Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(8)

I slip through the side door, tiptoeing lightly, hoping to make it up to my room without being seen so I can have some time to myself—time that I desperately need in order to set some things straight.

Poised and ready to dash up the stairs when Sabine pokes her head around the corner and says, “Oh good, I thought I heard your car in the garage. We’re going to eat in about half an hour, but why don’t you come in and visit a bit beforehand.”

I peer over her shoulder in search of Munoz, but thanks to the wall that separates us from the den, all I can see are a pair of leather man-sandals perched on the overstuffed ottoman, appearing so relaxed and casual it’s as if they don’t belong anywhere else but that very spot. Switching my gaze to her and taking in the sweep of her shoulder-length blond hair, the flush at her cheeks, her sparkling blue eyes, and renewing my vow to be happy that she’s happy—even though I’m not exactly thrilled with the reason behind it.

“I’m—I’ll be down in a bit,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m just gonna wash up—and stuff . . .” My gaze drifts back to Munoz, unable to tear it away no matter how disturbing the view. I mean seriously, just because it’s summer doesn’t mean I should have to look at faculty feet in my own house.

“Okay, well, don’t take too long.” She starts to turn, hair swinging over her shoulder as she adds, “Oh, and I almost forgot, this came for you.”

She swipes a cream-colored envelope off the side table and offers it to me. The words mystics & moonbeams printed in purple on the top left corner, my name and address in Jude’s angular scribble scrawled across the front.

I just stand there and stare, knowing I could grab it, place my hand on the front, and intuit the contents without ever having to unseal it. But the thing is, I don’t want to touch it, don’t want anything to do with it, the job I once held, or Jude, the boss who, as it just so happens, played a significant role in pretty much all of my lives. Reappearing again and again, always managing to claim my affections until Damen showed up and swept me away. A centuries-old love triangle that ended the second I saw his Ouroboros tattoo last Thursday night.

And even though Damen claims that lots of people have them—that its original meaning wasn’t at all evil, that Roman and Drina just made it that way, I can’t take the chance that he’s wrong.

Can’t take the chance that Jude’s not one of them, when I’m pretty dang sure that he is.

“Ever?” Sabine tilts her head, shooting me her usual look that says: No matter how many books I read on the subject, adolescents may as well be aliens. A look I know all too well.

A look that prompts me to snatch the envelope right out of her hand, careful to handle it by its edges as I smile weakly and tackle the stairs. Hands shaking, body thrumming, as the contents reveal themselves to be a paycheck I definitely earned but have no intention of cashing, along with a brief note asking if I’ll please let him know if I’ve no plans to return so that he can hire another psychic to replace me.

That’s it.

No: What the heck happened?

Or: Why did you go from nearly kissing me to tossing me across your yard and into the patio furniture?

But that’s because he already knows. He’s known all along. And while I may not know just what he’s up to, he’s clearly up to something. He may be ahead of the game for the moment, but unbeknownst to him, I’m about to catch up.

I toss the envelope toward the trash, figuring my lack of response should be answer enough. Directing it in a complicated choreography of loops and circles and one very perfect, spot-on figure eight, before bringing it down with a soft, barely heard thud and heading into my walk-in closet where I retrieve the box from the top shelf—the one that holds my supplies—everything I need to undo what I’ve done.

The time is right—providing for a fresh new start, the perfect opportunity (the only opportunity according to Romy and Rayne) to break the spell I unwittingly cast when I accidentally summoned the dark powers to aid me. The moon is now waxing, which means the goddess is rising, making her ascent, as Hecate, the one I mistakenly called upon before, plummets to the underworld where she’ll mark her time until a month from now when it all comes full circle again.

I reach into the box, retrieving the candles, crystals, herbs, oils, and incense I’ll need, taking a moment to organize them neatly and placing them in the order in which they’ll be used. Then I shed my clothes and lower myself into the tub for my ritual bath, bringing along a sachet filled with angelica for protection and hex removal, juniper for the banishing of negative entities, and rue to aid in healing, mental powers, and the breaking of curses, along with a few drops of petitgrain oil that promises to banish evil and remove all negativity. Sinking all the way down ’til my feet hit the far edge and the water fills up around me, grabbing a few clear quartz crystals from the ledge and plopping them in too, as I chant:




I cleanse and reclaim this body of mine

So that my magick may properly bind

My spirit reborn, now ready for flight

Allowing my magick to take hold tonight.





But unlike the last time I indulged in a soak, I don’t envision Roman before me. I don’t want to see him until I’m ready, until it’s absolutely necessary. Until it’s truly time to undo what I’ve done.