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Then, as suddenly as it swamped her, it disappeared.
Olivia blinked. A rectangular door had appeared on the smooth surface. Magic buzzed under her fingertips, ready for her command, calling to her, but no longer attempting to drown her.
“Go. Now!”
She stumbled through the opening with a push from the vampire. Inside was a giant, cavernous hall, with soaring ceilings and thick columns lining both sides, like a throne room in a castle. The same mellow light from the outside illuminated the interior.
A pedestal waited at the center.
Olivia,that voice, that terrible, bone-shuddering voice, called to her. Everything else, sounds, sights, scents, crumbled away until only she and the pedestal remained.
Her feet moved of their own accord.
In the darkness above the pedestal, Betsy appeared as she’d last seen her, her form transparent, her limbs spread in the shape of a cross, with shadows chaining her in place. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale. Olivia sprinted into a run and stopped before the pedestal. On it, a grimoire, much like her family’s, was open to a page decorated with unfamiliar shapes and letters. Even though she didn’t recognize the language, she knew the spell in her heart.
Like it was carved into her being. Into her very essence.
The spell to break the seal was right here. Waiting.
Above the book, a baseball-sized crystal floated in the air, surrounded by swirling tendrils of green and gray smoke.
“Is Betsy still alive?” she asked, knowing Drakos was here, in the air she breathed and the shadows soaking into her pores.
Betsy moaned. Her eyes opened and slowly focused on Olivia. “Ollie?”
Release me. Cast the spell.Dark tendrils whipped around Betsy and the pedestal, rousing doubts within Olivia. This pure evil, this being of hatred and anger and darkness should never be unleashed on this world. She shouldn’t have come. She should’ve listened to Marek and run far, far away.
And what? Wait until Drakos and his followers killed everyone she knew? She couldn’t hide forever. There were five parts to the seal, and hers was only the second. Drakos wouldn’t be free. Not yet. Once Betsy was safe, she would do everything in her power to stop Drakos from breaking the next one.
“If I free you, how do I know you won’t kill us?” she asked.
Seething annoyance.I promise not to kill those you love.The vines of darkness twisted around Olivia, and she fought against her rising panic.Free me, Hexanaja. Or they will not live.
The tendrils stabbed into her. It didn’t hurt physically, but her very soul was being crushed by relentless malevolence, despair splintering her very essence.
An image of Betsy lying in a pool of blood, her limbs splayed at strange angles, her eyes unseeing, flashed in Olivia’s mind. The pain of loss was knife-sharp and stole her breath.
The shadows before her opened into a narrow window, revealing the outside world. Marek fought against the Chinese vampire in the cavernous hall, their strength evenly matched. Somehow, he’d made it inside. Darkness streamed from the pedestal and rushed Marek. He tried to dodge, but there were too many and too fast. They pinned him against the wall, solidifying into thick vines the width of her arm.
Marek!
A sobbing cry escaped her, and searing agony exploded in her center. Marek struggled against the vines in vain, rivers of his blood running down his body and pooling beneath him.
“Stop! Stop it!” she cried into the pitiless void.
Olivia.Her mating bond flashed with Marek’s presence, pushing back against the darkness. His voice was weak.
The window to the real world closed and she was back in darkness again. Olivia clung to Marek’s voice, to his essence. The mating bond flared and burned bright against the encroaching evil.
Say the words, and this’ll stop. They’ll all remain unharmed.
Olivia stared down at the opened grimoire on the pedestal. As if waiting for her call, something inside her pulsed, resonating with the magic of this place. Five white, ephemeral-robed figures appeared around her, chanting in a long-forgotten language. A complicated magic circle, one that would take her ages to memorize, appeared beneath her. Twirling blue and green and purple lights emitted from the circle and surrounded them.
The witches’ words made no sense to her, yet the language sounded so familiar. She muttered after them, her voice taking on the sing-song cadence of their chant. The witches’ eyes beneath their cowls snapped open and glared at her.
He must not be freed!
Flaming magic swamped her and cut off her air. Olivia choked, her lungs searing from unbearable heat. Her access to magic floundered. As she labored to draw breath, as her insides melted to ashes, wild panic set in. Was this it? Would she die from some defensive spell from ghost witches?
