Chapter 21
Lochan
I trail Laria through the winding halls of Grimstone, my footsteps silent against the floor. The vamp thinks she's alone, but I'm right on her heels.
She turns a corner down a deserted corridor, and I make my move. In three quick strides, I'm on her, slamming her against the wall. My forearm presses against her throat, not enough to choke, but enough to let her know I mean business.
Laria's eyes widen for a split second before that smug mask slips back into place. "Oh Lochan, I didn't know you cared."
I press harder. "I don't give a shit about your petty drama, but if I ever see you pull that kind of stunt again, you'll regret it."
She laughs, but it's thin, brittle. "Are you threatening me? Over that pathetic little human?"
"I'm warning you," I say, my voice controlled. "Stay the fuck away from her."
For a moment, fear flashes in Laria's eyes. But then she recovers, leaning in close despite my grip. "Or what?" she breathes. "What will you do to me, Lochan?"
I release her abruptly, stepping back. My skin crawls at her proximity, at the insinuation in her voice. Fucking vampires.
"Just stay away," I repeat, turning to leave. "Or you'll find out. And trust me, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
Laria's eyes narrow, her pale gaze burning with resentment as she backs away. "You're making a mistake, Lochan. That girl is nothing but trouble."
I don't dignify her bullshit with a response. My jaw clenches as I stalk off, leaving her seething in the shadows. Fuck. Why am I even getting involved in this mess? The shadow witch has me defending her.
I need space. Air. Somewhere to clear my head.
My feet carry me to the abandoned east wing, dusty and deserted. My footstep echo in the emptiness. It's quiet here. Peaceful. No drama, no politics, no fucking shadow magic.
But as I reach the end of the corridor, memories ambush me. The acrid stench of smoke. Screaming. Slithering, suffocating blackness. And then no more screams.
I stop and lean against the wall, my breath coming in sharp gasps. Raven King loyalists, their eyes alight with fanatical fervor as they took everyone I've ever loved.
My mother's face, frozen in a silent scream. My father. My little sister...
"Fuck!" I slam my fist into the wall, relishing the sharp burst of pain. It grounds me, drags me back to the present.
I slide down to the floor, head in my hands. This is why I can't trust her. Can't trust anyone who wields that cursed magic. It only brings death and destruction.
I see Brigid's face in my mind. Her eyes when she searched for anyone to be on her side when Laria attacked her. The shadows flickering at her fingertips, barely noticeable. But I noticed.
She's dangerous. A liability. Callen, Rory and Tiernan should stay the hell away from her. I should stay the away from her.
So why can't I stop thinking about her?
A whisper cuts through my spiraling thoughts. I freeze, every muscle tensing. No one comes here except me. Ever.
There. Again. Hushed voices, drifting from around the corner.
I rise silently; the voices grow clearer as they get closer.
“... the girl..." I recognize Dean Charling's clipped tones. "...convergence... shadow magic... key to everything."
My blood turns to ice. There's only one "girl" with shadow magic at Grimstone.
A woman's voice responds, unfamiliar to me. "But the prophecy... The Morrigan... are you certain?"
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Dean Charling's voice drops even lower, forcing me to strain to hear his words. "...it’s time... the plan..."
What the hell are they talking about? What does Brigid have to do with The Morrigan, a goddess long since gone?
The voices fade as they move away. I stand frozen, mind reeling.
It doesn't make sense. Why were they talking about Brigid?
And The Morrigan?
The Morrigan . The original witch. Goddess of war and fate. Mother of destruction and chaos.
And consort of the Raven King.
It can't be a coincidence. Not with everything else that's happened.
I remember the mass that Callen and I battled the night we were sent to collect Brigid. A Sangrathen, drawn to magic called forth by blood sacrifice. My surprise when I realized that Brigid had shadow magic. The conversation I had later with Dean Charling. He’d reassured me that Brigid was unaware of her newly awakened powers. But he’d never said what had awakened them.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. No. I can't jump to conclusions. But I can't ignore this either. A blood prophecy?
The air around me feels heavy, oppressive. Like the very walls of Grimstone are closing in, hiding secrets I'm not meant to uncover.
I push off the wall. I need to figure this out. I need to protect the others. The thought of getting closer to Brigid makes my skin crawl, but I clench my jaw. I'll do whatever it takes. I won't let anyone else die because I wasn't strong enough, wasn't vigilant enough.
As I step out of the shadows, a sense of foreboding settles over me like a shroud.