Page 35 of Bewitched By the Djinn (The Bewitching Hour #8)

Chapter

Twenty-Six

The castle rises ahead, shrouded in clouds, dark towers looming under the moonlight. Magical lanterns glint through the fog, illuminating windows and parapets.

It’s giving Dracula vibes.

I still don’t know what to think about Bennet’s mate revelation earlier. And I don’t have time to sit and process it. I have to focus, stay close to Bennet and Helen, and try not to get in the way. Or killed.

We crouch low behind the ridge.

Damp moss soaks through my pants, breath fogging in the chill.

The plan is for Darius to free his brother and Lord Wallace, while Bennet, Helen and I go in search of the Ring of Solomon, since they are the most familiar with the layout of the castle and their uncle’s rooms.

The rest of our group is spread out around outside the castle, about to set off a distraction.

There are no guards outside the door we plan to infiltrate, which leads into the cellar. The guards are positioned between the cellar and the kitchen.

But we won’t need to go through the kitchens, because there is a secret passageway within the cellar. It’s how Helen has snuck out, many times, apparently.

Darius checks his pocket watch and then motions for us to move.

We sneak through shadows, beneath the cover of trees, and then into the dark pockets of the castle walls. Helen leads the way, graceful and silent. Darius handles the lock, and we slip through the servants’ entrance into darkness.

The cellar is cold and musty. My boots scuff against the uneven floor as Helen leads us to a shelf tucked along the far wall.

She fiddles with one of the wooden slats, and with a soft click, the wall shifts. Stone grinds against stone as a section slides open, revealing a narrow, hidden passage.

We slip through the opening one by one. Helen closes it behind us, then snaps her fingers. A golden flame sparks to life in her palm, casting flickering light over the close, shadowed walls. “This way.”

We follow her through the winding maze, the air growing cooler and more oppressive the deeper we go.

At a fork in the path, Helen nods toward a branching corridor. “The dungeons.”

Darius peels off without a word, the shadows swallowing him whole as he disappears down the dark hall.

The three of us continue on, up a set of stone stairs, through dusty passages. Every creak and distant tap sends my heart into overdrive.

The passageway tightens as we head up and into the wing where the bedrooms are, forcing us to walk single-file and ease our steps to avoid banging into the surrounding walls.

Lord Hugh will be keeping the ring close. We don’t know where he will be, somewhere in the castle, maybe asleep in his bed, but we have to start somewhere and his room is the most obvious place.

If he is sleeping, Helen plans to spell him into a deeper slumber while we search his room—and his fingers. If he’s not there, she’ll keep watch while we locate the ring with our magic.

Helen stops, motioning for us to wait while she eases open a slender door and slips through into a dark bedroom.

We hold still, barely breathing.

A long moment passes. Then another.

She peeks her head back out and shakes her head. No Hugh. That means it’s our turn. We go inside, leaving her in the corridor.

The bedroom is huge and empty. Heavy velvet curtains block the moonlight, and the fireplace is cold.

Bennet takes my hand. “Let’s find it.”

I nod and reach inward, calling on the thread between us. As always, the magic rushes to meet me—but it’s stronger when we’re together, sharper edged, like a current flaring with contact and heat and want. I focus through the arousal, drawing on my gift.

A golden thread unfurls in my mind. I follow it, tracing the magic signature: ancient, searing, unbearably bright. A flash behind my eyes, a pulse in my chest. The ring is close .

“It’s here,” I whisper. “Not in the room, though, but near. It’s moving.”

Bennet inhales sharply. “He’s coming.”

I stiffen, eyes wide.

We both spin toward the door—too late.

“I wondered how long it would take you.”

I whirl around.

From the shadows, a figure steps forward holding a lantern.

Hugh.

I knew those shadows weren’t right.

His white beard is neatly trimmed, his fine robes dark as wine, gleaming with gold thread. His eyes glow faintly in the low light. With stolen magic?

Helen stiffens. “How?—?”

“I have more magic than you and your brother combined now, and eyes everywhere. Not to mention, of course, the curse.” His gaze lands on Bennet and me. “It’s practically a beacon. I picked it up the moment you stepped into the lower halls.”

Bennet steps in front of me.

Hugh tuts. “Ah, young love. Messy, isn’t it? But also useful.”

With a flick of his fingers, half a dozen guards emerge from behind him. Armed.

We’re surrounded.

Helen lifts her hands, but before she can use her magic, another spell pulses from Hugh’s hand, an invisible force that flings her back against the far wall.

She crumples with a cry.

“Helen!” Bennet moves toward her, but two guards block his path.

“Don’t worry. She’s not dead. As for the rest of you, well.” His eyes land on me. “Let’s test the strength of the bond between you, shall we?”

Cold panic floods through me.

Bennet growls low in his throat, but then another invisible force strikes him square in the chest, dropping him to his knees.

“No,” I gasp.

A guard yanks me back.

“Lock them up. Keep them separate.”

“No!” I struggle, but it’s no use. The guards squeeze my arms behind my back with bruising force.

I catch one last glimpse of Bennet’s face, twisted with concern, before we’re dragged in opposite directions.

