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“Yep. Roman English. One of the witch families from the Salem Witch Trials.”
“He’s not part of the thirteen.”
“No, he’s not.”
She frowned as Kayde approached us. “He’s one of thedamned.”
Gypsy looked surprised for a moment. “How did he find you? Why didn’t we notice who he was?”
“I think he blocked us somehow. Thedamnedsold their souls in payment for extra powers and abilities. Maybe that means Roman’s black magic is more than voodoo. Thedamnedmade a pact with the devil, remember?”
“I know, Cassie, but this doesn’t make sense. Was he alone?”
Good question. “No, another witch was there. Her name was Morgan and she was a nasty piece of work.”
“Did she hurt you too?”
Sighing, I gripped her hand. “She did but I sort of burned her to a crisp.”
Damian burst out laughing as Gabe and Ryder smirked.
‘I love how ruthless you can be, pet.’
No surprise there.
Gypsy sighed dramatically. “I’m not sorry she’s dead.”
“Neither am I,” I agreed. “There’s something else you all should know.”
“What is it, Cass?” Kayde moved closer, instinctively. “Are you alright?”
“I’m not sure, but I believe Roman now has a small portion of my essence.”
“How the hell did he get a piece of your soul?” Gypsy bounced up from the bed and began to pace. “Correct me if I’m wrong, mom, but how can another witch steal a fellow witch’s essence?”
My aunt had been quiet for the last few minutes, probably processing all of the information I was sharing. “It’s nearly impossible, but . . . if he used the Thrall . . .”
“Exactly. I think he did. Those bites . . . they literally felt like I was being siphoned each time.”
“You probably were,” Kayde interjected.
‘Fuck, pet. This is bad.’
‘Thanks, I’m quite sure I figured that out already.’
“How do we get it back?” Gabriel asked with a growl. He yanked my body close and inhaled the skin of my neck, his wolf concerned and sniffing my scent to ensure I was covered in his essence. Lycan. The need to mark me was so strong I felt his body tremble. “You do smell a slight bit different,” he admitted. A low rumble started in his chest as he jumped up and glanced outside my window. “Something is close.”
Gypsy and I were both by his side in two seconds flat.
At first, I saw nothing in the darkness, then the moon illuminated my yard and I caught the plump little bird cawing from the wrought-iron fence.
The raven.
“It’s just a raven. I see it all the time,” I confessed.
“You do?” Gyps reached for my hand. “You know that ravens are believed to be spirits of loved ones that have come back to watch over you, right?”
How did I forget? Why didn’t it occur to me that this little black bird was here to help me?
