The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(10)

Lizbeth leaned forward, but because of the fog she couldn't see what they'd hit.

"Well, now, it appears that we have arrived."

She stared at him.

"Arrived where?"

"The Red Chapel," he said, his eyes trained on something just over her shoulder.

She turned, following his gaze, and a long sloping beach made of bloodred stones seemed to magically appear out of the fog. The beach led to a rectangular patch of green grass upon which sat a tiny redwood cabin. As more of the fog lifted, it became clear to Lizbeth that this was the extent of the island: one little building on one little piece of land set adrift in the middle of an endless sea.

"We'll be safe here. For a little while, at least," Tem said as he hopped out of the boat. He offered her his hand, and she felt a small shock of electricity pass between them as their fingers touched. He blinked but seemed unsurprised by the intensity of the connection. 

"Oh . . . okay then . . ." she murmured, blushing for what felt like the thousandth time in his presence. It was hard not to have a crush on him. He was so handsome and kind, charming and funny. He was anything and everything she would've wanted in a man . . . except for one niggling little detail.

He was dead.

"Don't look so maudlin, half-caste," he said, his voice a purr as he grabbed her other hand and swung her out of the boat.

He made her feel like a delicate flower (even though she knew she was really a gangling beanpole) by lifting her into the air and setting her down on the red stone beach as if she weighed absolutely nothing at all. The pebbles felt warm underneath her toes, smooth and round.

"Thank you," she said, lowering her eyes, not able to meet his gaze. She may have been safely on dry land, but she felt anything but safe when Tem was nearby.

"My pleasure." He gave her a low bow and she laughed at the courtliness of the gesture.

He was such a mix of things. Chivalrous and strong, on one hand, but also silly and awkward, too. Handsome, but all gawky elbows and knees. She liked that he was such a hodgepodge of disparate things, liked that the first time she'd met him he'd appeared to her in the guise of a dragon, all fierce and wise.

He really was a magician, really could manipulate the fabric of the dreamlands-like calling up the boat or the umbrella-and she found herself wishing that she could do the same.

"You can and you will," he said, reading her mind.

This was something they'd been able to do from the moment they'd met. A damaged childhood spent in an institution had rendered Lizbeth mute, and so he'd communicated with her telepathically. It had been unsettling at first, but after a while she'd grown used to it-though she'd been unable to stop herself from thinking inappropriate things about him. Like how cute she thought he was.

Now it was his turn to blush.

"Sorry about that," she said.

"You're just stating a truth, half-caste. I am very cute," he replied, taking her hand and leading her up the slope of the beach.

He called her "half-caste" because he said all Dream Keepers were part human and part his universe. That was why they could travel to the dreamlands and talk to Dream Walkers. It was what set them apart from the rest of their coven blood sisters and made them rare. So rare Lizbeth was the first to be born in almost fifty years-an important secret that had been closely guarded by her fellow witches in the Echo Park coven. They'd done well in protecting her from The Flood, who wanted nothing more than to capture her for her power, harnessing it to further their own ends-which included wiping the witches off the face of the Earth. But Lizbeth knew there was even more to it than that. Once they'd used her powers up, they'd destroy her. There would be no stay of execution.

It all sounded ridiculous when she thought about it, so melodramatic, but it was the truth. And it was why she was here, in the dreamlands, with Tem, safe for now-but who knew how long that would last.

"Mind your step."

He trod upon the beach, his long legs gracefully finding them a path through the stony shore. The fog was mostly gone now and the night began to recede with it. Still, Lizbeth wasn't sure if the sun had risen because a hazy sheen of clouds covered the sky, blocking her view of the sun and hiding the landscape in deep shadow. She turned back, expecting to see the dinghy at the edge of the beach, calmly waiting for their return, but it was gone. For some reason unknown to her, they were to stay here on this strange island in the middle of nowhere. At least until Tem magicked up a helicopter or something else ridiculous to help them leave.