my ears ring from the force of my impact.
No one makes a sound as I get to my feet. Every witch in here—Chasin included—merely watches me as the man ahead snarls. “You’re going to regret that,” I growl, letting magic seep out of my pores and down my arms.
“I very, very much doubt that.” He takes a step toward me. “Don’t you think the council should get the chance to defend itself? After all, you come in here making all these allegations. Tell me, do you have anything to back it up?”
“I have centuries of interactions with the council to support my claims.”
“You mean the council where you turned down your seat year after year?”
“I wanted no part of what you were.”
He chuckles and continues moving toward me, each step calculated. “No, of course not. Because you wanted the head seat to yourself.”
“You weren’t there when we needed you. The councils were assembled to care for the community.”
“Wrong. The councils were put into place to uphold The Accords. A document your friends break consistently. Shall we speak of the hunter and the vampire? The hunter and the shifter? Or, the hunter-born witch and her shifter?”
Mention of Delaney has me growling.
“I know. How about my personal favorite? The witch and the vampire? A romance that transcends time to be sure.”
“None of my witch friends have mated with a vampire.”
“Not yet, they haven’t. Though I had a great conversation with a vampire recently about the witch he is enamored with.”
Tarnley.“What the hell did you do to him?”
“Nothing. Yet. But don’t you worry. He will be punished for his crimes. As will you.”
Fear for Tarnley has me pulling at the threads of shadow magic. Only, when I reach for them, they’re gone. Frantically, I reach for them again, but still, nothing. I raise my palm and attempt to fling energy toward him, but nothing happens.
A shudder runs through me, a chill driving up my spine.
My magic is gone.
“Everything okay, Bronywyn? You look a little pale.” He grins, showing off straight, white teeth in a carnal smile that chills me.
Raising my palms, I stare down at them, urging a sign, anything that would prove my magic is not gone. How? How could he do this to me? “What the hell did you do to me?”
“Nothing. You are simply worthless.” He turns his attention to the crowd. “Get her and bring her to me—alive.”
Everyone in their seats stands and turns toward me. Everyone but Chasin. I turn toward him, waiting for him to interject, to use his power, but he only watches me. “Chasin!” I roar.
“Sorry, love. You made this bed yourself.”
Magic slams into me, throwing me back through the wall and into another room. Sheetrock dust rains down as I thud to the ground, body aching. I scramble to my feet, reaching out and gripping the closest thing to me.
