Page 9 of The Demon’s Sinful Serenade (Silvermist Mates #6)

River looked unconvinced, but some of the defensiveness left her posture.

"So, what do we do?" she asked.

"We perform a banishment," Miranda said simply. She frowned and added with a grumble, "I didn't bring any supplies for this kind of work, though."

"It's fine," I said. "Rava can take you back to Grimstone if you need anything."

Hannah shook her head. "I'm not worried about supplies. I'm worried about having something of Julian's for the ritual."

All eyes turned to River.

"Did you keep anything that belonged to him?" Poppy asked. "Something personal?"

River hesitated, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a guitar pick. "He gave me this after we wrote our first song. Said it was for luck."

"That should work. Especially since it was a gift freely given," Miranda confirmed. "If you're ready, we can begin preparations."

RIVER

The training room of the Kadhan compound felt too large and too small at the same time.

Miranda traced a complex chalk pattern in the center of the room, her movements focused and unhurried. The white lines formed interlocking circles, symbols branching off in some arcane language I'd never bothered to learn. Music was my realm, not magic.

I sat cross-legged against the wall, guitar balanced on my knees, plucking nervously at the strings.

My fingers moved automatically, muscle memory taking over while my mind raced.

Was I really about to face Julian? After a year of nightmares and guilt and grief that had hollowed me out, would I finally see him again? The thought made me nauseous.

Hannah knelt opposite Miranda, arranging candles and crystals at specific points while Poppy walked the perimeter, burning something that smelled like sage and muttering under her breath. They moved with such confidence, like this wasn't completely insane.

A shadow fell across me as Zane slid down the wall beside me, our shoulders almost touching. The heat radiating from his skin was oddly comforting.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said quietly. "We could find another way."

I shook my head, not looking up from my guitar. "There is no other way. Julian won't stop until he destroys everything I care about."

"You care about your career that much?"

My fingers stilled on the strings. The question caught me off guard.

It wasn't just about my music anymore, though that had been my initial focus.

"I'm so tired of being afraid. I need to do this.

I need to take back control of my life." I finally looked up at him, searching his golden eyes for understanding. "What if it doesn't work?"

"Then we'll try something else."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"We keep trying until something does." He shrugged as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "That's what I do."

I stared at him, looking for the lie, the false reassurance. But there wasn't one to be found. He meant every word. "Just like that? You'd keep going?"

"Just like that."

My gaze dropped to his mouth, remembering our kiss from earlier. For a heartbeat, I considered leaning in, seeking that connection again. The urge to close the distance between us was nearly overwhelming. I could almost taste him again, feel the heat of his skin against mine.

Not now. Not here.

"We're ready," Miranda called, breaking the moment.

I set my guitar aside with careful hands, suddenly terrified of what came next. Zane rose first, offering his hand to help me up. I hesitated before taking it, his skin burning hot against mine. The contact sent a strange flutter through my chest, and I fought the urge to hold on tighter.

"Just remember," he murmured close to my ear, "whatever happens, whatever you see or hear, I'm right here."

We approached the elaborate ritual setup, and Zane frowned. "We're all supposed to fit in there?"

"Just the two of you," Hannah said, holding up a black candle. "We'll work from the outside."

My hand tightened around Zane's. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it, but I couldn't bring myself to let go.

"What do we need to do?" I asked, proud that my voice didn't shake.

"Stand in the center and don't break the circle," Miranda instructed. "No matter what happens, stay inside until we tell you it's safe."

"And if something goes wrong?" Zane asked.

Miranda's eyes met his, deadly serious. "Then I'll tell you when to grab her and teleport out."

That was apparently good enough for Zane, but it did nothing to calm the panic rising in my throat. He guided me into the circle, positioning himself slightly in front of me. The protective gesture wasn't subtle, but I found I didn't mind.

Hannah approached with the black candle. Julian's name had been carved into the black wax, and my guitar pick— his —was embedded near the wick. My stomach twisted at the sight of it. She placed the candle in the center of the other circle, then rejoined the others outside the chalk lines.

The witches positioned themselves around us, forming a triangle with Zane and me in the center. They joined hands and began to chant, their voices weaving together in a harmony that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

The temperature in the room dropped. I shivered, my breath visible in small clouds. The candles flickered to life, their flames stretching tall before shrinking to pinpoints of light.

"Julian Rathaway," Miranda called, her voice resonating with authority. "By name and token, we summon you."

Nothing happened at first. Then the shadows in the corners of the room began to move, sliding across the floor like spilled ink. They gathered at the edge of Julian's circle, pressing against the barrier like curious animals testing a fence.

"Julian Rathaway," Hannah repeated. "By blood and breath, we command you to appear."

The black candle's flame ignited on its own, the flame burning blue. The air grew thick, heavy with something that tasted like old pennies and stale cigarettes.

Julian's favorite brand , I realized with a jolt. The ones he always bummed from the sound guys.

"Julian Rathaway," Poppy's voice joined in. "By bond and memory, we bring you forth."

