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The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(5)

By:mber Benson


Gone, she thought. No, gone was too easy a word. It didn't begin to encompass what had happened to Weir when they'd run into The Flood's operatives.

Murdered . . . destroyed . . . obliterated . . . these words were more appropriate.

"You're a million miles away," Arrabelle said, running her hands over her newly shorn head. She'd shaved it down before they'd performed the Releasing Ritual for Eleanora, the last master of the Echo Park coven. It was upon Eleanora's death that the leadership of the coven had passed to Lyse, her granddaughter. Only Lyse hadn't known the true nature of their relationship at the time, having been led to believe that Eleanora was just her great-aunt. It was hard to believe that Eleanora's death was still so recent. So much had happened since then that it felt like decades, not days or weeks.

"I'm here," Lyse said, dragging herself back to reality. She would tell the others about Weir's death soon. She just couldn't face it, and everything else they'd just learned, right at that moment. "Anything from Lizbeth or Daniela?"

Arrabelle shook her head.

"No . . . wait, hold on." She tapped the screen, bringing up a voice mail on speaker. "It's an Italian number."

The message played out in short bursts of heavily accented English. It was a woman's voice, an administrator from a private Italian hospital, letting them know Daniela was their patient. The message rambled on, but the gist was that Daniela wasn't doing well, had been in a coma since she'd been admitted, and Arrabelle's was the name they'd been given from the emergency room as a contact. Please would she be in touch? 

Arrabelle replayed the message again for clarity, but the intent was the same: Someone needed to go to Rome and take care of whatever the hell was happening with Daniela.

"And there's no mention of Lizbeth," Lyse said, thoughtfully, "but she has to be the one who gave them your number, Arrabelle."

"Seems like a reasonable assumption," Arrabelle agreed. "Something bad happened to Daniela, forcing Lizbeth to leave her behind."

"She had a dream to get out to the world," Niamh said in a quiet voice. "She did what she had to do to make that happen."

It was clear from this voice mail that fate had splintered the Echo Park coven to the four corners of the Earth. Yet, Lyse felt, should she and Arrabelle ever come together with Daniela, Dev, and Lizbeth again, their reunited coven's power would be more than impressive. It would be unbelievable.

"We can get to Los Angeles in a few hours, and then we'll go to Italy from there," Arrabelle said, looking to Lyse and Evan for approval.

"I think it's the only plan that makes sense," Evan said, reaching out and taking Arrabelle's hand in his own. "We should stay together. There's power in that."

"Yes." Niamh nodded. "Together is best. They'll have a harder time getting us if we stick close to one another."

"When they came for Niamh's and my coven," Evan said, his voice tight, "they played 'divide and conquer.' I've wondered since then . . . if we hadn't let them separate us, maybe the outcome would've been different."

"I don't think it would've mattered," Niamh said-she and Evan had been members of a coven on an island in the Pacific Northwest. When their coven had been attacked, they'd lost their coven master, Yesinia, and two of their other members, including the coven's empath, Laragh.

Niamh had watched The Flood burn her blood sisters at the stake and then steal away with Laragh. Niamh's connection to her twin had led Arrabelle and Evan to the mine shaft near Groom Lake-but Laragh was already too far gone when they'd arrived. Lyse and the others had watched as Niamh held her emaciated twin in her arms, the sisters together one last time before Laragh died. It had been heartbreaking, and had made Lyse hate Desmond Delay and the rest of The Flood even more.

"No?" Evan asked. "You really think we were screwed, no matter what we did?"

Niamh nodded.

"We weren't prepared, and they were. We could never have beaten them."

The low-pitched hum of an approaching helicopter interrupted them.

"Shit," Arrabelle said, squeezing Evan's hand. "They know we're here. We need to get clear of the entrance and hide . . ."

She turned on her heel and headed back to the mine's entrance, dragging Evan with her. Lyse and Niamh followed behind them as the sound of the helicopter's blades cut through the purpling dusk. Lyse pulled her flannel from her waist and slipped it back on, the cool air from the mine shaft making her shiver. Arrabelle found a crevice in the shaft big enough for them all to fit, and they crammed inside, waiting.