Before the door slams shut, Hugh’s voice echoes off the stone. “You should’ve stayed away.”

Pain.

It envelops me in cold arms, invades my lungs, infiltrates my pores. It coils around my bones like barbed wire. There’s no thought, just the violent, pulsing ache of absence.

I can’t breathe. The walls press in, slick with damp. Am I in a cage? It doesn’t matter. My own body is the cage now. Every nerve is scrubbed raw, every beat of my heart like a scream.

I don’t know where I am. Only that I’m alone.

Time ceases to have meaning. All I know is throbbing agony.

Somewhere, beneath the agony, a whisper stirs. A warmth. Distant. Familiar.

Bennet.

No words, just a sense. A steady presence I didn’t know I’d come to rely on. That I’ve always known, in some impossible, terrifying, beautiful way.

Cassie .

I gasp. The pain lurches, then sharpens. My body curls forward on instinct, but then like a flare in the dark, his magic brushes mine like an outstretched hand.

But it’s weak. Flickering.

He’s hurting too.

“I’m here,” I whisper, not sure if I’m speaking out loud or in my head. “I’m here, I’m here.”

You have to choose , a voice whispers in the back of my mind. It’s not Bennet’s voice, it’s mine.

Seriously, is it that hard? Oh no, some super-hot genie prince who’s great in bed loves me and wants to treat me like his queen for the rest of my life. The voice huffs. Don’t be a dumbass.

“I don’t know how.” I somehow manage to grit the words out.

Yes, you do. Stop talking to yourself and do it.

The voice is right. I do know. It’s like falling, but the kind where you let go of the edge because you want to. Because you know what’s waiting at the bottom isn’t a crash. It’s him.

I think about everything he is. Not just the danger and mystery. But the way he looks at me like I’m fire and starlight. The way he held me. The way he told me I was his mate like it was both a truth and a vow.

I choose you , I say in my mind. Bennet, I choose you.

The bond snaps into place like a door slamming shut and then flinging open.

Magic floods my limbs, hot and wild—but clean. No backlash. No pain. Like a river finally running the right course. Our magic is ours now, aligned. Whole.

And with it, his thoughts and emotions flow into mine.

It’s like touching sunlight for the first time. My body still trembles from the pain, but it’s fading fast, burned away by the heat of something older and deeper. The moment our magic clicks into place his presence brushes against every corner of my mind. Warm, steady, furious, and tender.

And I know he’s getting everything pouring out of me too—the ache, the confusion, the need, the part of me that wants to collapse into him and never let go.

We’re really here. Together.

The pain is gone.

I choke on a laugh-sob, half joy, half relief, tears stinging my eyes. Bennet, I’m here. Damn, I should have done this before. I am an idiot.

His presence sharpens with the sound of my name. And then—his voice comes through the bond. You’re my idiot.

I’m definitely grinning in a damp cell in a dungeon like an idiot.

Cass—he killed them. My parents.

My grin drops. What?

An image of Bennet floods my thoughts. He’s in a dark, cramped room, somewhere above me. Some kind of a storage space. His presence is like a warmth in my midsection. He’s leaning against a door, listening to an ifrit guard right outside of it.

Are you reading that creature’s thoughts? I ask.

His response is laced with uncertainty. I think so. My powers. They are more. I think it’s the bond.

I search inside, seeking my own magic. He’s right. What used to be a glimmer of flame I could draw on to track objects is now a roaring inferno that I’m not sure I can control. I tamp it back down and focus on Bennet. He’s drawing information from the weaker minds around him.

My uncle. It’s always been about power. About control.

Everything he told me was a lie. He was jealous of my mother who would inherit more than him.

He planned their death, the ifrit attack.

He asked them to kill his own sister and brother-in-law and fiancée in exchange for power and land.

All because he couldn’t stand being second in line.

The rush of it hits me in waves—his thoughts, his grief, his fury.

He’s not right in the head. He’s been planning this for years. He hates Helen because she’s part mortal. Thinks she is dirty. I can hear him speaking with her, somewhere below me. When the wedding plans began, he ensured she discovered the truth of her parentage and encouraged her to flee.

He pauses. I think my senses are more enhanced as well. Hugh and Helen aren’t even on the same floor as I am.

I sniff and glance around my dingy cell. Well. I’m glad I still have my lame human senses because this dungeon stinks like ass.

Bennet’s warm chuckle fills my mind. Then he’s quiet again, listening.

He says everything he has done is for the realm, but it’s mostly about hate and prejudice.

He thinks humans are weak. That my parents were fools for choosing to mingle our line with mortals.

The reason it is hard for us to conceive is because we need more diversity in our bloodline, but according to him, we should be using the more powerful, darker blood of ifrit.

Horror rolls through him and into me.

He plans on getting the fake Helen with child. He wants his bloodline merged with an ifrit to be all powerful. He’s going to use Helen’s magic to bond her likeness with the ifrit, forever, and destroy her.

He’ll merge her image with an ifrit and control them with the ring, including his own children. Then he will be in charge of all the realm, and the ifrit.

Not if we have anything to say about it. Bennet’s thought is a growl.

I rise to my feet slowly, my pulse steady. What do we do now?