The shadows convulsed, then shot upward, forming a column of darkness that slowly sank toward the blue flame. I pressed against Zane's back, my hands gripping his shirt. He reached behind him, finding my hip and holding me steady.

The darkness took shape. A man's silhouette, indistinct at first, then sharpening into features I knew better than my own. He wasn't solid, more like a projection made of smoke and malice, but he was undeniably Julian.

"River." His voice sounded wrong, like it was coming through water or static. "Always hiding behind someone else."

My throat closed up. He looked exactly as he had the last time I saw him alive. Thin and pale, eyes rimmed with shadows, but still beautiful in that haunted way that had drawn so many to him. A year of guilt and grief crashed over me in waves.

"Julian," I managed to say.

His attention fixed on me, ignoring Zane completely. "Did you think you could get rid of me that easily? After everything I did for you?"

"You're dead, Julian," I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. "You need to move on."

He laughed, the sound distorted and cruel. "Move on? When you're still using my songs? Still riding on my talent?"

"They were our songs," I countered, but my voice cracked. "We wrote them together."

"I made you," Julian hissed, his form rippling with anger. "You wanted to be the star. You couldn't stand sharing the spotlight. Without me, you're nothing."

I flinched as if he'd slapped me. The words echoed those from our last fight the night before he died. The night I walked away.

"That's not true," I whispered, but doubt crept in like poison.

"Isn't it?" Julian paced within the confines of his circle, his movement fluid as smoke. "Look at you now. Hiding in your hometown. Begging for scraps at that pathetic festival. You need me. You've always needed me."

Zane shifted, blocking more of Julian's view of me. His body radiated heat against the chill Julian brought with him. The gesture wasn't lost on Julian, whose eyes narrowed.

"Another replacement?" Julian sneered. "Another warm body to make you feel like you matter?"

"That's enough," Zane growled.

Miranda stepped forward, her hands raised. "Julian Rathaway, your time in this realm is done. By our will and power, we banish you to your rightful rest."

The ghost's attention snapped to Miranda, his form billowing with rage. "You can't control me, witch."

"We don't need to control you," Hannah said. "Only send you where you belong."

He lunged toward me, only to be repelled by an invisible barrier. The force of it sent him reeling back.

The three witches began another chant, their voices weaving together. Julian's form wavered, parts of him seeming to unravel like thread pulled from a sweater.

"River," he called, his voice taking on a desperate edge. "You know you'll never be happy without me. We were meant to be together. You belong to me."

Zane moved fully in front of me now, shielding me from Julian's gaze. "You don't own her, asshole."

Julian's face contorted with fury. The temperature plummeted further, and frost formed on the metal equipment around the room. Wind howled from nowhere, whipping around us in a frenzy.

"Julian Rathaway," the witches intoned together, "we break your ties to this realm. We sever your connection to the living. We command you to depart."

"River!" he shouted. "This isn't over! You'll never be free of me!"

The wind swirled around the circle, picking up speed until it became a howling vortex. My hair lashed against my face. My guitar case toppled over, spilling its contents across the floor.

The black candle at our feet erupted into a pillar of flame that shot toward the ceiling. Julian screamed, the sound inhuman and filled with rage. His form stretched, thinned, and then collapsed in on itself like a dying star.

"You're mine," he spat as he faded. "You'll always be mine."

Then he was gone, and the candle extinguished itself with a final, violent hiss.

"Is it... is he gone?" I asked, my voice small in the sudden quiet.

Miranda nodded, her face drawn with exhaustion. "I can't feel him anymore."

I broke away from Zane, rushing to where my guitar had been knocked over. My hands shook as I checked for damage. The instrument seemed unharmed, though picks, capos, and other accessories lay scattered across the floor.

"It's okay," I breathed, relief washing over me. "It's okay."

Poppy knelt beside me, helping gather the scattered items. "Are you?"

"I think so." I wasn't sure if I was lying. I wasn't sure what I felt at all.

Hannah joined us, collecting a few guitar picks that had skidded under a nearby bench. "These rituals can be draining. You should rest."

The witches began dismantling their ritual setup, erasing chalk lines and collecting crystals. Hannah and Miranda discussed the strength of the banishment while Poppy offered me quiet reassurance. I barely heard them, Julian's words still echoing in my head.

Without me, you're nothing.

You'll never be happy without me.

You're mine. You'll always be mine.

Was he right? Would I never escape his shadow? Zane crouched beside me, close enough that I could reach for him if I needed to, but not so close that I felt crowded.

The witches finished gathering their supplies and said their goodbyes with gentle squeezes to my shoulder and promises from me to check in tomorrow. When the door clicked shut behind them, I turned to Zane, guitar case clutched in my white-knuckled grip.

"Ready to go?" he asked softly.

I looked up at him, really looked at him. His golden eyes held concern without the wariness I'd grown accustomed to seeing. No calculation of how much damage I might cause, no pity or judgment. Just a fierce attention that made me feel seen in ways I'd forgotten were possible.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm ready."