Light in the Darkness

LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS

T he thud of heavy boots jolts me out of an uneasy sleep.

I pull my hand back through the bars and sit up as two guards stalk down the corridor, their dark robes emblazoned with the seal of the Northern Trinity.

They prowl past our cell with measured steps, eyeing Esme and me like wolves sizing up wounded prey.

A warning growl comes from Owen, and one guard, a burly man with a jagged scar down his cheek, curls his lip in a sneer as his attention shifts to my mate.

They say nothing, though, as they move on, and the door groans open .

Their footsteps vanish up the stairs, and I press my face to the bars of my cell to try to see them.

“That was weird,” Zane says, now standing near the door to his prison.

The door opens again, followed by the unmistakable clang of chains rattling and a body thrashing. A familiar hiss reverberates off the dank stone walls, primal and furious, and fear grips my heart.

Did Ros get himself into trouble already?

The guards come back into view, a man held tightly between two of them while the third one opens the cell on Owen’s left.

The blood freezes in my veins. Not Ros.

They undo the chains and throw the older man inside, slamming the door shut before stomping away.

A figure shuffles from the shadows, the dim lights throwing his gaunt features into sharp relief. Malice glitters in sunken eyes above hollowed cheeks, and a smirk distorts his cracked lips.

Ros’s father, Elias.

My stomach churns with dread. Of all the prisons in the witch world, why did we have to end up in the same place as this sicko?

He slinks closer to the bars, his movements jerky as if he doesn’t have full control of his muscles. “Well, well, well. It’s the Wendall witch herself, gracing us with her presence.”

As his hate-filled eyes roam over me, I suppress a shudder. Even removed of his power and held prisoner, the feral air that surrounds him raises every hair on my body.

His head cocks to the side. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this? Did the council figure out what you are?”

Bile rises in my throat, and my fingers curl into fists. “You mean the witch who kicked your ass, old man?”

“So, no, you’re still playing that one close to the vest. Good, I don’t want them knowing what a prize they’ve caught.” His tongue darts out to sweep over his cracked lips. “Is my good-for-nothing son with you?”

Not wanting to reveal anything to him, I clamp my lips shut.

“He is here, isn’t he?” His words slither across my skin like venomous serpents. “He wouldn’t have let his mate be taken without coming along. And my daughter? How is sweet Delilah doing?”

“Good, now that we freed her from your clutches.” I lean against the bars and smile. “Tell me, how much does it irritate you that you can’t just explode into a thousand bats and escape here?”

His lips peel back from his fangs, and he snarls, reaching clawed hands through the bars to hiss at me.

Owen, waiting by the wall that separates their cells, pounces, hand snaking out to grab his wrist and yank it toward him. A sickening pop explodes in the air, followed by Elias’s scream of pain.

Owen releases him with a growl. “Talk to my mate again, and I’ll come through this wall to end you.”

It appears I’m not the only one who holds a grudge.

Clutching his broken arm to his chest, Elias scuttles back into the shadows, cowed for now. But there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s still a threat.

Not when we’re trapped in these cells with the man who already tried to end us once.

The next time footsteps thud into the corridor, the guards bring Aspen down for a visit after a mediocre dinner.

He passes two pairs of socks through the bars. “ I’m sorry. We couldn’t find any shoes small enough.”

“Story of my life.” I sit on the mattress to tug the socks over my frozen toes.

He stuffs one of the blankets through the bars. “How are you faring down here?”

“It’s not so bad, if you ignore the company.” I nod toward the cell kitty-corner from mine.

Aspen peers over his shoulder at Elias’s cage. “We heard about him being down here. Ros tried to get you moved away from him, but they refused.”

“Tell him not to come down here.” I rise to return to the bars. “He shouldn’t be subjected to that monster again.”

Aspen dips his head. “I’ll do my best.”

Taking the blanket, I toss it toward the bare bed frame. “Any word on when we’ll be put before the tribunal?”

Something akin to guilt flashes across his face. “We’re still waiting for everyone to arrive.”

“What?” I grip the bars. “Can’t they teleport them here like they did us?”

“I’ve requested a public trial, so they have to put out an alert and give people time to travel here.” When my lips part to protest, he holds up a hand. “I don’t like the way they handled this. The more people to bear witness, the better.”

“This isn’t a social call,” the guard with him prods. “Get a move on. I don’t have all night.”

“Hang in there.” Aspen’s eyes flick toward the guard, then back to me. “Maybe try some meditation to pass the time?”

I snort. “The second we’re out of this, I’m firing you as a mentor.”

The smile he gives me holds a tinge of sadness before he nods and moves along, passing out the rest of the blankets.

While he does, I drag my mattress back onto the bedframe and remake the bed.

I fluff my single pillow and drop it at the head of the mattress just as the guard shouts, “Lights out!”

Darkness plunges down around us, with no windows in our subterranean holding cells to offer any sliver of light.

In the cage next to mine, Esme lets out a quiet whimper.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Zane’s voice drifts across the divide. “We’re going to be okay. Nothing here will hurt us.”

Not a total lie. Elias would most definitely hurt us, but the bars hold him in as much as they do us. Owen had tested them earlier, trying to use his super strength to bend them to no avail. The guard didn’t lie when he said the wards here suppress our powers.

Zane and Esme continue to whisper to each other for a while before they lapsed into silence.

I hope they’re getting sleep while my mind races in useless circles, like a dog chasing its tail.

The confinement, while chilly, isn’t so bad, aside from being kept out of touching distance from Owen.

If I had a book to read, I’d be right at home in confinement.

One hand on the bed, I slide down to the stone floor and lie on my back to stare up at the ceiling. I point my toes and stretch my arms overhead. For a jail cell, the place is pretty spacious.

Or is my height actually coming in handy for once?

I relax my muscles. Inhale. Exhale. My breaths slow as I slip into a meditative state.

Who knew all those lessons with Aspen would come in handy here?

My consciousness sinks within, finding the threads of magic that extend outward. I tug on the black one, and a complicated rush of emotions flows back to me from Owen. My mate, whose honor held him back for so many years, protecting Hartford Cove instead of coming to find me.

Next, I tug on the red thread, and from within the stone building, Ros’s attention turns toward me, along with a protective rush of energy.

It’s good to know that whatever wards are woven into these cells can’t stop me from reaching my mates.

I hesitate before reaching for the green thread, afraid I’ll find madness on the other end. Haut’s wolf hadn’t handled it well the last time he lost me. Instead of wildness, his thread hums with steady strength. He’s doing as I asked and keeping it together, trusting us to return to his side.

With a shaky exhale, I wrap my magic around the pink thread. It feels frayed, barely holding on. The laughter and healing I expect from Tris are missing, replaced by a spiraling fear that threatens to snap our tenuous link.

Gathering all the other threads, I pull them to Tris’s and wrap my blue thread around them, binding them tighter together, using the others’ strength to keep Tris from breaking.

“He’ll be okay, Rowe,” Owen whispers in the darkness. “Haut won’t let him worry by himself. ”

“Think Greyson is lying on top of him right now?”

He chuffs in amusement. “I’m sure he is.”

I smile at the thought. “How long do you think before we face the tribunal?”

“Could be months, maybe longer,” Elias interjects. “I’ve been here since they took me prisoner and haven’t seen them yet.”

My stomach swoops. “Shut up. We’re not talking to you.”

Surely they won’t leave us waiting for months. Not with Aspen and Ros here, advocating for a quick resolution on our behalf.

“They’ll let you rot down here for a while, wait until you grow desperate before they strike,” he taunts. “The council has plans for you, the last of the Rothaven coven.”

Against my better judgment, I ask, “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, now you want me to speak?” he sneers. “You have no idea what you’re caught up in, girl. The true powers at play here. You’re in way over your pretty little head.”

Anger surges through me, and I clench my fists, fighting for control. “Classic, made-for-TV villain. All talk and no substance. ”

He chuckles, the unsettling sound echoing off the stone walls. “Bryant had much to say about you, the most precious of his witches. He wouldn’t stop talking about you, in fact, once he grew back enough of his brain for motor function to return. Why do you think he was so obsessed with you?”

