Darkwraith bk 2

chapter 4: heartbreak

I wanted to be alone and Alex honored that. I lay on the floor, sprawled as if I had fallen from the bed. The buttresses above looked ancient. The way the full moon accented around the deep, velvet curtains made me shiver. Tonight should have been my induction into this wonderful coven, but because I was the figurative wingless fairy, they rejected me.

Rejected me!

I closed my eyes, remembering every painful detail of how I had given way to the Shadoweaver’s lure for the sole sake of trickery. I had to. I had to look and feel and act the part so that I could save Stormhold. The image of their broken bodies after the demon had destroyed them vapored into my head. I shuddered, tears prickling behind my lashes. It was the only way.

I stirred, moving my head to the other side, making sure my hands stayed soft. I could still see—taste—Alex’s terror when I had crossed the chasm. I was lost in evil pleasure to destroy him.

I could still see his frightened doe-like face. And then the hatred that crossed those big eyes. My fingernails dug into my arms and I shoved my face into my hands. How could he still love me?

A bubble of air lodged up my throat and I choked, my eyes flying open. No. I shook my head. I didn’t feel pleasure to destroy Alex. Yes, I was only faking pleasure in order to get the Shadoweaver to believe it was all real. Right? It had to be.

Hot tears rolled down my face and I bit my lip. Did I lose a part of myself when I gave in to evil? Was it possible I was truly a threat to Stormhold? I rubbed my upper arms and rolled to my side until my knees grazed my chin. Did I really yield dark magick like they had said? Why would they go out of their way to twist me into something so cruel when they had yearned for me to join them only weeks before?

None of this made sense.

Then my dream of this morning cracked wide open in front of my eyes. The watchers pleading for my guidance. What was it that Jareth had said? The more I strained to remember, the more it slipped into oblivion. The emotion that had come from his words was fear. Whatever he had said, it was terrible.