Dark Mist (Black Magick #2)

First Intermission

FREYA

Heyo! Howdy? What’s the preferred greeting nowadays?

It’s only been a matter of days since we last spoke, but since I enjoy hearing myself talk, I’ll recap the past few weeks—which involve the lovely Harlow Sinclair and her cranky vampire mate, Alec Dormer—His Majesty. (He’d be so proud of me remembering his proper title isn’t Asshole.)

Skipping to the present: vampires attacked Harlow’s house.

Her parents told her to run, but she then returned to save them.

Miss Powerful exploded—literally—and accidentally set fire to her own house, killing her parents in the process.

Cue grief, depression, the loss of her powers, and Darkness clinging after the murder of her parents, though she didn’t know realize at the time.

Oh, and hearing Alec’s voice in her head, when they hadn’t met yet.

Alec, for all his fucked-up reasons I’ll skip recounting because they make my head thump, was murdering Sinclairs over the centuries, but would always leave one alive to ensure the bloodline continued. With Harlow, he opted to kidnap her, drain her, and sell the cure to his brethren.

Quite the businessman, I must say.

Since Harlow didn’t have her powers, the cure wasn’t effective. Alec was working to restore her magick, while Harlow was working to get free. She managed to by breaking her bedroom window and scaling down the side of his castle.

Cue angry vampire who went hunting, sexy bloody times, and discovering she’s his Bride—a vampire’s mate. Cute in a strange way, but also funny since instincts had him caring rather than wanting to harm her. All his planning was gone!

Then Harlow found a box of items detailing her parents’ lies, learning they were imposters who kidnapped her from Highridge Coven when she was eight, murdered the real Sinclairs, and raised her as their own. Harlow, in a surge of anger, regained her fire magick.

Can we note Harlow and Alec being mates is ironic? Fire, the element of the Sinclairs kills vampires, but alright.

With her elemental magick, Darkness also took hold. When she escaped Alec’s castle and was found by Highridge’s current High Priestess, Morgan, she brought Harlow home to Banff. Alec, being the stalker he is, followed.

The two became friendly-ish and fell in love.

She learned about her penance for black magick.

He accepted her. She later accepted him and drank his blood.

Got kidnapped again by her imposter parents, who were not dead after all.

She called on all her powers, killed them and herself in a cave-in, and began transitioning to a vampire.

Was then found by Alec’s long-time friend, who wasn’t at all supportive of their relationship.

Mateship? Alec showed up and saved the day.

Actually, not really. He did his sexy fighting thing, while Harlow drank blood, finished transitioning, and killed the asshole.

Now, she lives with Alec in his castle as a witch-vampire hybrid. And Alec is still the reigning asshole of the lands.

Like my twist on the words?

If all that confused you, might I recommend returning to their story because the details are simply too much for me to get into. Besides, though Alec is a broody, moody, deadly creature, their story is actually pretty interesting. Plus, I make quite a few appearances in it, so…yeah.

Anyway, the two are now living happily ever after for now, until the war everyone seems to be preparing for happens.

(Cue dramatic music.)

See, long before Harlow and Alec, this has all been in play. Hecate, the Goddess of magick and witchcraft, revealed that four different pairings of Otherworldly creatures would affect this war.

The coven Harlow’s imposter parents were sent from are working to prepare for a war amongst the Celestials between Heaven and Hell.

When? Don’t ask me. I just work here.

With the first pairing living in bloody bliss, it’s time to return to Banff, to the base of the mountains where a wolf shifter pack resides.

Like our first ever meeting, before Harlow and Alec began their dramatic journey, there’s some important background information that will be best delivered from a third-person perspective because it’s not my story, so stick with me over this coming perspective shift. It’s short-lived, don’t worry.

One piece of history, occurring twenty-four years ago, nearly to the day.

The woman—the witch—limps up the side street of the quiet town of Banff and towards the house she knows to be the High Priestess’s. Her body is bloodied and battered, her arm clutching her three-week-old newborn daughter close to her chest.

Her magick barely holds her together both physically and emotionally, fading with every step after the attack she narrowly escaped. Soon, it’ll die alongside the woman. She’s aware she doesn’t have long, nor does she need it. Just a moment more, long enough to reach the house up the street.

Her daughter, Carina, cries out as she turns her sleepy face into her chest, probably hunting for milk.

“Shh, we’re almost there. A couple more moments and you’ll be safe.”

The baby quiets, as if comprehending, and with the final dredges of strength, she quickens her pace up to the small porch and front door, where her voice barely rises above pained gasps.

“Help, please!”

Her head falls against the wood door, exhaustion dragging her knocking fist down to her side, and the door opens to Highridge’s High Priestess filling the doorway, dressed in a robe.

The witch nearly falls through the door as the last of her strength officially gives out, aware all will be okay, that her daughter will be safe. She shoves the baby towards the High Priestess before crumpling against the doorframe.

When Carina cries, the High Priestess tucks her close to provide comfort, which brings more tears to the dying witch’s eyes—both in joy and sadness. Sadness she is no longer able to sooth Carina the way she should, but joy someone else will.

With Carina tight to the woman’s chest, the High Priestess drops to her knees beside the dying witch and casts a spell to examine the true extent of her injuries. “What happened?”

The bloodied and broken witch’s waning energy is feeble, but she manages to block the incoming healing spells that will only drag the pain out for longer. “D-don’t. I’m…already dead. Keep her safe. Carina…her name.”

The High Priestess glances from the baby to her mother, her expression panicked and dismayed. “What’s your name? What happened?”

She can’t answer. Time isn’t on her side. Now that Carina is safe, Summerland—the witch’s afterlife in the Otherworld—is calling. She’ll be able to sing and dance in Hecate’s fields and watch Carina grow from the other side.

“Carina. Love her…as your own. Please. Tell her I…”

The witch’s eyes slide shut, and the High Priestess reaches for her arm, a spell lighting up her hand. Panic seeps into her tone, but she also doesn’t want to stress the newborn. “Tell her what? What is your name?”

“Cov…Silver Seas.”

“Coven of the Silver Seas,” the High Priestess fills in, gasping with the realization of how far this witch must have travelled to get here. “That’s where you’re from?”

The witch blinks her response, tightening her eyes for what’ll be the final time.

“Protect her…love her.” Her breath shudders again, her eyes opening for an unexpected final time, only to gaze at her baby daughter. “I…love…”

The witch dies beneath the moonlight, her newborn daughter crying over her deceased body, and the High Priestess stroking her hair as her soul exits this body and moves on.

“Rest now, sister. Your daughter will be cared for. Go forth to Hecate and Blessed Be.”

Me again.

Fuck, that gets me every time.

You might be wondering about the relevance in all that or what led her to being injured and escaping to Banff, but eventually it’ll all make sense.

For now, let’s check in on our upcoming chaos and visit a wolf shifter who’s about to get his ass handed to him by a witch.

Maybe now’s the time to finish their theme song I started a couple days ago.

Carina and the wolf, sitting in a tree…