Page 14 of Lunar Diamonds (Celestial Magic #1)

RILEY

D rake’s fingertips lit up with blue light, his dark eyes glazing over. Like the cute alien in E.T. when he heals things, but blue.

I’d never seen a scrying witch in action before. They were rare, the only witches to possess the power to search for things.

He tilted his head back and forth as if scrutinizing something. Goodness, he was so hot. Even in this dire situation, I couldn’t help but drool.

Thank Hecate I figured out how to pull him out of the illusion. I’d gone to a dark place with that creation. And while I knew they weren’t really drowning, I’d probably caused some deep trauma for those witches when they finally came out of it.

My stomach twisted. The violence would only increase from this point onward. And there would be times I’d have to kill for real, outside of the illusion of doing so.

Speaking of which, I felt the power ebb. Done. No longer in use from what I could tell. Depleted, yet also slowly rising.

Fine. I’d deal with that later. Time to keep my wits about me.

Drake’s fingertip lights blinked off. “This way.”

I followed him, thanking the universe for his existence. In no time at all, he got us to a rickety wooden stairwell, which turned into a spiral halfway up. I held the handrail for reassurance, the sounds of the shadow witches still thumping around us.

What were they doing? And where was Marcus Kingwood? Just around the corner, lurking in the darkness with a spell at the ready?

“I think I saw Marcus,” I told Drake as we reached a second stairwell.

A vein in his neck throbbed. “What did he do?”

“He tried forcing me and Isaac to leave with him.”

Drake picked up his pace. “Did you hurt him?”

Why? Did he care? “I think Isaac did. Or at least scared him away.”

Drake paused. “Then stay vigilant. If Isaac did hurt him, his ego will be pretty bruised.”

How well did Drake know Marcus Kingwood? How deep did their relationship go? And what if this was all part of the master plan to take down House Aurora? Fool me into thinking Drake wasn’t some arsehole, then stick the knife in.

I tensed under my thoughts, freezing to the spot.

Drake stopped and turned around. “What’s wrong?”

“You could be leading me right to him.”

“I’m not.”

“I can’t trust you. I can’t…what if…” I moved down a step, dread unfurling in my chest. “You tricked me into liking you.”

Did he just flinch at my words? “This isn’t the place to do this.”

Did he trick me, though? I was the one that got all starry eyed and silly over his smile and hotness. Shame on me for being the wriggly worm impaled on his hook.

Right?

“Riley?”

How the hell was I supposed to feel about this? “Crap…”

He came closer.

I backed off.

“I’m not tricking you here,” he said. “I want to help.”

My muscles tensed, teeth clamping down on my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The iron taste filled my mouth, triggering another tsunami of adrenaline.

“I’m sorry for how it all went down, but?—”

“No,” I cut him off. “We’re wasting time. We’ll talk about this later.”

If you try screwing me over, I’ll find something sharp to gut you with.

Yikes. Could I really do that?

We carried on.

My kingdom for some lip balm!

At the top of the second stairwell, we reached a narrower corridor with a dead end on the left and a third spiral staircase on the right.

“Up there,” Drake said.

We came to a locked metal door embedded into a stone arch. Blue symbols marked the arch, glowing slightly under the light of two electric lanterns hanging from hooks either side of the door.

“It’s in there?” I questioned.

Drake waved a hand over the symbols. “This is the attic. I’m not sure what these markings are.”

I mirrored him, tendrils of blue mist curling from the symbols as I moved my palm across them. Tiny sparks licked at my skin, the hair on my arms standing to attention.

I heard movement behind the door.

“Hello?” I tried.

“You’re here with the prisoner,” Ollie’s deep voice answered, sounding unhappy about it.

“Here to help,” Drake responded.

No answer from Ollie.

Something boomed heavily below us. Dangerously close.

We were running out of time.

“Where’s my mum?” Ollie asked.

“Downstairs,” Drake answered. “She’s been shot.”

My stomach dropped. “She’s… What?”

