AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER18
we’ve got some mysteries to solve
Using a food processor, distilled water, and a touch of olive oil, Romy created a paste from the roses they’d collected. The recipe was from theDivina Maledictioand was so easy to make she questioned why it was such a secret. Why would anybody keep medicine from the sick if not to control? Why murder a man like Dr. Clive Rice, who only sought to help all preternaturals? Romy’s answer was in the questions.Allpreternaturals. The stark reality was that the coven—her coven—deemed themselves as chosen, superior beings. And her ancestors, specifically her grandmother, Alizon, had generated a totalitarian empire where witches reigned superior and other races were second-class citizens.
Delacroix royalty had always been a running joke Romy assumed no one took seriously, but they did. When she became high priestess, she would work to change their reputation. Silvan and Bastian would help her.
Dane would too. That was the reason she went to his apartment instead of making the paste at her house. Her parents would freak out over her going to Mar Island with Silvan, but Romy was certain they'd understand that part since they were also looking for Fenrir’s Rose. But placing herself in mortal danger? Running for her life and fighting horrifying creatures? Nope. They’d never come to terms with that. Despite the urgency to heal Thora, Romy couldn’t get the creatures out of her mind. She didn’t believe they were preternatural. Maybe long ago they had been, but they’d certainly been corrupted by a black magic practitioner with the intention to destroy. She wasn’t familiar with using blood in spell casting. Hell, she didn’t know much about spell casting period, but she was certain blood was primarily used for evil. And those creatures… definitely evil.
The magnitude of all she’d overcome in one night was overwhelming. Had Silvan and Bastian not been there with her, Romy would have died. Had her powers not manifested, they might have all died. The candescence was a miracle, but her gift was a marvel—at least in her eyes. All witches had elemental control but traditionally favored one over the others. Secretly, she’d always hoped hers was fire. Selene had been the last fire witch born into the coven, and when the time was right, Romy looked forward to learning from her aunt.
Romy had told Dane everything, minus the interlude in the clover, but he no doubt suspected it. Despite his position as her Chosen, he didn’t seem upset when Romy told him that both a lycan and a vampire had come to her aid. Actually, he was intrigued. He’d leaned in, inquiring about the details of their adventures, paying careful attention when Romy described Silvan’s shifting or the way she heard Bastian’s voice in her head. If she didn’t know better, she would swear the two men turnedhimon.
If so, that was erotic as hell.
“Coast is still clear, Ro.” Dane peered in the door of Thora’s bedroom. He’d offered to come to Delacroix Manor and be Romy’s lookout while she gave the medicine, and though she was thankful for the assistance, she needed moral support even more—a skill Dane had in spades.
“And I’m just supposed to put it under her tongue and on her gums?” This seemed too simple. There had to be a catch. No way a paste made from flowers and oil could heal a dying girl.
“That’s what the book said.”
Thora didn’t stir when Romy applied the medicine. No change in her vitals on the monitor, and no movement except the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest.
“It’s not working.” Dread gathered in the pit of her stomach. She was nauseous. “Dane… it’s not working.” Why had Romy believed it would? Why had she wasted her time gallivanting to a stupid island when she could have spent valuable time with Thora?
“Have you put your magic to it yet?”
“I… mean… kinda?” She enunciated each word slowly. “I’ve tried, but I just can’t replicate what happened on the island, can I?”
“Well… sure.” He slipped inside Thora’s room and shut the door. “We just have to get you in the right frame of mind.”
“This is hopeless, Dane.” Embarrassed, Romy hung her head. Silvan had assured her that she’d manifested her magic, yet she was still as inept as before her candescence. She never assumed the experience would transform her completely, but having more self-confidence than before the change would have been nice.
“Fire magic is special. Think about it. Fire is the most destructive of all the elements. A fire chemically changes anything it touches, which can be a gift in the right hands. But in the wrong ones…”
“A tragedy,” she finished.
“Exactly.” Dane stepped closer to Romy, then placed his hands on either side of her face. “But it’s more than that, Ro. It’syou. If you believe in yourself half as much as I believe in you, Thora will be kicking our asses in Monopoly again before the morning. You don’t have to channel what’s already inside you. All you need to do is find it.”
Deep within, Romy sensed the same feeling she’d felt before she and Silvan scaled the ravine, when his and Bastian’s power joined with hers. A power that seemed to intensify even more with Dane.
“Your eyes, Romy…” Dane’s hand went to her lower back, and he moved them in front of Thora’s mirror. Her irises were no longer green but a shimmering amethyst. “Try now.”
“I won’t hurt… this won’t burn her?”
Water pooled in Dane’s palm. “Won’t let that happen.”
Disregarding all the limitations that told her she couldn’t heal Thora, Romy climbed on top of the bed and straddled her sister’s lower half. Hands on the girl’s knees, she closed her eyes and went to the flame, separating her spark. The violet blaze grew quickly—wildfire—and spread over everything. Then she wasinsideher sister’s body.
Romy recognized Thora’s sickness—a dark orb residing in her stomach that gathered good cells and nutrients for itself and released a poison with each beat of Thora’s heart. And there was something else… something that nearly terrified Romy to the point of stopping. Fenrir’s Rose.
This disease had beencausedby Fenrir’s Rose.
Before she pulled back from Thora, she considered the creatures on the island—if they’d been corrupted with black magic, then it was possible Thora had been too. Possibly by Fenrir’s Rose. The how and why were a mystery, one she’d have to put aside solving for now. The flower had healed before, and there was no reason to believe it couldn’t again. She could heal Thora. Shewouldheal Thora.
The bed groaned beneath her as it levitated off the ground. Heat radiated from her fingers into Thora, into the disease. She could see evidence of the paste she applied, now in fluid form and boiling from her fire, engulfing the orb. Like a blaze incinerating a forest, one second it was there, the next it was gone.
Romy looked up. In the corner of the room, Dane smiled.
