Chapter Four
Svassissimo Nepo Divana
Daphne had never been kissed in her sleep before. She’d always imagined it would be a jarring experience.
And so, when she opened her eyes to find a face hovering over hers, her first reaction had been to panic. Unfortunately, in her panic, she jerked up from the bed, closing the distance between them. Her forehead bumped against his.
His lips brushed hers only for a second, but it sent a shiver racing through her body.
What the—?
Thank goodness she still had her presence of mind. Her self-preservation instincts kicked in automatically. Thinking quickly, she bent her leg at the knee and drove it upward and was rewarded with a deep grunt of agony. The man rolled off her immediately and hit the floor amidst a plethora of curses.
“Damn witch!” he spat.
Daphne blinked, sweeping her gaze around. Her apartment was gone. She was back in the cabin, back on Frost Mountain.
Her mind was racing with agitation, but she remained as she was, drawing deep breaths as she took in the details. She’d been in her apartment a moment ago, having just turned off the TV. Now, she was on Frost Mountain, in her captor’s cabin, with the storm raging outside. Somehow, she was moving between two worlds. She was quite certain now that she wasn’t dreaming or imagining any of this. Dread settled in her chest, making it grow heavier by the second.
She got to her feet, her eyes locked on the door, but she had barely taken a step forward when she heard her captor say, “Don’t bother. Neither of us is getting out of here.”
She froze, turning to face him as he pulled himself upright, one hand clutching his groin where she’d kneed him. “What are you talking about?”
His handsome features twisted in a smirk. “We’ve been snowed in. The entire cabin is walled in on all sides. The snow has been rising for days, and now… we’re trapped in here.” His smirk widened as though he meant to say, You’re trapped in here with me.
What the heck had he been doing on top of her? His face had been dangerously close to hers. And, oh, crap, she’d accidentally kissed him. She supposed the fact that she’d brushed lips with a man who’d tried to kill her should disgust or at least annoy her. So why did the thought of it fill her with a slight ache?
It didn’t help that he was regarding her with those dark, fiery eyes of his again. It was strange. She was supposed to be terrified of him, especially after he’d tried to behead her. At the very least, she should despise him. She did despise him. But her body was responding to him in ways that suggested the exact opposite.
Still clutching his groin, her captor turned and exited the room, returning seconds later with what looked like a bowl filled with steaming food.
“Fortunately for me,” he said, “I always make sure I have supplies.” He handed the bowl to her. “Here. You must be hungry.”
Daphne frowned at the bowl, then at him, and folded her arms across her chest. “Why would I want to eat that? It’s probably—”
“Poisoned?” He rolled his eyes. “If I wanted you dead, you would be a corpse already, not that it isn’t what I’d like anyway.”
He thrust the plate toward her again. “Besides, I’ve been feeding you for over a week. You drool when you sleep sometimes.”
Something he said struck her suddenly. “Wait a minute. Did you say… a week?”
He nodded. “You have been slipping in and out of unconsciousness for days.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“You’ve only been conscious enough to eat. You’ve been mostly out the whole time.”
“So why do I feel so damn weak?” she wondered aloud.
“Because I bound you.” He pointed to the insignia on her hand.
“No, this is different.” This wasn’t about losing her magic. Even moving seemed to require more energy than she was used to. Something wasn’t quite right, and she suspected it had to do with the fact that she was somehow traveling back and forth between Earth and Frost Mountain.
How am I supposed to fix the Frost Mountain problem if I don’t even know what the heck is going on?
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” she asked.
Her captor set down the bowl next to the bed. “That is unimportant.”
“Well, you tried to kill me,” she pointed out. “I’d say that’s pretty important.
His lips twitched in amusement. “If you say so. I’m August Kane.”
Kane. That explained the K on her hand. It wasn’t just a magical bind. He’d branded her like livestock.
“You’re a witch hunter,” she guessed. When his brows rose, she raised her hand. “It’s why you tried to kill me. It's why you bound my magic. Only a witch hunter would know to do that.”
His jaw twitched, telling her she was correct.
“Well, witch hunter, I’m Daphne,” she told him. “Daphne Emerson.”
His eyes narrowed for a second. “That name… it sounds familiar.”
Daphne had a feeling she knew why, but she decided not to mention it. “We’ve got bigger concerns. I’m stuck in here with you.”
August’s eyes blazed with anger all of a sudden, causing her to take a step back in surprise.
“The blizzard out there is because of you ,” he snarled. “You’re responsible for the storm that’s been raging for days now.”
Those dark eyes glinted with resentment. Daphne gulped. “I… I didn’t know this would happen. I just wanted to get free.”
“And look what’s happened because of that.”
She bit her lip. “Look, I can fix it. I’ll reverse the spell. All you have to do is unbind my magic and—”
He cut her off with a burst of laughter that reverberated through the room. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I trust you, a witch? You already created the storm. If I unbind you, you’ll end up doing something worse. Do you now see why your kind needs to be stopped? You cause problems wherever you go. Death and destruction follow you.”
