The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(102)

       
         
       
        

Dev tried to hide Marji and Ginny under one of the tables and had gotten a gunshot to the back for her trouble . . . the girls hadn't lived much longer after that. It was a holocaust . . . innocents killed because of what they were: blood sisters.

Eleanora's ability to affect the real world was very limited, and so she'd only been able to offer her blood sisters a little help. When it was all over, there were dead from both sides, but to Eleanora it was clear that The Flood had won this battle. Eleanora had watched them check for survivors, shooting anything that moved, and then they'd gone, so callous they'd even left their own dead behind. She didn't think they knew Desmond was gone, but she thought they'd discover it soon enough.

She was alone in the mess hall for a long time . . . and then a flash of neon blue had shot through the room and hope had flared to life once more in Eleanora's breast. She sensed that now was the time for her to make her move. She floated toward her granddaughter, gently placing her hand on Lyse's shoulder. It was like being plugged into an electric socket and she immediately felt more real.

"Eleanora," Lyse said, as her grandmother came to life out of the magical ether.

"I think I know where your journey starts, my dearest," Eleanora said. "And it's not in the dreamlands-"

"Take me with you," Niamh said, not wanting to be left out. "I can help you."

"I can't, Niamh," Lyse began, but Niamh cut her off.

"Please," Niamh begged. "I know that it's important for me to go with you. Please, Lyse."

"I think she should go with you. It was important to Thomas," Eleanora said-but she waited for Lyse to decide.

Finally, Lyse spoke: "I appreciate all that you've done, Niamh. You're alive and well and I don't want that to change . . . especially if I fail. But I won't tell you no. Though I can't guarantee your safety."

Niamh nodded.

"Of course. I understand."

Lyse turned to Eleanora.

"You said you would set us on the right path . . . ?"

"Yes," Eleanora said. "Go back to the house on Curran Street. Open the remaining Dream Journal . . . and it will take you where you need to go."

"I love you," Lyse said. "Thank you."

Eleanora smiled.

"I love you, too. So much more than you will ever know." 

And then Eleanora watched as her granddaughter, the person who had taught her what love was, enveloped herself and Niamh in a neon-blue orb and disappeared.





Lizbeth





Lizbeth had resigned herself to the fact that the dreamlands couldn't get enough of her. They were obsessed, mining her memories, and using them to clothe the landscape around them.

"They like you, pet," Tem said. "They're drawing spiritual blood from you."

She hadn't thought of it in those terms before, but it made sense. The dreamlands liked her magic, and they were siphoning off bits of it for themselves.

"Ew," Lisbeth said. "You make it sound like the dreamlands are a mosquito."

"And you must be tasty to them," Tem teased her. She smiled, liking when he flirted with her. It made her happy.

"Shall we?" she asked, pleased by the mode of transportation he'd rustled up for them.

She'd specified she wanted to fly, and he'd obliged her by calling up a giant hot-air balloon for them to travel inside. It was made of blue and green patchwork fabric, the basket a soft faun wicker that was smooth to the touch.

"Do you know how to operate one of these things?" she asked, and he grinned.

"Do I know how to operate one of these things?" he said, mimicking her. "Climb aboard and you will see."

He offered her a leg up and a moment later she was standing in the basket, her hands grasping the edge as Tem climbed in beside her.

"So how do you operate one of these things, again?" he asked, and she gave him a playful swat on the arm.

It was strange to feel so light and happy in these moments with Tem when all of this terrible dark stuff was swirling around them. Lyse and the others were back in the real world dealing with The Flood and she was here taking a hot-air balloon ride with a man she loved.

Yeah, she'd used the word love and she meant it. When this was all over, she'd already decided she was going to stay in the dreamlands with Tem. She didn't care if she never went home again . . . besides, what home was there to go back to? Weir was dead. Her mother was dead. Her father was a terrible person, and who knew what was going to happen to the covens? No, she would throw her lot in with Tem and let what would be . . . be.