Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(79)

The door burst open, and Jason stumbled in. Blood was on his face, and he was drenched with water.

“Noah’s gone,” he said.

“Gone?” Dawn demanded. “What do you mean?”

“He knew something was up and jumped me.”

“Find him.”

“But the storm is –“

“Find him!” the inhuman voice was back. “Find him and bring him to me, or don’t come back!”

Jason appeared surprised. Dawn strode to him and backhanded him. The Dark teen flew into the nearest wall and hit it with a thunk. He scrambled to his feet.

“Go!”

He obeyed. The other Dark teens were frozen in shock, while Morgan eased back against the wall. She eyed the nearest window. She had no chances of reaching it and Summer wasn’t going to leave her.

Beck and Summer. She’d kill them both before the night was over.

Morgan pushed the thoughts away.

Dawn shook the Darkness off again. “Troy, Alexa, grab those two.”

Morgan tried to avoid Troy’s reach, but he grabbed her easily. Fire flared up his arms.

“Nice try,” he said and snatched her. “I’m a fire witchling, too. Won’t work on me.” He flung her over his shoulder.

Morgan heard Summer and Alexa scuffling, but couldn’t see them. The sound of something heavy striking flesh came, and the sound stopped. Morgan pushed herself away far enough to see Alexa standing over Summer’s still body, a starter log in her hand. Alexa hauled the unconscious girl into a fireman’s carry.

Dawn blocked Morgan’s vision. A bag was placed over Morgan’s head. She shook it, trying to get rid of it. Dawn tied it around her throat, tight enough to stay in place without strangling her.

“Let’s go,” she ordered.

Morgan hung helplessly over the Dark teen’s shoulder, nauseous again from the movement and her pain. They didn’t go far. She heard the sound of a vehicle running then the chill of stepping outside. She was tossed into what felt like a back seat. Her hands were cuffed once more, and someone propped her up against the door.

Beck’s in love with her.

Morgan started crying, unable to help it. She’d never felt this kind of ache, one that threatened to consume her. She fell into the fever world and passed out. When she finally awoke, the vehicle had stopped, but was still running. Otherwise, it was silent. Disoriented, she wondered how much time had passed. Her neck was stiff, indicating it was longer than a few minutes. She was shaking from the fever.

Dawn’s strange muttering faded in and out of Morgan’s awareness.

“…soul stone. We can send one of the Light witchlings to get it.”

If someone answered, Morgan didn’t hear the voice. There was a pause, as if Dawn was on the phone, before she spoke again.

“Oh. Like a vase. You’ll be the water in it. You won’t need me.” Dawn was pouting.

Again the odd pause. Morgan closed her eyes again, not understanding.

“No. Not Noah.”

Morgan faded out again. Her whole body felt swollen. Her leg was numb.

The door supporting her gave way and someone caught her as she tumbled out of the car. Someone hauled her through snow. She warmed herself with her fire magick, too weak to fight anymore.

The person supporting her stood her on her feet. She almost passed out at the sudden pulse of pain. Her hood was removed, and she blinked. They were somewhere dark and stale, lit only by flashlights. The beam of one shone in her face. Morgan closed her eyes, grimacing.

“Take a look, Morgan,” Dawn said.

The light was removed from her face. Morgan opened her eyes and struggled to see through the spots the light left. She focused on where the nearest beam was aimed.

Tomb.

They were in a small mausoleum with stone walls and half a dozen stone sarcophagi. One was open, and the flashlight didn’t penetrate the dark space within it.

Morgan tried to stand, but wasn’t able to. She felt the sudden need to run. The walls were too close, the air too heavy and old.

“I want you to suffer like I have,” Dawn’s voice was quiet. “Beck did this to you by dragging you into his life. I want you to remember that every second you’re in there.”

“Dawn,” Morgan started. “What are you doing? This is just insane!”

“Insane. Whatever. Jason, put her in.”

Morgan tried to struggle. Her movement was constricted by her cuffed hands and injured leg. Jason shoved his foot against her hurt leg. Morgan almost passed out. Her body was limp but her mind aware of what happened. She felt him lift her and maneuver her into the open tomb. She wasn’t the only one there; she felt the soft skin of someone else who was very much alive and assumed it was Summer. The girl didn’t stir, but Morgan heard her breathing.

The sarcophagus was sealed. Morgan struggled out of her mind. Full blown panic lingered at the edges. With her good leg, she lashed out at the lid. It didn’t budge.

She panicked. Morgan clawed at the ceiling, feeling as if the walls were closing in on her. Her fire magick was at a roar, the air of the coffin hot. The cold stone dug into her hip.

A pulse of earth magick penetrated her frantic movements. It silenced the crackling fire and slid between the pain in her leg, and Morgan sagged, panting.

“Morgan,” Summer’s voice trembled. “You have to remain calm.”