At his words, anger filled her chest and clogged her throat. He spoke as though all witches were evil and as if she hadn’t come to Frost Mountain with hopes of repairing the damage that had been done centuries ago.
Then again, he wasn’t exactly wrong either, was he? Despite her intentions, she’d ended up creating a storm that now had them trapped in a cabin. And what about Flight 18? The plane that had come apart in midair…
“Wait,” she muttered.
A thought had just occurred to her. When she awoke in her apartment, it had been a day after the plane crashed. According to August, a week had already passed here on Frost Mountain. That didn’t make sense. Unless… she’d somehow traveled through time.
No, that couldn’t be right. Could it? Or could it be…?
I’ve been feeding you for over a week, August had told her.
“I’m not traveling between the worlds,” she whispered. “I’m in both of them at the same time.”
“What are you talking about?” August wanted to know.
“It explains everything,” she went on. “The weakness. Something went very wrong when I cast that spell.”
There was only one way to confirm her theory. She looked him in the eye. “I need you to knock me out again.”
August regarded her for a moment, and she felt heat wash over her body.
“No.”
She blinked. “Why not?”
“You likely already have a concussion from when I knocked you out before,” he told her. “If I strike you again…”
“What?” It was her turn to smirk. “You’re afraid you’ll end up killing me?”
He scoffed. “If I did, I couldn’t care less. If you want to be knocked out so badly, then I have something for you.”
With that, he disappeared from the room. He came back a few moments later, bearing a bowl smaller than the first.
“What is that?” she demanded.
“It’s not poison,” he replied irritably. “It’s a potion.”
“A potion?”
“I’m a witch hunter.”
“Of course. It comes with the territory.”
He handed it to her. “Drink. It will help you sleep. You should probably lie down first.”
“You say it like it’ll knock me out immediately if I drink it.”
He said nothing.
She took the potion from him, tipped the bowl and drank. She swallowed and handed the bowl back to him.
“Are you sure this is going to knock me out?” she asked with another scoff. “It doesn’t feel like—”
***
She blinked.
The television screen was still blank and dark. She still sat on the floor as she’d been moments ago. Was it minutes? Seconds? Barely any time had passed, it seemed. She was right. By the time she opened her eyes on Frost Mountain again, another week might have passed.
I can’t believe you, Daphne, she told herself, rising to her feet. Now you’ve got not one world but two to worry about.
From what she’d garnered so far, Earth was slowly descending into a cesspool of chaos. A plane suddenly disappearing was no small matter, and the reactions were nothing short of foreboding. This wasn’t the first time the United States had faced a security problem so dire. The chaos that had ensued when the Twin Towers were hit in 2001…
What if this turned out to be worse?
She needed answers and more information. Right now, there was something she needed to do.
Making a beeline for her bed, Daphne sat down and picked up the Book of Nyx from the nightstand, prying the grimoire open in her lap. It was the same copy she’d had with her on the plane. How it was still here, she had no idea, but that was one answer she didn’t particularly care about.
“Where is it?” she asked herself as she flipped through the pages with trembling fingers, pausing once she reached a spell that looked familiar. “There you are.” She traced the page with her finger until she found the spell she was looking for.
Svassissimo nepo diovina. Open the void. The portal spell.
It was the spell she’d used. Or, at least, the one she was supposed to have used. Done correctly, it should have taken her through a portal to Frost Mountain. She had reached the mountain, but her presence here on Earth made no sense. She was in two worlds at the same time. That wasn’t how portals worked, which could only mean one thing: She’d performed the wrong spell.
Her eyes followed her finger up the page, and she sucked in a breath. Just above the spell for the portal was another: Svassissimo nepo divana.
Make partial, she translated automatically.
If she hadn’t been sitting, the grimoire would have fallen to the floor. She held her breath as she continued to read. It was a spell that enabled one to split oneself into two halves, allowing for one to exist in two places at once. The consciousness of whoever cast the spell traveled back and forth between bodies.
What seemed like a pretty useful spell, in Daphne’s case, was a nightmare.
Svassissimo nepo divana .
She’d inadvertently split herself in two. If she was guessing correctly, the split had already occurred by the time the plane breached the portal. And the part of her that was on the plane had gone through it, along with everyone else aboard Flight 18.
Damnit, she thought. She’d never created that portal. It had been purely coincidental.
She drew a breath and let it out slowly.
“There has to be a way to fix this,” she muttered to herself. “There’s got to be instructions on reversing the spell here—”
She was interrupted by the wail of sirens. Fear slammed into her, and she shot to her feet, the Book of Nyx falling to the floor.
Were those ambulances?
Cops, she thought as she rushed to the nearest window and poked her head out to gaze down at the street below.
She was wrong on both counts.
From three stories up, she had a pretty good view of her street and the next. There was rarely any traffic. But it was the vehicles pulling up right in front of her apartment building that caught Daphne’s eye. Half a dozen sleek, black SUVs screeched to a halt outside her building, blocking the road. They weren’t cop cars or ambulances. As she and a few bystanders on the street watched, the doors opened, and several men hopped out, some wearing suits, others in tactical gear. All were armed and spread out to surround the building.
Oh, fuck me.