No answer from Ollie.

“Oh my goodness,” I added, ready to vomit.

Everything was falling apart.

“He’s gotta be here somewhere!” a man called from behind us.

Crapping hell. My toes curled tightly in my shoes, my heart about to leap into my throat. “They’re almost here.”

“I’ll leave if it’ll get Ollie to open the door,” Drake said. “Just?—”

The door opened, the hinge slightly squeaky. “Get in.” Ollie held a baseball bat in his right hand. Blood was splattered across his white vest. It didn’t appear to be his judging by the red stains on the bat.

I hurried inside, Drake sticking close. Ollie grunted at him, then slammed the door.

“Thanks,” Drake tried.

He got another grunt for his effort.

The attic was huge, with a pointed ceiling and cobwebs hanging like grim Christmas decorations in every corner. There were floor-to-ceiling shelves smothering the walls, and a huge cauldron at its heart. The shelves were empty, and there wasn’t any sign of a window.

“This is one of the spell rooms,” Ollie said, moving toward the cauldron.

He bent and lifted a floorboard, fishing out a bag of what appeared to be white sage, and a battered blue grimoire.

“This is what you’ll need,” he said, plucking out a loose, yellowed page.

There were three other loose pages—one gold, one silver, one pearly white—tucked into the book. He didn’t do anything with them, putting the book on the floor.

White sage was super expensive and hard to come by nowadays. Part of the High Coven restrictions.

There was another boom, which meant the shadow witches were closing in.

Ollie pressed a button on the floor beside the cauldron. Fire whooshed to life, wrapping around its edges. A vent opened above it, an extractor fan whirring.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

Oh, God. I hurried over to the cauldron, glancing back at Drake. His attention was on the door.

Ollie handed me the piece of paper, my nerves on edge. “This is the spell of protection. I’ve prepared the first part, but you need to do the rest.” He cleared his throat. “The cloaking charms are still working.”

Pearlescent liquid simmered in the cauldron, releasing a woody scent.

“What about the grounding?” I asked, every inch of me sweating.

Casting certain spells came with physical consequences if a witch wasn’t grounded properly. It caused havoc back in the day, especially amongst overzealous witches.

“You’re already tough enough to withstand any kickback,” Ollie answered. “Being sacred means you don’t have to be grounded. You shouldn’t get much more than a headache. Call it a perk of your blood. But you to need to pay the tolls.”

“Up there!” I heard a voice cry.

“Shit,” Drake growled. “How’s it going over there?”

I read the spell.

Protect!

Requires heating the essence of pearl in a cauldron. Grounding requires a circle of sugar. A toll of white sage must be paid.

Once connection is established, clap the magic out while calling the word.

This spell requires a minimum of four witches in order to cast.

Solo casting is performed at own risk.

(For potion equivalent of this spell, turn to page 289).

Please don’t let my heart explode…

There was pounding on the door now, followed by voices yelling. No time to think, no time to question. Cast now, ask later.

“The runes won’t hold for long,” Ollie said, handing me the sage to galvanize me into action.

I tipped the sage into the cauldron, white smoke billowing in an instant.

Toll paid, magical connection established. The words on the paper glittered with blue light, as if a million fairy lights suddenly came to life beneath the ink.

Ready to go, those sparkles said.

I looked to Ollie. He nodded and darted off to join Drake at the door.

The parchment trembled in my grip, its magical properties alien yet comforting. This was mine, a part of me. Not just the celestial side, but the witch side, too.

Silvery-blue energy swirled around my hands, magic ready to be unleashed.

The door burst open, Marcus charging into the attic. Drake and Ollie roared as the shadow witch threw them aside with a, “Repel!”

They bounded off the walls, more shadow witches hurrying into the room.

Oh. Crap.

That eyeless mask locked onto me. “Give up. Come to me.” He extended his hand.

I swallowed a lump, dropping the parchment.

Here goes…

“Protect!” I slammed my hands together.