The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(13)

Arrabelle watched Lyse's face pinch with anger.

"You've met my uncle?" Lyse asked, and Arrabelle remembered the unsettling conversation she and the other members of the Echo Park coven had had with the man . . . before Lyse dosed him with a heavy helping of medicinal marijuana, the drug seriously messing him up. Once he wasn't a threat anymore, Arrabelle and her other coven mates had sent him packing. Needless to say, he was a nasty piece of work.

"Yup," Jessika said, nodding. "He was a creep."

"I knew it from the beginning," Lyse said. "I wanted to be wrong, wanted him to be a decent human being, but unfortunately I was right." She sighed. "I wanted to have a family again, but living in denial isn't the way to get it."

"You have a family . . . of sisters," Niamh said. "Blood sisters stand by each other no matter what."

Arrabelle appreciated Niamh's quiet strength. Though she wasn't very verbal, when she did have something to say it was usually pretty important. The girl trafficked in cold hard truths. As if she knew she was being assessed, she shot Arrabelle a small smile, then nervously tucked her long brown hair behind her ears.

"Thanks, Niamh," Lyse said. "I know you're right."

"Well, if the Delay thing is all settled . . ." Jessika said, indicating that they should continue moving. "Let's walk and talk. I get the impression we need to lock and load before we wear out our welcome here."

"Agreed," Evan said. "It's this way."

He turned the corner and they entered another dark warren of tunnels.

"The women are mostly in shock, but they'll do what you ask. Arrabelle and I started passing out some lemon balm tincture I brought with us. It seemed to have a calming effect."

Arrabelle felt a hand on her wrist, and she turned to see Niamh walking beside her. The other woman's gait was slow, her stride not nearly as long as Arrabelle's own. Arrabelle released Evan's hand and slowed to match the younger woman's step. The rest of the group pulled ahead of them.

"Can we talk for a minute? Alone?"



       
         
       
        

Arrabelle knew where Evan was headed, so she nodded. Niamh's request was more than reasonable.

"Of course."

Niamh slowed even more before finally coming to a complete stop-and in the half light, her face looked white and drawn. She leaned back against the wall, her bony shoulders pressing into the cold concrete.

"I wanted to let you know that I'm not alone."

Arrabelle raised an eyebrow and Niamh smiled.

"That's one of your go-to expressions," Niamh continued. "The raised eyebrow. You look like you don't believe a word anyone says, period."

Arrabelle didn't like learning that she was so predictable. She lowered the eyebrow and tried to compose her face.

"It's not a bad thing. I like that I sometimes know what you're gonna do before you do it," Niamh continued. "It makes me feel safer. Well, a bit safer. I don't feel good about much these days."

Arrabelle understood. She'd been a closet cynic for most of her life, but the experiences she'd had the last few weeks had hardened her in a way that even the trauma of losing her beloved father hadn't been able to.

"What's that mean?" Arrabelle asked. "That you're not alone."

Niamh shrugged. Arrabelle watched as the young woman scratched her chin with nails that had been bitten to the quick.

"It sounds odd, but when Laragh died . . ."

She stopped there, silent for a moment. Arrabelle knew it was hard for Niamh to talk about her dead sister. Their unspoken twin connection, a psychic link that transcended space and time, had led them here to this underground facility. The sisters' bond was so strong that Arrabelle wondered if even death could truly separate them.

"She's in my head. Has been for a little while, only at first, I didn't realize. That's all I wanted to say."

"Can you be more specific . . . ?" Arrabelle asked-she thought she knew what Niamh was saying, but it was so outlandish that she wanted it confirmed first.

"The thing that was born down here from all the tests and death-Laragh says you call it a poltergeist-it's in here with us, too. Laragh can handle it. It listens to her. So you don't have to be afraid. It won't hurt anyone. Laragh has it under control. See?"

She reached out and touched Arrabelle's arm-and Arrabelle felt a jolt of electricity cut through her. 

WE ARE ONE AND WE ARE ALL HERE. OUR BODIES ARE ONLY VESSELS.

The voice-if that was even what it was . . . in some ways the words were more like an image flashing across her brain-continued inside her head: