Page 1 of Twilight Echoes (A New Dawn #7)

PROLOGUE

NINETEEN YEARS AGO…

R egan Wilcox folded her arms and narrowed her eyes as she watched the little lady brat, Avery, dance with Darrell during a technique seminar and audition for placement not only in the ballet company but classes for the following session. With only one spot left in the advanced junior level, Regan would be damned to see it go to a five-year-old before her. At eleven years old, this was Regan’s last chance. She’d be sent to the advanced competition group if she didn't make it this year. The kiss of death for a girl who wanted to be a principal ballerina someday.

Darrell held Avery in a pose, staring into her eyes as if she were the air he breathed.

The water he drank.

He looked at her as if she were the sun rising in the east and he was her sky.

Regan wanted to gag. She was better suited to be Darrell’s partner… in dance and in life. He’d made the company when he’d been six, and now, at eleven, many choreographers wanted him to perform in their companies.

Regan narrowed her eyes. The goddamn wolf was imprinting on the royal witch, and there wasn’t anything Regan could do to stop it.

The stupid little girl had no idea she’d just been marked and claimed by a wolf. Regan searched her mind for a spell that would destroy Avery and her talent, but Avery’s father, the prince, held so much power. Regan was sure he’d know someone had cast a spell and then find out who, which would be one of the worst crimes a witch could commit against another witch. She might be only eleven, but that was the kind of atrocity that would get her powers stripped.

Besides, it was Darrell who chose Avery as his future mate, and he should suffer for his mistake. Avery should end up an old spinster, and her prince father wouldn’t ever know what Regan had done.

When the music stopped, the room erupted in applause. The teacher smiled and ran to Avery, hugging her close, kissing her cheek, and cooing about how wonderful she had performed.

“You’re something special,” the teacher said, cupping her chin. “I know you’re going to go far, isn’t she, Darrell?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Darrell said, smiling, his arm still looped around Avery’s tiny little waist. She looked dwarfed next to Darrell.

Regan chomped down on the inside of her mouth, conjuring up the spells from the forbidden Book of Shadows her father kept locked in a safe in his office. He’d lied to the world about its existence and hid it from the eyes of the royal family and council. It was forbidden to keep such a book unregistered. However, her family had always been on the fringe, living under the umbrella of royals and their so-called greatness. Her father resented it but never used his dark magic to do anything about it, and in her eyes, that made him weak. Pathetic. What was the point in having a Book of Shadows if one had no intention of ever unleashing its power?

Her father had no idea she even knew he had it.

But she did and it was high time she yielded the potency of the spells their ancestors worked so hard to perfect.

“Well, well, well,” the director waltzed into the studio, her arms stretched wide. “That was magnificent.” She hugged the duo. “Darrell, your career is about to take off like nothing you could have prepared for. And you…” She bent over, cupping Avery’s cheeks. “…are going to be the youngest protégée we’ve ever had in our dance company. I’ve got big plans for you.”

Regan willed the tears forming in her eyes to disappear. All her years of hard work gone in an instant. Half the class eyed her, knowing this had been her last shot. No way would she stay in this room a second longer and watch her dreams fall on the shoulders of a five-year-old.

Regan stormed out of the studio and hid in the bushes by the back door in the rear parking lot, where Darrell waited every day to be picked up by his parents.

It was time he paid for his betrayal.

She knew the spell she needed to use. It would take years for it to take full effect, but it would be well worth it.

Darrell stepped out of the building, glancing over his shoulder and waving to someone.

Probably Avery.

It was now or never.

“Out of the cauldron and into the heart, take this wolf and make the end start. Out of the cauldron and into the flame, take the touch of the wolf’s paw and make it maim. With every pump of his blood that is blind, destroy him of his talent and kind. From years of humdrum, his pack will succumb,” Regan whispered, waving her hands, pushing the clear puff of smoke at Darrell, watching it slip into his body.

A damp chill settled into her bones. A sharp pain ripped through her joints as she watched Darrell and his family drive off. She hobbled out of the bush, staring at her crumpled, twisted fingers. They looked like her great-grandmother’s hands. Old, wrinkly, and mangled. Her toes curled. Her knees twisted.

She sat on the bench. Her limbs became dead weight. Her skin turned saggy and hung like a dress five sizes too big. She blinked, unable to bring the world into focus.

Her older sister and one of the student teachers stepped outside.

“Oh my God. Regan?” Her sister raced to her side. “What have you done!”

“Nothing,” Regan said weakly. Her skin heated as if someone had pricked her with hot needles everywhere. She knew black magic had its price, but she hadn’t expected it to be so high.

Or so quick.

“Did you use black magic?” her sister asked.

Regan nodded.

“Please tell me you didn’t do something to Lady Avery,” her sister said.

Regan’s tongue was thick, like a brick. She could barely speak, much less move her head, but she managed to give it a slight shake.

“I’m calling Dad,” her sister said. “He might be able to reverse the effects of whatever black magic spell you cast.”

Regan’s heartbeat slowed to a painful pace. “It’s too late,” she whispered.