Page 20 of Love Summoned

“Nix—” Len lays a hand on my shoulder.

“Save it.” I shake him off and take myself home, my shadows dropping me onto my bed within seconds.

Hynde is right. I didn’t cause whatever this is, but I do feel weak when I try to fight it. It feels damn near impossible. When we’re apart, I can barely get my mind off her. Right now, knowing she’s hurting, my skin feels like it’s trying to tear from the bones.

The witch has confused my motives. I’m only here to find the witches who cursed Catori, who are a threat to his life and mine.

For one hundred years, I have served him, no questions asked. My will was not my own from the moment my human heart made its last beat. My soul was claimed by Catori, my morality forsaken. In the decades that have passed, my mind has wandered from bitter acceptance to hedonistic greed, never lingering on the melancholy of loneliness, because I always had my brothers, always had Catori whispering in our ears that we were needed for a higher purpose. His purpose.

In my human life all I knew was peace and family. I always helped the people in my town, I liked being a part of the community, I liked protecting them and having people know they could rely on me.

Tonight was the first time I felt truly needed, and it wasn’t even real. It was this fucking curse convincing me I was wanted, and that I wanted it in return. Just another thing I have no control over. When it’s over, Sera will go back to being the enemy, likely attempting to vanquish us before we can escape back to Hell, and I can’t have my brothers disappointed in me when everything goes back to the way it was.

9

This is all my fault. Edith warned us someone would get hurt. I’ve been so determined—impatient—in trying to understand the visions that haunt me, that I risked my sister’s life.

“Are you done with the spell, Sera?” With a mortar and pestle Celeste grinds together ingredients: angelica, rosemary, rue, and nettle.

I finish writing my cleansing spell on the parchment, then roll it up. “Yes.”

Handing it to Celeste, I take the mortar from her and pour the mix into the metal bowl on the dresser beside Sloane. It sinks to the bottom of the seawater, then I throw in a pinch of black salt and grains of obsidian before lighting a match and accepting the parchment back from Celeste. Setting it alight, I toss it into the mix right before it burns out, sending a muffled boom echoing off the walls.

Celeste dips bandages into the smoky gray liquid that’s left in the bowl, then begins dressing Sloane’s freshly stitched wound. My sister whimpers, making the guilt sit heavier in my stomach. Thank the Goddess the cut was clean and shallow, that nothing major was hit. Most of the bleeding had stopped by the time I drove us back to the inn thanks to Celeste’s time-slowing powers.

Sloane’s body shakes, cool to the touch, as Celeste mutters incantations with every soaked cloth she places on my sister’s bare skin.

I’m even more confused as to what my visions could mean.

First the dagger, though it didn’t look like the one used on Sloane, so it can’t have been a warning of her getting hurt. Then Hemlock Vinyl and the library. Earlier tonight, I saw a name on a tombstone: Theodora Solomon. I’m certain Hemlock is the place I’m meant to be.

My visions have always been a warning of danger or a sign of someone needing protection. It’s not as simple as waiting for them to reveal all the pieces of the puzzle. The last time I waited for the visions to make sense, it was too late. My best friend—my only friend—suffered the consequences. Since her death, I’ve always taken immediate action with my visions.

Is it possible Nix is the one who needs saving? The fact that I keep getting led to him either means he’s in danger, or he is the danger. I don’t believe it’s the latter; something in my gut refuses to accept it.

A low, urgent knock bangs against the door. Celeste and I freeze. It’s just after midnight.

“Who could that be?” she whispers.

I shake my head, then creep over to the door and press my ear against the wood. My magic pushes forward, searching for whoever’s on the other side.

Their heart beats erratically, their whole demeanor hot, wild, and urgent. A frantic fist bangs against the door again, making me jump back. I crack it open just a hint, and find Rowan, eyebrows furrowed and chest heaving.

“Ax—” He pushes the door open, stepping inside before I have a chance to stop him.

Fuck, how am I going to explain this? “Ah—it’s not…”

Rowan doesn’t ask any questions, just kicks off his boots and lifts the sheets, gently easing Sloane up until he slips behind her, then pulls her back against his chest.

Huge tattooed arms rub up and down over hers, his energy shifting from intense discomfort to calm as his body heat takes over the room.

“Saw you bring her in,” he says, as if that answers all the questions running through my mind right now.

“Are you a healer of some sort?” Celeste questions as I start fanning my face.

Rowan looks up at me, studying me for a beat, then his brown eyes glow golden.

“You’re a wolf.” I gasp. “The gray one who followed us back.” Both times we’ve fought demons here, three wolves have always been at the scene before us, but the biggest one always stayed close to Sloane.