Page 130 of Blood that Burns
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MAGGIE
“Took you long enough,” Reese says, pushing off the brick building she’s leaning against.
Law and I share a glance, in which he’s silently communicating not to mention our run-in with the power angel.
I wonder why the secrecy about that but choose just to follow his lead. I’m unaware of paranormal creature politics, and I’m working on just processing one thing at a time.
“Yeah, well, we ran into some hunters.”
So no talk of angels, but hunters are on the table. Got it.
Law thins his lips and looks down at me, unamused.
Meanwhile, Reese bites her bottom lip, thinking about heaven knows what.
“They are in town.” She’s clearly heard the rumors, which leads me to wonder if she already knows about the angel too. “Well, I’m glad you’re alive, because from what I hear, those hunters are tough as shit.”
“They’re weak,” Law grunts, and both Reese and I roll our eyes at his show of bravado. “We’ve got to hurry. Midnight is a sacred time for the coven, and they won’t appreciate being interrupted.” She tsks as though we had any control where being cornered by vampire-hunting half angels was concerned. “We need our audience before the ritual begins.”
Law motions for her to lead the way and she takes off in a brisk walk, with us right on her heels.
We’ve walked several blocks in the dark when the hairs on my arms rise. Not in fear, but from some invisible magic weaving its way through the air. We stop in front of a white house with a blood-red front door that sticks out like a sore thumb, even in the darkness. A black wrought-iron fence surrounds the home, keeping the people who stray this far off its beautifully manicured lawn.
A coppery taste coats my tongue and a thick, shimmering bubble appears to shield the entire property.
The door opens and a woman steps out. Her ceremonial dress is made of bright pinks, oranges, and blues. It’s striking, even more so against her umber skin. Her hair is covered by a red turban.
“Only she may enter,” the woman says, pointing to me.
Her voice is smooth and melodic. If I were anywhere but in the middle of a witch’s magical home, only blocks away from demons and angels, I might be lulled asleep by it.
Law steps in front to argue and my hand juts out, stopping him place. I turn, placing both hands on his chest. “You brought me this far. Trust me to handle myself.”
He grinds his teeth together, looking down at me in indecision. I dig my heels in and prepare for an argument, but he nods briskly.
I look to Reese for a semblance of reassurance, and her answering smile gives me the courage to walk forward, toward the witch.
When the door slams behind us, the woman turns to look at me over her shoulder. “Follow me, Magdalena.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know many things, she says, a smile in her voice. “I am Madame Solheim, of the Solheim Coven. And I’ve been waiting for you.”
We walk to the back of the house and through an entry covered by beads in various shades of red. The center of the room is covered in a pentagram with candles situated all around it.
Madame Solheim moves toward a cabinet that stands chest high. Sitting on top are various ornate boxes, and she moves toward the middle one. It’s deep mahogany, bedecked with green stones across the lid. When she opens it, a green glow emanates from the box.
She lifts the stone, and the glow dissipates, leaving a large emerald that’s no less spectacular without the shimmering light.
“This will unlock the portal,” she explains, holding out the stone for me to take.
I open my palms and feel the thrum of the gem radiating through my hands. “Wow.”
“You must keep this on you at all times and protect it with your life.” I nod vehemently, my attention ensnared by the magic of the stone.
“The portal to the Fae world is in a forest in Washington state. The stone will lead you to where you need to go. Trust in the pull you feel.” She pulls me close as if to tell me a secret not to be overheard, despite the fact that we’re alone. “Donottake Marina.”