The shifters fought on, unaware of the storm growing above them. Unaware even that Nastia had killed one to draw the darkness to her.
“Five hundred and eight. Five hundred and eight,” Nastia murmured strangely, her voice picking up to be heard over the roar of the swirling cloud above her. “We must circle now, and cast the spell. Quick, before I’m overtaken. Draw from my darkness but filter it through your light. Your two to my one, this will work. Once the spell is cast and Ouachita is safe, you lock me away so I can’t hurt anyone. And then you—five hundred and eight, five hundred and eight—find my anchor. If anything can bring me back from darkness, it will be my anchor. If you cannot find it…”
“We will,” Adira screamed over the wailing wind. “I swear it, we will, sister.”
Mirena nodded her agreement, concern stretching her face into a grimace as she eyed the storm above them.
Forming a circle, the three pressed their palms together, letting their energies combine. But it didn’t feel comforting like it usually did. Nastia’s inky power bled over their light just like the dark night sky bled over the stars. There was plenty of power for the #binding spell. And like the sky, more dark than light.
Be the light in the night, the right in the fright.
Always more dark than light. It was just as Adira thought, more power belonged to the darkness. No wonder so many Sorcera couldn’t resist it without an anchor. Power was a seductive beast.
But maybe it wasn’t so bad if you used evil for good intents.
Heed this: give as much as you take, lest the darkness be your fate.
As the three began chanting the incantation, Adira hoped they would somehow be able to resist the pull of the darkness.
Let us not be lost, she prayed to the mystics, hoping they could still hear her though her light had gone murky. Let us not be lost.
Chapter Twelve
Gash’s cat circled Felix just waiting for the moment he shifted. The second Bailey was out of his grasp, Gash was going to shred him to tiny pieces.
Destroy him. Destroy threat to mine and young.
He twitched, his hackles raising along his spine. His Bailey had a young growing inside her. One he’d put there with love. He hadn’t meant to, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it with every fiber of his being.
Mason’s words about Magic came back to him…
How much harder do you think he will fight, if it means keeping his mate and young safe?
Gash could answer that question now with certainty. In fact, it focused every random thought and worry into a single, pinpoint of clarity.
He’d fight until every foe was defeated. It would never be like his nightmare. He’d tear them all down, one by one, until his family was safe. And if it cost him every drop of blood, every breath of oxygen… it wouldn’t be too much. Because nothing was too much when it came to protecting his mate and young.
Felix continued to duck Bailey’s hits while still guarding his back against Gash’s impending attack. But he couldn’t maintain his position for long. Not with the storm whipping the wind into a frenzy, and the cats falling away at Ouachita’s attack.
The entire clan was fighting for Bailey. Fighting hard to keep his mate and young safe, and it reaffirmed that Gash was in just the right place. He owed them a life. Owed them everything.
Felix’s gaze darted around the clearing, measuring his time, a wicked gleam in his eye. He’d have to shift soon. He couldn’t battle two angry cats without his own doing the fighting. Gash would take him now, but the claws in Bailey’s neck were Felix’s leverage. Couldn’t risk an injury like that. Their bond couldn’t heal something that mortal, and even if it could, it would endanger their baby. He wouldn’t chance it.
All he could do was wait… wait…
The violent roar of a bear ripped through the clearing, bringing a millisecond stop to the fighting before it all picked back up. Thames. A panther had pounced on him, and was ripping his back to ribbons. Theron lumbered forward, rearing up on his hind legs to help his brother, when suddenly, the cat went limp, falling to the ground in a lifeless heap of sable fur.
A bark of thunder was the only warning before the clouds above began swirling over the marker indicating the spot where the witches stood.
Something was happening. His cat could sense the power in the air that could only be caused by magic. It was so close to nighttime that the sun was already gone. But the witches said they needed stars and he couldn’t see a single one.
His cat crouched low, bunching his hind legs tight, readying to attack. All he needed was a split second distraction, and if his hunch was right the witches were about to give him that.