Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(62)

Alexa hurried towards them, and Morgan pushed Summer and Biji to start them moving. They went, running down the path that Summer’s magick had cleared. Morgan started to follow when lightening shot through her. She uttered a strangled curse and dropped to the ground.

The currents stopped, and she lay on the ground, steaming and panting.

Summer and Biji were staring at Alexa, surprised, while the Dark teens moved closer.

Morgan pushed herself to her knees and waved for them to continue. She’d been Taser-ed once before in self-defense training. It sucked, though her fire magick absorbed much of the electricity and took the edge off. It left her disoriented, but it wouldn’t incapacitate her the way it did someone else.

“Crank it higher,” one of the Dark teens called.

“Use both of them,” another advised. “Fire witchlings have an immunity to being shocked.”

Morgan wobbled to her feet. She started to turn to knock off Alexa’s head.

This time, the currents paralyzed her in a mix of pain and shock. Alexa took the others’ advice, using two Tasers on their highest settings. Morgan wasn’t able to absorb the power darting through her fast enough, and she dropped into unconsciousness.





Chapter Sixteen


With the soul stone, we can wipe out Light. Permanently.

Dawn half-listened. It was harder than she expected to juggle Bartholomew’s thoughts with her own. Lately, she wasn’t always able to tell which was which. Not that it mattered. They had the same goal: make Beck suffer.

“Maybe then Beck will finally understand what it’s like to lose something he loves,” she replied.

The barista behind the counter of the café looked at her blankly.

Dawn shook her head and forced a smile. She lifted her coffee from the counter and left the café for her car. It was a chilly early afternoon. The sky was clear, but the weather was expected to get worse. Hopefully, it prevented people from venturing out once the sun set. She’d picked tonight for that reason: she didn’t need anyone interfering in her plans.

She glanced at her watch, anxious to hear how the first phase had gone, then slid into her car.

“Alexa can’t be trusted.”

She jerked and glanced at the passenger seat.

Sometimes, she saw him. In the mirror after a shower, in the reflection of a dark window. He was almost fully formed in her car, not quite taking shape but definitely there, as if she were dreaming. But she wasn’t. She was awake, and the large, foggy form of Bartholomew-the-Terrible was in her car. She looked away.

His aura was shadowed like Decker’s and his eyes were the same shade of blue-green as Beck’s. With bronze skin and dark hair, Bartholomew’s features were otherwise obscured by the haziness of his vision.

It was an air memory. She’d seen them before, like when Tanya came to visit her after the girl had been killed. Dawn recalled seeing Tanya in her room, standing by her bed, watching her. A strange cold filled Dawn then, the same one fluttering through her now.

She shuddered. She didn’t like seeing dead people.

“She’ll betray you,” Bartholomew said.

“I know. She’s already gotten soft about things,” Dawn replied curtly.

“If you want this to go right, you can’t have a weak link.”

“She’s fine for now.” Dawn gripped the steering wheel. She guided the car out of the parking lot.

“It’s a risk.”

She sighed. “Really? Are you going to tell me what to do every minute of my life?”

He said nothing.

“I’ll deal with it when it’s an issue,” she added firmly.

“No, I’ll deal with it when it’s an issue,” he replied. “You won’t do what it takes.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Fine. You deal with her.”

He disappeared. She wasn’t certain what that meant or even if he was really gone. She had a feeling his intention was not to let Alexa go her own way when this was over, which was what Dawn intended to do. Alexa served her purpose, but Dawn had never actually killed anyone. She debated with herself.

“She lacks conviction,” Dawn muttered, echoing the words she hated to hear from Bartholomew.

In Alexa’s case, it was true. Alexa was the reason they failed to kill Summer or get revenge on Beck. The girl was in love with Decker; she’d even apologized to him weeks ago for hurting Summer, before Summer re-emerged into the picture. Lately, Alexa was surly and slow to respond to Dawn’s texts. She began to think Bartholomew was right; Alexa was a weak link.

Dawn parked and got out of her car. Her gaze swept around the parking lot and settled on Noah, who seemed to be waiting for her. As usual, the sight of him eased some of her tension. Her brother was her only real ally. Alexa and the Light and Dark witchlings she bribed or slept with rotated through the revolving door of her life. Noah was her blood; he had to be loyal.

“Hey,” she said, waving.

He approached. His blue eyes were troubled, his brow low. He appeared to be brooding.

“Hi. Caffeine free, I hope,” he said, glancing at the coffee in her hand.

“Of course,” she lied. She hadn’t given up caffeine or alcohol despite the doctor’s warnings about birth defects. Her mother spent both pregnancies on drugs and alcohol, and she and Noah turned out fine. Beck’s kid wasn’t going to cramp her lifestyle.