Chapter 48
Forty-Eight
CARINA
“Divination is another kind of magick, though unpopular amongst modern covens,” Sloane explains like there isn’t a man chained up two feet away. “It’s considered Dark now, simply for its history.”
If it weren’t for his back rising and falling with his breaths, I’d believe him to be dead.
He’s seated on the floor, bent in half at the waist, his head so low it nearly touches the dirty stone while hiding his features.
His skin is caked in as much dirt as the walls we walked past to get here, and the enchanted manacles around his wrists are tight enough to restrict movement.
No matter who he is, why he’s here, or if he’s done anything to Sloane, the enslavement of this warlock sends my magick—both water and Dark—rising to the top.
Sloane spent the entire trip down to this monstrosity of a scene trying to convince me Darkness isn’t evil. She said different kinds of magick are no different than elemental magick—and that they don’t harm in the way we believe black magick does.
But this isn’t anything of what she’s described. She’s a liar, plain and simple.
“You’re a monster.”
Although I expect her barrier of invisible magick to ripple and push me back, my feet move on instinct to free him—to show him someone cares about his life—but the expected spell prevents it.
Making a show of proving she’s able to pass through, she steps past the barrier and stands beside the warlock who shows no sign of being aware of his guest. “As I was saying, divination exists by work of a select few and rare witches.”
“Seers.” That much I recall from the teachings.
Seers in the witch community were rare—are rare—because they’ve yet to be extinguished, despite the vampires’ attempts.
Late in the twentieth century, they mass-hunted any known Seers, fearing that kind of magick would be harmful to their survival.
It was simply one more point to the ongoing battles between vampires and witches that have been ever-existing.
They nearly succeeded, leaving only a few throughout the world, and those who remain went into hiding either as loners or are hidden by their covens.
With the Seers practically gone and the twenty-first century’s rise of technology, witches stopped relying on divination. It’s become a practice dying out as each Seer passes to Summerland.
My stomach sinks deeper into the ground as I glance between them, putting her explanation of divination into reason. “Wait. He’s a Seer?”
“One of only ten remaining worldwide, yes. One who specifically came to me about two decades ago with a prophecy.”
Twenty years ago. That’d make this guy…old, though he doesn’t appear much older than me.
“He came to you for help, and you locked him up?”
“This is for his safety.” She pets his dirt-crusted hair, letting me know once again that the warlock is—unfortunately—alive when he visibly quivers beneath her touch. The thought of what he’s been surviving through fills my throat with bile.
It’s official. I need to get home, if only to tell Mom about this captive, so he can be helped.
“Come.” She stretches a hand towards me, through her barrier. “Take my hand and let me bring you in here.”
“Why?”
“You wish to know how I’m aware of the future.”
While I hate feeling like I’m using the Seer in such a way, I did come to learn all I could, so I take her hand. She pulls me through her shield, and even with two witches now standing over him, he still doesn’t move.
Sloane brings our entwined grip closer to his bent head, to the hair that is in severe need of washing; I can’t figure out if he’s blond or dark-haired.
Skin meets his head, and with a speed and pressure that jolt not only through my mind but through my body, I’m shoved into a series of images.
They flash too quickly to allow me to fully consider each one.
—White feathered wings, then dark bat-like ones—
—Fiery depths of Hell—
—Bright skies of Heaven—
—A child playing in a pile of leaves—
—A girl crying on her bed—
—A teenager at graduation—
—A woman kissing a man—
—All the same person—
—All with a nearby black presence—
—Darkness. The ultimate Dark being—
—The Devil—
—Hell—
—An altar —
—Blood —
—Binding—
—The Dark presence wrapped around the woman—
—His wings. A tail. Horns—
—Fire—
—She’s smiling at him—
—In love—
—A black void—
—She’s in a cell—
—He’s scouring Earth—
—White wings—
—Fire ignites—
—Air thickens—
—Waters dry—
—Earth crumbles—
—Mortals die—
—Apocalyptic—
—The Devil is searching for his bride—
The visions snap, and a force hurls our joined hands off his head and throws us a few feet away. Still, the Seer doesn’t move. Sloane does, though, pacing a couple steps backwards for the door. If she’s assuming I’ll follow, my limbs refuse to.
It’s all true…
Even when Freya confirmed it after Harlow’s rescue, a part of me couldn’t understand why and how. There will be war between Heaven and Hell when the Devil’s bride gets stolen from him. He literally overturns Earth searching for her.
“Now you see.”
I see…but Sloane’s way isn’t the only way. Darkness isn’t the answer, especially when it’s Darkness that’ll create this fight.
“And where was Hecate in all that?”
“Where were the Otherworldly creatures?” I counter, finally dragging my attention away from the Seer. “The visions were nothing more than flashes—a gleaming. There’s a lot of information being kept from us. The war is clearly between the Celestials, and mortals pay the price.”
“Earth pays the price, which is where we live, sweet girl.”
I straighten, pushing to my full height. “We don’t know the future, not to that extent. Something may happen beforehand. Hecate might—”
“Hecate will abandon us!” Black smoke fills the doorway—Darkness reacting to her emotions. I flinch away and closer to the Seer, coming to stand in front of him to protect. “What about this do you not understand?”
“Black magick is not the way.” I stab a finger at the Seer’s cuffs. “This is not the way.”
“He came to me for assistance when the visions were driving him mad.”
“That’s your defence? Hardly think this is what he wanted.”
“He must be protected. The visions were making it difficult on him.”
“So offer him the room I woke up in! Not…” My eyes scan the dank and dark cell with disgust, lips pulling up at the scent. “Not this.”
Again, she shrugs, but this time turns away. “Follow, so we may continue speaking.”
Alone with the Seer, I make him a silent vow he won’t hear. We’ll get you out. I’ll make sure someone knows you’re here.
By the door, I glance back, still uncertain I haven’t made the last five minutes up. That there’s an honest to Goddess Seer present.
The most piercing purple eyes stare back.