Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(49)

Slumped over the desk, my forehead pressed to the wood, as I fight to steady my pulse and slow my breath. Horrified by my actions, by how low I’ve sunk. The scene from ten minutes ago repeating again and again in my head.

I stay like that for a while, until my skin starts to cool and my mind starts to clear, and when I finally lift my head and take a good look around, I notice the calendar’s been torn off the wall and propped up before me. Today’s date circled in red along with a question mark, my name underlined right beside it, and the words, Maybe this’ll work? written in Jude’s messy scrawl.

And just like that, I get it. The solution I’ve been waiting for is now, thanks to Jude, right within my reach. And it’s so unbelievably obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Gaping at Jude’s sloppy circle, and the smaller, printed circle within it illustrating the moon and its phases. And the fact that this one is completely colored in signals that today, the moon is going dark.

Hecate is rising again.

And suddenly, I know exactly what to do.

Instead of waiting for the moon to go light and asking the goddess to cancel the queen like the twins had me do (which, by the way, probably only served to piss off the queen which is why it failed so miserably), I should’ve waited for today, for the moon to go dark again, so I could head right back to the source—pick up right where I started—with Hecate, ruler of the underworld—and forge an alliance with her.

I reach into the drawer, bypassing The Book of Shadows, and rummaging around for some of the supplies that I’ll need. Making a mental promise to make it up to Jude later, as I cram an assortment of crystals, herbs, and candles into my bag before slinging it over my shoulder and heading for the beach—the only place I can think of that’ll provide not only the privacy I seek but the body of water required for the ritual bath that I need.

And in no time at all I’m standing at the edge of the cliff, toes curled around the rock as I gaze out at an ocean so dark it blends with the sky. Recalling the same sort of night just one month before, when I came here with Damen, so sure I couldn’t possibly sink any lower than turning my best friend into an immortal, completely clueless to the fact that I was about to take it even further.

I make my way down the trail, anxious to begin. Carefully picking my way around jutting rocks and jagged turns, heart crashing hard against my chest as my body goes clammy with sweat, aware of that feeling rising inside me and knowing I need to get started before it takes over again. Feet carving deep into the sand as I make my way toward the cave, trusting it’ll be empty, just like we left it, knowing it’s just like Damen said: People rarely see what’s in front of them. And they certainly never see this.

I drop my bag to the ground and reach for a long taper and small box of matches, the swish and sizzle of the match striking the case the only accompaniment to the gently pounding waves. Securing the burning candle into the sand, I go about the business of arranging the rest of my tools on a blanket. Taking a moment to get it all organized before shedding my clothes and heading outside.

I wrap my arms tightly around me, bracing against the wind that pricks at my skin, and attempting to warm it away. Determined to ignore the protruding stack of ribs that poke at my fingers, the way my hip bones jut out in front of me, telling myself it’s all over now, the cure is near, no one, not even the monster, can stop me from recovering.

Rushing toward the foamy, white spray, my teeth gnashing against its bitter, frigid bite, I dive under a series of waves, eyes shut tight against the stinging saltiness, ears filled with that loud, roaring hum. Shifting onto my back as soon as the onslaught is over and the ocean has calmed. My hair spread out all around me, my body weightless, unburdened, I bring my knees to my chest and gaze up at a sky so dark, so stark, so vast and mysterious, I can’t even fathom it. Grasping the amulet Damen placed at my neck, and calling upon the collection of crystals to aid and protect, to keep the monster at bay long enough to do what needs to be done. Placing my fate in Hecate’s hands, entrusting that, just like the yin and the yang, every dark has its light.

I submerge myself again and again, until I’m cleansed and renewed and ready to begin, wading toward the shore, my body wet, dripping, covered in goose bumps I barely take notice of. The chill now abated by the warm assurance, the complete certainty, that I’m just seconds away from slaying the beast and saving myself.

The cave walls flicker from the light of the candle, causing a succession of dark and light shadows. And after cleansing my athame, waving it three times through the flame, I kneel in the center of the magick circle I’ve made. Incense in one hand, athame in the other, re-creating a ritual similar to the one that went before, only this time I add:




I call upon Hecate, the queen of the underworld, magick, and the darkest of moons

Please unweave this spell, loosen this bind, and extinguish this dark flame that looms

Oh, great patron of witches, beloved mother, maiden, and crone

This is my mote, my will, my might

So let it be done!





Gasping in awe as a howl of wind swirls through the space and an applause of thunder cracks overhead. The force of it causing a vibration so potent it knocks the stack of chairs to the ground as the earth begins to shift and move. A rhythmic, seismic shaking and trembling, a pulse originating from somewhere down deep—growing stronger, more violent, its circumference increasing—causing layers of rock to break free from the walls and crumble around me.