Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(36)

Maybe, just like the akashic records in Summerland, it’s all about asking the right kind of questions.

But while the akashic records permits only the worthy within its grand halls, The Book of Shadows only requires a code, followed by a coded question, preferably in rhyme.

So after softly chanting the rhyme Romy and Rayne taught me:




Within the world of magick—resides this very tome

To which I am the chosen—returning to my home

Within the realm of mystics—I shall now reside

Allowed to glimpse upon this book—and see what lies inside.





I sit there, feverishly trying to come up with a clever rhyming question to crack Roman’s code—but my mind remains blank and The Book just sits there, its pages refusing to reveal anything new.

I sigh and lean back in my seat, swiveling from side to side as I take in the room, the various pictures and totems that line the walls, the myriad books piled onto the shelves, a room overflowing with so much potential, holding all the necessary ingredients for all manner of magical spells, and yet none of it inspires me, none of it offers any kind of help. And the truth is, there’s no more time to waste. Summer is fading fast and I need to come up with a solution since there’s no way I can keep avoiding Damen.

Damen.

I press my hands to my face, determined to keep the tears at bay. Forcing that salty sting back down my throat.

I haven’t seen him since the day of Miles’s party when I jumped out of his car and went to Summerland. Haven’t answered his calls. Haven’t answered the door. Have barely acknowledged the numerous bouquets of red tulips that now fill up my room. Knowing I don’t deserve them—don’t deserve him—until I can find a way to work this all out—find a way to ask for his help—or even find a way to ask Jude to ask him. But every time I start, the beast interferes—refusing to allow anything to come between Roman and me. And the truth is, I know I’m not just running out of time but running out of places to look. Jude’s search has resulted in nothing, and everything I’ve tried so far has resulted in a complete and utter failure. And if last night is any indication, it’s only getting worse.

I opened my eyes to a darkened room, the thick coastal fog refusing even the vaguest sliver of moonlight to creep through. But still, I slipped out of bed and out of the house, my feet bare, clad only in a sheer cotton nightgown, with only one destination in mind. Drawn to Roman’s house like a sleepwalker—like one of Dracula’s overeager brides.

Moving quickly, effortlessly, through the quiet, empty streets, stopping just outside his window, as I crouched down low and peered through the gap in his blinds. Immediately sensing her presence, knowing she was in there—somewhere—enjoying the one thing that is meant to be mine.

My mind spinning, reeling, as my body ached with unsatisfied hunger and need. The beast raging inside me, urging me to stop thinking and get moving—just break down the door and eliminate her already. And I was just about to do it, just about to make a move, when she sensed me too. Storming toward the window with a gaze so hardened, so menacing, it was a brief slap of sanity—a reminder of who I am—who she is—and what we stand to lose if I allow the beast to win.

And before I had a chance to rethink it, I ran. All the way home and back to my bed, where I lay sweating, shaking, doing my best to quell the overwhelming need—to extinguish the dark flame inside me.

A flame that burns brighter, hotter, stronger each day.

A fire so insatiable it’ll consume everything in its path—my small glimmer of sanity—my fragile connection to the future I want—and anything else that stands between Roman and me.

And just before I finally drifted off, I realized the worst part of all—by the time all that happens I’ll be so far gone, I won’t even realize my fall.



_______



Jude enters the room and drops onto the seat—purposefully, meaningfully, clearly wanting to be seen.

“How’d it go?” I mumble, lifting my head from the desk where it’s been resting for the last hour. My hands still shaking, legs still trembling, still fighting to suppress the overwhelming urge that’s come to define me.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He eyes me slowly. “Any progress?”

I shrug. Actually, I shrug and groan. Which, as far as I’m concerned, should be answer enough. Careful to keep my hands in my lap, out of his view, so he can’t see them tremble.

“Still trying to crack the code?”

I glance at him briefly, then close my eyes and shake my head. I’ve given up on the book. As far as I’m concerned, it’s only made things worse.

“I haven’t been able to find anything either, but still. I’m happy to take another crack at it if you still want my help.”

In a word—yes. I do want his help. I’ll take all the help I can get. But with the beast now taking over, the words just won’t come. My throat growing so hot and tight only silence will soothe it.

“Is it a rhyming thing?” he asks, refusing to let it go.

I shake my head, still unable to speak.

But he just shrugs, not the least bit daunted by my refusal to play. “I’m pretty good at chants if I do say so myself—pretty good at rapping too for that matter—wanna hear one?”