32. Aurora
Aurora
M y thoughts were torn in two as I ran back to where Amara lay, surrounded by our closest family. Lyra kneeled at her side while Willow pressed against the gaping wound in her neck. Silence hung in the air. Not even the sounds of the night insects could be heard.
“Mama, you have to,” Lyra cried, her voice shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Amara winced as she shook her head. “I won’t. I can’t.” Her throat rattled as she struggled to fill her lungs.
My breath caught in my chest. This couldn’t be happening. I took a small step forward, shock making my fingers numb.
“Mama, please,” Lyra begged. She was no longer the hard and unfeeling woman who stood between Mac and me, but a child full of fear.
Evangeline rushed to my side, placing her hand in the center of my back, urging me forward. “Quickly, go to her.”
I closed the gap between Amara and myself and fell to my knees at her side, sinking to the ground the way my heart sank in my chest. My fingers trembled as I took her free hand in mine. She looked so small, her power seeming to have drained from her. She turned her face toward mine. Her voice was weak and raspy as she spoke. “Aurora…”
I glanced at Lyra. Her tears shimmered in the candlelight. Her voice was pleading, her hatred momentarily forgotten. “She won’t drink the blood.”
I shook my head, struggling to process her words. “What do you mean?”
My mouth fell open as I spotted the cloth in Willow’s hands. Amara’s blood coated both the fabric and Willow’s fingers. My breath shuddered as I attempted to draw in oxygen. There was no time—an ambulance wouldn’t make it here in time. The only way to save Amara was for her to drink the blood we’d taken from Mac, the blood we’d used to complete the spell.
The cleansing air flowed in through my lips, expanding my chest and steeling my resolve. “Amara, you have to drink,” I begged, my voice cracking, betraying my fears as I tightened my grip on her hand. “I’ve already lost one mother. I can’t lose you too.”
She looked at me, her eyes hazy, and shook her head. “No. All is as it should be.”
Lyra sobbed. “You are supposed to be here to see my children, my family.”
My heart broke into smaller pieces. I struggled to breathe through the weight collapsing my chest.
Amara coughed, her voice growing weaker. “I will still see your family. I will always watch over you.”
“But not like this, Mama. I need you here. You have to be here with me.” She smoothed a hair behind Amara’s ear.
My heart clenched with pain at Lyra’s words. I wanted to break down, to let my grief spill over, but I couldn’t. I had to be the one to hold it together.
Amara’s gaze shifted back to me, her voice little more than a breath. “Child.” Her chest heaved as her breathing faltered. Her fingers trembled as she tried to squeeze my hand, the weakness in her grip sending a chill through me. “You found your path and guided your coven. Take your place.”
My mind reeled, refusing to comprehend, disbelief crashing over me. I could no longer fight the tears streaming down my face. “But my training…”
A wisp of a smile came to her lips. “Is completed. You are no longer the heir. Follow your heart, and you’ll finish this. Finish what was started.”
No longer the heir? “Auntie… no...” I leaned over her, my tears falling onto her hand. My body trembled as I silently prayed they would give her strength, bargaining with the goddess to allow me to take her place, knowing nothing more could be done unless she asked for Mac’s blood.
She looked around at the gathered witches, straining to even whisper. “My daughters…”
The other women of the coven kneeled around her, tears streaming down their faces.
“Mama, please don’t leave me.” Lyra’s voice cracked with desperation.
Amara looked at Lyra, her eyes flickering with love and tears. “I will never be far. You’ll always be able to find me. You will always be my daughter.”
My throat tightened, squeezing away a scream. This couldn’t be happening. Amara was to be here, to grow old and guide me into my position with her beside me. I couldn’t breathe; my chest refused to take in air as my aunt’s face grew more pale.
With a final rasping breath, Amara’s chest rose and fell, and then her muscles relaxed. Her eyes gazed upward, but they no longer saw. Calls of barred owls and whippoorwills filled the cool night air. A coyote howled its mournful cry somewhere in the distance as the candlelight replaced the natural flame in Amara’s green eyes.
