Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(32)

Even knowing Dawn was in Las Vegas and Connor was in Idaho, she hastily texted Beck. Please tell me you’re okay and so is Connor.

His response was immediate. Safe and sound, both of us. I’m emotionally damaged beyond repair, but that’s a different issue.

She smiled.

What’s up? He texted.

“Noah’s in trouble.” Morgan wasn’t certain if she should type the words or not. Dawn was clearly using her brother to try to entrap her, but whether or not Noah was in true danger, Morgan didn’t know.

Morgan regained her composure and straightened. Her body was wired, her mind exhausted. She patted the soul stone in her pocket, wishing there was a different solution, one that let her unleash her fire and fury at Dawn without worrying about what happened to the stone.

Dawn threatened you and Connor, she typed.

Beck’s response made her start to cry. I’ll protect him with my life, Morgan. She sat for a moment, fighting back tears. She wanted to tell him where she was and beg him to sweep her up into his Light and soothe her pain.

But she didn’t. She was doing this to protect him and everyone else.

Dawn’s threat solidified the decision she feared making. There was one person who might help her understand the stone: her mother. Even if the man who tasked her with destroying the Light found out she was alive, she had to risk it in order to learn everything she could about the stone.

Thank you. I have to go somewhere. I promise to check in, she told him. “Then I’m taking out Dawn. If it costs me my soul, my life, I don’t care. You will be safe, Beck.” She didn’t type these words but felt them sink into her like the truth she hadn’t wanted to admit about how much she cared for Beck.

Maybe she wasn’t meant to be with Beck, but rather to die protecting him and the Light from the evil she carried. She didn’t know for certain, but the decision to face Dawn took some of the anxiety out of figuring out what to do next. It felt right to confront her rather than run. It was the kind of approach her fire magick preferred, too, after four years of impotent anger and cowering away from those who hurt her.

Where? Beck texted.

Not far, she lied. Noah’s in trouble, Beck. Dawn grabbed him. I’m fine but I have to leave. Morgan tucked the phone in her pocket and returned to the ticket booth to change her ticket destination. When she was done, she went to the bus boarding for the first leg of her trip. She claimed a seat near the window and pulled out her phone.

You will never hurt Beck again. Let’s finish this. You and me – the day before the equinox – at the place where we met, she texted to Dawn. Fire engulfed her hands as she typed, and she suppressed the magick eager for the chance to face Dawn.

Beck had texted twice to tell her he alerted Decker and the Master of Dark was heading to Las Vegas to find Noah.

Morgan hugged the phone with her hands the way she wanted to hug Beck. The bus was chilly, and her fire flickered across her skin to keep her warm. After a long moment of internal debate, she dialed her mother’s number.

“Hello?” came the groggy response. It was close to one in the morning in New York.

“Mama. It’s me. I really need to talk to you,” Morgan whispered.

There was a stunned silence, and then, “Morgan?”

“Yeah. I have a lot to tell you and I can’t talk long. Can you meet me at the bus station in …” Morgan checked her ticket with a grimace. It was going to be a long, cross-country bus ride. “… three days, ten in the morning? I promise I’ll explain everything.”





Chapter Twelve





Decker lay on his side on his bed, watching his counterbalance and best friend, Summer, twist her hands in front of her. She was beautiful even when she was nervous. Her large eyes were glued to him.

“Promise not to laugh. Or yell,” she said and hesitated again on her way to his desk.

Decker hid a smile, sensing how serious Summer was. His quiet counterbalance appeared ruffled, which was rare for her. She wasn’t in danger, and he knew without a doubt she wasn’t going to leave him. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything worth flipping out over. “I’ll never yell at you,” he reminded her.

“Okay.” Summer drew a deep breath and whirled, her long, dark hair fanning out around her as she did. She wore a dress and dark tights today, and his eyes drifted down her body. She was perfect – cute, powerful and sexy. His fire stirred every time they were together, and the soft whisper of spirit magick always stretched to join their souls into one. She’d allow this connection, even when she had grounded him from sex until she was eighteen, part of their deal after the events that occurred after she went Dark then became the first witchling ever to reclaim her soul. It had taken him a month to get to the point where she could spend the night and he was able to keep his magick restrained enough for them to sleep. His only real solace: she was happy and in several months, they’d be able to sleep in his bed naked once more.

The air of his room was filled with her earth magick, and it helped him calm his fire.

“So. I figured out I have a talent for something, and I’m pursuing it,” she told him. “And … I know this might upset you, but next year, when I graduate, I want to go to art school.”

He listened, sensing more.

“In Toronto.” She cringed, waiting for him to speak.