Dark Flame (Immortals 4)

He nods. Doesn’t say a word, just nods. But his attempt at restraint rings loud and clear.

“So I can’t imagine what made it go wrong. I mean, at first I thought I’d nailed it, but then it—it completely got away from me and started reversing itself all over again, repeating the same sequence of events as before.”

“Ever, I know you repeated the steps, but did you also repeat the same tools? The same herbs, crystals, and whatever else you might’ve used?”

“Some new, some old.” I shrug, not quite getting his point.

“What’s the main tool you used—the one that really got the spell rolling?”

“Well, after the bath, I—” I narrow my eyes and think, the answer coming instantly: “The athame.” I look at him, both of us knowing that’s it—the big wrong thing that I did. “I—I used it for a blood exchange, and—”

His eyes widen, his cheeks pale, and his aura begins to quiver in a way that’s more than a little frightening. “And was this the same athame you used on me?” he asks, his concern ringing loud and clear.

I shake my head, seeing his face flood with relief. “No, that was just a quickly manifested replica. The real one’s at home.”

He nods, obviously glad to hear it but determined to move on. “Well, I hate to say it, but that’s the one thing you wanted to make new. You need to offer the goddess something new, pure, and unused. You can’t serve her with the same tainted tools you used for the queen of the under-world.”

Oh.

He looks at me, gaze saddened, eyes tugging down at the corners when he says, “I’d love to help you, really I would, but this kind of thing is a little over my head. Maybe you should consult with Romy and Rayne, they seem to know what they’re doing.”

“But do they?” I squint, unsure where I’m going with this, and really just thinking out loud when I say, “Because the thing is, I did listen to them. I did what they said. I mean, granted, they didn’t like the athame, claimed I’d made it all wrong and wanted me to melt it down to a stub, but still, even when I refused, they just let it go. They never once said I couldn’t use it again or that I had to use a whole new set of tools in order to reverse the spell. Somehow they failed to share that with me.”

Our eyes meet, both of us wondering the same thing. Why would they do that? Was it on purpose? Do they really dislike me that much? With Jude dismissing the thought a lot quicker than I. But then, he doesn’t know our history. A history so complicated and volatile, I can’t rule it out.

“Listen, they’re extremely close to Damen—they love him about as much as they hate me. Seriously.” I nod, knowing it’s not an exaggeration—it’s completely and totally true. “And despite the fact they they’re supposedly good witches, I wouldn’t put it past them to do this, thinking they were te

aching me a lesson, or heck, maybe even trying to keep Damen and me apart. I mean, who knows what they’ve got planned? But even if it wasn’t intentional, even if they just simply didn’t know any better, there’s no way I can approach them. Because if they did do it on purpose, they’ll tell Damen, and under no circumstances whatsoever can he find out about this—I can’t hurt him that way. And if they didn’t, well, then it’s just one more piece of ammunition in their arsenal of things with which to ridicule me.”

Jude leans toward me, his face determined when he says, “Ever, I get your dilemma, really I do. But don’t you think you’re coming off as just a little bit paranoid these days?”

I narrow my eyes and lean back in my chair, wondering if he’s listened to a single word I’ve just said.

“I mean, first you accuse me of being a rogue, which, by the way, I still don’t know what the heck that is other than it has something to do with Roman, who not only, well according to you anyway, runs his own tribe of evildoers but who you also just happen to both loathe and lust after due to some binding spell gone wrong. And while you can’t be too sure, it’s quite possible, or at least in your mind it is, that Romy and Rayne are out to get you, which is why they purposely left crucial pieces of information out of their instructions so that you could mess up in such a way that would keep you and Damen apart. And speaking of Damen, you’re also convinced he’d never forgive you for this mess that you’ve made—and—” He shakes his head. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”

I frown, arms crossed, eyes narrowed to slits, refusing to acknowledge any of it—besides, it’s not that simple, it goes much deeper than that.

“Ever, please, I want to help you, you should know that by now, but I’m also determined to do the right thing. You need to take this to Damen. I’m sure he’ll understand and—”

“I’ve already explained,” I say. “He doesn’t trust magick and he already warned me against using it. I can’t bear for him to know I didn’t listen, and just how low I’ve sunk.”

Jude leans back and studies me closely, his voice a sigh when he says, “Ah, but you’ve no problem with me knowing, is that it?” He gives a half smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

I take a deep breath and look at him, determined to shoot as straight and openly as I can. “Trust me, this isn’t comfortable for me either, but I’ve pretty much got nowhere else to go. But, hey, if you don’t want to get involved, just say so and I’ll . . .”

I grip my armrests, lifting myself out of my chair, preparing to leave. Stopped by the lure of those deep aqua green eyes coaxing me back into my seat, as he slides open a drawer, riffles through the contents, and says, “Looks like I’m already involved. Let’s see what I can do.”

twelve

“And here I thought I was destined to head off to Florence without a final good-bye from you!” Miles grasps me to him in what could only be described as a bear hug. Peering over my shoulder at Damen and eyeballing him carefully when he whispers, “Glad to see you’re back together again.”

I pull away and shoot him a dubious look. Remembering the last time I saw him, at the going-away party I threw for him last week, and how he urged me to move on from Damen and find happiness with Jude.

He reads my gaze as though reading my mind, his lips curving into a grin as he says, “So I want to see you happy—is that so bad?” He turns, giving Damen a little half wave, when he adds, “Heck, I want to see everyone happy—which is why you might want to steer clear of just about every room in this house except the one you’re in now. And that includes the backyard.”

Damen’s arm tightens around me, pulling me into a protective embrace, his voice tinged with concern when he says, “So there’s someone on the guest list who might make us unhappy?”

I glance between them, already knowing the answer. I knew it the instant we got out of the car and walked up the drive to his door. The moment that strange, foreign pulse awakened inside me, alerting me to the one thing, the only thing I need to know: