Chapter 24

24

CAROLINA

“ C arolina, wake up. We’re here.”

Declan’s voice filters through the cloudy state of being awake and asleep at the same time. I blink my eyes open and lift my head, wincing at a knot in my neck from the position it had been held in. I must have drifted off at some point during the trip.

I glance over at him, noticing the lines etched deeper into his features than they had been before. A stab of guilt pains my chest because he looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well, either.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pass out on you.” My voice is still drowsy as I look around at where we are. He must have parked a few blocks from Annabelle’s apartment because I don’t recognize the buildings immediately.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, running a tired hand over his face. His fingers tremble slightly as he rubs his eyes. “I figured we could both use a coffee before heading over.”

As a rule, I don’t ever turn down coffee, and I was pretty sure he could use an entire vat of it. A coffee and a bagel later, we’re walking the three blocks up to Annabelle’s townhouse.

To say I was jealous of the City Coven would be a vast understatement. What must it be like living in a city that doesn’t hate your existence or even know you exist for that matter? Camila and I couldn’t walk down the street without getting at least two glares and one person crossing the street so they wouldn’t get too close.

Annabelle lives on a street lined with brownstones. The trees that line the sidewalks are various shades of red, orange, and yellow. Fallen leaves have been pushed into haphazard piles against the gates and stairs that lead to the townhomes’ doors. The scent of fresh rain and earth mingles with the crispness of the season, making the air feel alive. Annabelle’s stairs are lined with pumpkins of various sizes, and her stair railings are woven with vine-like greenery.

“How festive,” I murmur, mostly to myself, as we climb the few steps to her door. “Do you think I should have called first?” I ask Declan as I press on the doorbell.

He laughs. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Annabelle’s voice is startled when she answers the door. “Carolina? What are you doing here?” Her brows scrunch in confusion as she looks at Declan.

She looks the same as when I saw her last at abuela’s funeral. Annabelle was my polar opposite. Her platinum blonde hair is pin-straight and hangs long over her shoulders. Her eyes, icy and calculating, seem to take in everything in a single glance, like she's already dissecting the situation. The blues of her eyes and the pink of her lips stand out against her fair skin. She’s always looked more spritely than witchy, and every bit like a New Yorker.

Annabelle works as a paralegal for a small but well-known law firm, which meant that any time I saw her, she looked immaculate. Today is no exception. Her nails are painted a neutral color, filed, and clipped. Her black trousers are expertly paired with a fitted beige turtleneck, neatly accessorized with gold jewelry. Everything about her screamed effortless perfection, the kind that only someone deeply in control of their surroundings could manage. She made me feel mousy and underdressed.

While Camila couldn’t stand her, Annabelle and I had a decent…working relationship. Some might even mistake us for friends. I think I could like her, but my own jealousy gets in the way most of the time, especially a few years ago.

She had everything I wanted and could never have: a life outside magic, outside Grove Meadow. The freedom to move wherever she wanted, though she’d have to give up her position in the City Coven. Even so, at least the city wouldn’t drag her back here, kicking and screaming.

“Annabelle, this is Declan. Hope we’re not interrupting anything,” I say.

She frowns at me, and I know she’s reading me. Her eyes flicker between Declan and me, her powers already working overtime.

“I assume you weren’t just in the neighborhood. Come in,” she says, opening the door further and stepping aside.

Annabelle is an empath. She can read others’ emotions and, if they’re strong enough, feel them herself. When she first came into her power, her parents sent her to live with us. Being able to read emotions in a city as big as New York…let’s just say she went a little crazy. Grove Meadow had far fewer people, which made it easier for her to train.

Camila had never told me what really happened between them. I told Declan it was a long story because there were so many versions of it. In reality, I think Camila was just as jealous of Annabelle as I was, except it was because Annabelle was able to learn her powers so quickly.

On the surface, it may seem like being able to read emotions isn’t that powerful of an ability, but she was basically a supernatural lie detector. Shifts in emotions, subtle redirections, false expressions of them…she was dangerous if you had something to hide.

“This way,” Annabelle gestures us into her sitting room, which is every bit as meticulous and proper as she is.

The fireplace is the focal point of the room. It sits against the far wall, positioned in the center. On the right side, a grey couch is placed against the wall of windows, and on the left, stylish tan accent chairs. A pendant light hangs over the circular white stone coffee table in the center of the room. The entire space feels curated, down to the smallest details, as if she’d personally approved each and every item. Light streams in from the windows, making everything feel bright and airy.

Declan and I sit beside each other on the couch, not quite on opposite sides, but not touching. Annabelle studies the space between us as she settles into one of the chairs across from us. She waves a hand, and coffee and pastries appear in front of us.

“Please.” She gestures to Declan, probably sensing his exhaustion. “So, what can I do for you?”

While Declan pours himself a cup of coffee, I lean forward.

“Something is coming, Annabelle. Something big. We’ve come to ask for your help figuring it out.”

She nods slowly, her hand coming to her necklace and fiddling with the charm that hangs from it. The air around her shifts, her expression growing more serious.

“We’ve been observing the disappearances from afar. Solana detected an energy flair a few days ago; she and I have been investigating its source. We’ve narrowed it down to somewhere around you and Camila.”

“There was a demon.” Her eyes widen impossibly. “Called himself Nightcrawler. We used a veritas potion to interrogate him, but when we got too close, he kind of…”

“Vanquished himself?” she offers, and I nod. The tension in the room thickens, and I can feel her attempting to probe deeper into my emotions. “Right, that would do it. Did he say anything useful before that?”

“Just that two people are behind this, and they aren’t demons.”

“Humans, then?” Her brows twitch in concern.

“Or witches.”

At that, Annabelle leans forward, her eyes furrowing even more deeply. “You truly believe that.”

And now I know she’s trying to read me, but I’ve always been good at burying my emotions, especially from her. After all, we trained together.

“I believe it’s possible, but I don’t want that to be the case. Camila spoke to Esme about a prophecy, and she said your coven was working on figuring out how it’s related.”

Annabelle tilts her head. “We were, but we drew up a little short. Esme didn’t come to me about it. She must have heard it from someone else.”

She waves her hand again, and a book shimmers into sight. Declan chokes on his coffee, placing the cup down on the table.

“Sorry, still getting used to all this,” Declan apologizes, coughing again.

Annabelle quirks an impeccably groomed brow at him, humor dotting her features. For a moment, the air between us lightens as Declan's awkwardness slices through the tension.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll adjust. It’ll just take a while. When Christian learned about everything he was fainting multiple times a day, but he’s very dramatic.”

“Christian is your husband?” Declan asks.

Annabelle smiles. “My mirror soul. He’s human, too.”

Ah, fuck . I let the barrier on my emotions down ever so slightly so Annabelle could sense my warnings not to say anything else .

“Mirror soul?” Declan’s brow furrows, and he looks over at me questioningly. I’m looking at Annabelle, practically pleading for her to change the subject.

Realization flickers across her features, and she glances at me apologetically. The empathy in her eyes sharpens, and I know she regrets saying anything.

“Ah, Carolina will explain later. I don’t want to keep you too long. Let me just find the…” Annabelle trails off as she flips through the pages of the worn, leatherbound book. Her fingers move with a practiced ease over the ancient pages, tracing the symbols as if they’re familiar to her.

The First Witch’s grimoire is much bigger than ours. This book alone contains millennia of information about our species, and it’s less than two feet away.

“Here it is,” she says, passing me the book.

It feels light despite its size, but my magic thrums insight of me in its presence. I find the old prophecy easily, but Sam was right. It’s not the same, and it’s longer than we’d previously thought.

In the stillness where voices once thrived, spirits are drawn into the void. Between the realms of flesh and phantom, the threads of fate intertwine, heralding either ruin or redemption.

When men fall, as shadows eclipse the light, a darkness will return, and a joined power will rule the worlds of might and magic.

“They’re still alive,” I whisper as Declan stiffens beside me. “The mortals that have been taken. Their souls are on a middle plane. That’s what Nightcrawler was doing when we stopped him.” I look back at Annabelle. “The demon we saw, he’d taken over a mortal’s body. They must be keeping them in the Underworld until the summoning is done.”

“So whoever’s behind this is selling the mortals out to the demons. Getting them to say the spell to open a portal,” Annabelle says.

“The humans are calling the demons?” Declan asks.

Annabelle and I share a look. “They’d need to. For a summoning like this one, the mortals need to offer their souls willingly. The question is, who gave them the spell in the first place?”

“And which witches want to summon this power and why now?” I add.

Annabelle stands from her chair. “I’ll have Solana see what she can find out now that we know for sure it’s the right prophecy. I’ll also see if she can pull the police files from the disappearances—what was that?”

“What?” I ask, following her gaze to Declan and then looking back at her.

“Not you, your…” she gestures to Declan.

“Oh, he’s a detective,” I say, realizing that Declan must have suddenly shifted his emotion at the statement, which drew her attention. “We’ll get you the files.”

Annabelle’s eyes light with humor again. The tension she’d been carrying seemed to melt away for just a moment, replaced by a glimmer of amusement.

“Oh, that’s… convenient ,” she says, the corners of her mouth lifting.

Declan mumbles something about chains of evidence and case contamination, which makes Annabelle laugh.

I stand, and Declan follows. “Let me know if you find anything. We’ll go back and talk to Silas and Luna about this version of the prophecy and see if they know anything.”

“Sounds good,” she says as we walk to the door. “You know, you could have called instead.” I know she senses the unease in my body. She knows I had to see the prophecy for myself. “Well…it was good to see you, regardless,” she says, pulling me against her in a hug. “I wish you’d visit more. And Camila, too.”

“If we survive this, we’ll come up as much as you want,” I promise when we pull away from each other.

Annabelle smiles and then looks at Declan. “Good to meet you. Open invitation to you, too, Detective. Christian could use a mortal sounding board. Swap war stories and all that.”

Declan looks like he could use a stiff drink, but also like he’s slightly relieved that someone might know what he’s been dealing with. “Thank you.”

“I’ll meet you outside, Declan. I just need to talk to Annabelle about one more thing,” I tell him. He gives her a tight smile before turning toward the front door.

Annabelle’s eyes follow Declan, and I wait until I hear his steps move down the stairs, crunching the fallen leaves, before looking at her.

“I’m sorry for bringing up the mirror soul thing,” Annabelle says, looking genuinely distraught. Her empathy must be picking up on the turmoil I’m desperately trying to hide. “The connection between you two was just so strong. I could practically taste it.”

I grimace. “Thanks for that imagery, but…you’re sure? A mirror soul connection?”

She blinks at me, her expression stilling. “You didn’t know.”

I fix my gaze on a photo of her and Christian on the wall behind her. “I suspected. I’ve been having dreams…about him.”

“Carolina, this is wonderful. Why aren’t you happier about this?” Her voice is excited but perplexed.

She’s right. Getting confirmation about what I thought was true should make this one of the happiest moments of my life. Instead, my mouth dries, and I feel my chest tightening uncomfortably. The weight of all the lifetimes where we failed—where we died—crushes any joy that might have surfaced.

She sucks in a breath, reacting to my emotions. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I can feel the sorrow building in my throat. A pain I haven’t allowed myself to feel. It’s strong enough that Annabelle’s lip begins to quiver, but my own is steady. “In those lives…we die. We never end up together.”

“Carolina.” My name is a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I said it. I didn’t know.”

I shake my head. “How could you know?”

Annabelle catches her tears before they fall, using the sides of her index fingers as a barrier. Her usually composed features crumple with shared sorrow.

“It could be different this time, Caro. You have Camila. You have me. We can fight this. You aren’t alone in this lifetime. Maybe you were back then, but you have people to protect you this time. To protect Declan.”

Her voice is pleading, but I could never ask that of her or anyone else. I wouldn’t put any of them at risk for something that was just a possibility. I wouldn’t do that to them. I wouldn’t do that to Declan.