“Mama, no!” Lyra wailed. She rushed to the table, grabbing the map and holding it over Amara’s mouth, letting Mac’s blood drip onto her lips. But Amara could no longer swallow.
I watched, the feeling of my soul disconnected from my body washing through me. It was like I was standing on the outside as my cousin tried in vain to save my aunt. Her hand grew cold in mine, but somehow I didn’t notice the lack of warmth. I placed her hand over her pendant and sat back on my heels.
“Mama, no. Don’t leave me,” Lyra sobbed, collapsing onto her mother’s chest. Vampire blood—Mac’s blood—streamed out of Amara’s mouth, running down her neck and across the wound.
Evangeline reached out, her face contorted in pain, and closed Amara’s eyes.
My eyes darted across the clearing, the night air suffocating. I reached out, expecting and wanting to find Mac next to me until I remembered. My stomach reeled as though I had been punched, and my chest tightened. Oh goddess. Both of them were gone.
I stood and took a few steps before I collapsed to my knees, the contents of my stomach spilling onto the clearing. A sob wracked my body as Jade kneeled beside me.
“Rory, what do you want us to do?” she asked.
I shook my head. “What do you mean? What do I want you to do?”
“We need your guidance.”
I glanced around. The witches waited for me to speak, their eyes filled with expectation, except for Lyra, still crumpled in tears beside her mother’s lifeless body. And that’s when it truly hit me. Amara was gone. The guidance would now come from me.
A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed hard, forcing myself back together. I couldn’t afford to fall apart again. I took a shaky breath.
“Call the authorities. Tell them we found her here after an attack. We didn’t see what kind of animal it was.” My voice came out stronger than I felt because inside, I was unraveling.
Jade nodded without hesitation and hurried toward the barn to get her phone. Evangeline stayed close, gripping my hand as silent tears traced down my cheeks.
“What just happened?” I whispered, my voice breaking as I stared down at Amara. I gripped Evangeline’s hand. “I don’t understand. Why did she do this? Why did Amara choose this path?” The words trembled from my lips. My chest tightened painfully, a hollow ache spreading through me as I tried to reconcile the decision Amara had made.
Evangeline pulled my head to her shoulder. “It’s the path she felt she needed to take.”
Lyra’s sobs echoed through the night, gut-wrenching and raw, but I struggled to hear her over the pounding in my head.
“Why wouldn’t she drink?” I asked, my voice shaking with disbelief. Why would she choose death when the blood was right there?
Evangeline sighed as I lifted my head to find her gaze. Her eyes filled with quiet understanding. “I think she knew even before the spell.”
“Knew?” I stared at her, unable to grasp the enormity of it. “She knew?”
Evangeline nodded, her voice low. “Rory, this is who she was. I wouldn’t doubt that she knew this was her fate the moment she walked into the clearing tonight.”
A cold chill swept over me at Evangeline’s words. The finality of it struck me like a sharp, painful blow. Amara had known. She had chosen this. My stomach churned, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
In the distance, the faint wail of sirens cut through the night.
“We need to clear the area,” I said, forcing myself to focus. “Remove anything that looks like a ritual.”
Evangeline nodded, her gaze soft but steady. “I’ll see to it, High Priestess.” The title dealt yet another punch to the gut—so foreign and heavy. I flinched inwardly; the burden settled over me like a shroud.
Evangeline trotted to the center of the clearing, joined by Willow, as they gathered everything from the spell. I watched as Evangeline slid the knife used to cut Mac into her belt with caution, her eyes meeting mine in a silent question. I gave her a slight nod, allowing her to take it back to the house when it was safe. For now, everything was stuffed into the barn.
The sirens grew louder—closer. And as I stood there, watching my coven clean up the remnants of what had just happened, the reality settled in.
This would be the last time Aunt Amara left the plantation.