“SHUT UP!”
A surge of power and magic burst inside of her, and as it happened, Davy knew instantly it was a mistake. She wanted to silence The Immortal—she silenced her magic instead . . .
She looked up, and the Mori was staring right at her.
“Oops.”
“What?” Tracey whipped around, her hand grabbing onto her sword.
Davy couldn’t look away from the Mori. She didn’t move. In a normal situation, she should’ve fled or at least attacked with a spell. She did neither. Something was holding her in place, and she continued to hold the Mori’s gaze.
She was drawing the vampire into her mind.
Tracey and the others knew they could be seen by now and had their weapons drawn. Davy flung her hands out and barked, “No! Don’t move.”
“Who are you?” the Mori asked in her mind. She had beautiful doe eyes, high cheekbones, a heart-shaped jawline that curved to petite pink lips. She didn’t stand in Davy’s mind with the robe. The Mori female was in a white dress and nothing else. No makeup. No shoes. No socks. She was barefoot, and her long black hair swung freely as she gazed around her surroundings. A small line appeared in her forehead. “Where am I?”
“My mind.”
“Your mind?”
This Mori wasn’t the enemy. Davy felt goodness from her. She wasn’t a warrior that would instantly kill. That was why Davy was drawn to her, pulling her into her mind. It was a safe place, for both of them.
Davy asked, taking a step toward the vampiress, “Do you know who I am?”
“You are . . .” She gazed around once more, the corners of her mouth pressing in. “You’re The Immortal thread-holder. No one else would have the power to pull one, such as myself, into your mind. I’m a priestess for my people. My own powers have not been challenged by more than a handful.”
She was a big deal. Davy nodded. She got it. “What’s your name?”
“Yaeyn.” The vampiress added, “Jiyama spoke about you. She said your magic was addicting. She yearned to touch it again.”
“Jiyama helped us. My friends and I could escape because of her. I’d like to thank her someday.”
“She’s missing.”
Davy frowned. “What?”
“She’s gone. No one can sense her essence anywhere. That’s why I’m out here. I had hoped . . . I thought perhaps she went in search for you, but . . .” Yaeyn turned around and regarded the others. “I am not seeing her with you.”
The one Mori that Davy hoped could help them was gone. She—there was nothing she could do about that. “Lucan loved her.”
Yaeyn nodded. “She loved him as well. It is troubling. No one can find where my sister went, even Lucan himself. He was the last to have spoken to her.”
A dark cloud of suspicion lined the bottom of her stomach. Davy wondered, but that didn’t make sense. Lucan loved her. She witnessed their exchange herself. If he did something . . . then, that would be on him. It would be another reason to make him suffer.
Yaeyn said, “I hear rumbling.” She focused on Davy. “That is you. That’s your anger.” She inclined her head, a soft question coming from her, “You don’t think . . . Lucan was to wed my sister. Why would he harm her?”
“I don’t know, but the Lucan you know isn’t the Lucan I know.” The rumbling in Davy grew, shaking, sending Yaeyn from side to side. She held her hands out, trying to steady herself, but the beautiful landscape that Davy had sculpted for the Mori turned to the inside of a volcano. The heat was rising, more and more, and Davy was ready to explode.
“Kill her,” The Immortal hissed.
Yaeyn’s head whipped around. “Who was that?”
Davy was standing in front of the Mori, but another presence stepped beside her. She knew, before looking, that it was The Immortal. It was herself.
Yaeyn’s eyes widened, and she took a step backwards. “They unhinged the thread. You are no longer merged.”
“Kill her,” The Immortal said again, ignoring the Mori. “Take her power for yours. We can use it instead of using the power you’re restoring for Jacith. Take her power, Davy.”