Disgust surges through me at the reminder of my tormentor. “He wanted to be my surrogate father and didn’t like to be told no.”

“That’s not the whole of it. But you’ll find out soon enough.” Elias’s tone drips with a perverse sort of anticipation. “Trust me, little witch, they will come for you.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” I snap, trying to mask my fear. “Just spit out what you know.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” he purrs, his voice sounding too much like Ros’s for my comfort. “I’ll let you stew in the suspense. It’s so much more delicious this way.”

“If you don’t shut up,” Owen growls, “I swear I’ll?—”

“What?” Elias scoffs, unimpressed by his threat. “Threaten me to death from within your cage? Face it, you’re all powerless here.”

That’s where he’s wrong. I block out his taunts as I slip back into a meditative state, focusing on the ceiling.

Gael’s voice rises from the depths of my mind. A body can only stay afraid for so long. Once I became numb to the fear, I realized there was light in all that darkness.

Deep inhale, slow exhale.

The fear, the worry, the anger… I let them all slip away, let the coldness of the stone seep into me, numbing everything out until I float in a sea of nothingness.

A flicker of light shines in my periphery, but I ignore it, continuing to drift, allowing it to come to me.

Little by little, silver lights form in the cracks around the stones, a mortar of magic holding this fortress together. Other magic takes shape, too, sigils cut into the ceiling, hidden in the shadows, a suppressive weight stifling all those who stand beneath them.

Deep inhale, slow exhale.

The mortar between the stones pulses, and my heartbeat aligns, falling into sync with it. It feels like when I connect to the barrier over Hartford Cove, like when I touched the magic of Silver Hollow, powered by earth and tree, by root and leaf. Here, the magic pulls from the rocks of the mountain .

Familiar magic.

Rothaven magic, fading from the Northern Trinity’s stronghold.

The realization snaps me out of the trance, and I struggle to sit upright, shaking out my hands until burning pricks of needles sting my fingertips with the return of circulation.

“Are you okay, Rowe?” Owen asks, worry in the question.

“Yeah, right as rain.” I roll onto my knees and crawl to the mattress, back on the hard frame.

I struggle to pull myself onto it, my legs too numb to support my weight.

Shivering, I drag Ros’s sweater around my shoulders and tug the spare blanket over my head, needing to retain what body heat remains.

I need to talk to Aspen, to dump my worries on his shoulders. Because I’m beginning to think Elias isn’t just talking out of his ass to scare me.

What did Granny Hutchen say at the gate? That she would have preferred others not to know we’re here. That the Hutchen brothers volunteered as our graders so they could investigate Hartford Cove without being obvious.

And Gael asked to see the spell for our barrier, requested permission to study it .

Even if Esme and Zane hadn’t given themselves away, would they have found another reason to bring me here?

Hadn’t Mel’s mothers wanted me to come apprentice with them instead of leaving my training to Mel and Aspen?

Back then, I hadn’t cared so much about being a witch and let their interest wash right over me.

I cup my frozen fingers in front of my face and breathe warmth onto them.

Esme and Zane acted as a catalyst, but the Hutchen brothers came to our town for a different reason. Gael’s friendliness was way too suspicious. What was his end goal? Convince me to come pitch the Grim Project to the council, then vanish me along the way?

A chill races through me, raising goose bumps on my skin that have nothing to do with the cold.

What is the Northern Trinity really after?

Power . Isn’t that what it’s always about? Granny Hutchen thought we were hiding something in Hartford Cove that made us dangerous.

But why now?

Hartford Cove has stood for hundreds of years, unbothered by the paranormal world until I rolled into town in my battered sedan, searching for safety and family.

So much about the town changed after that. Witches. Vampires. Ancient curses dispelled.

While all we wanted was to live in peace, what must the events of the last four months looked like to outsiders? An amassing of power? A threat to the Trinities, who are supposed to be the big kahunas?

A headache throbs at my temples, my thoughts turning into noodles as I lose the thread.

How am I supposed to know what the leaders of the paranormal world fear?