Page 39 of Untraced Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #1)

Morgan

Darkness haunted me from beneath my eyelids, cold palming my cheek as damp air crept over my skin. A shiver curled my legs to my chest, the pads of my fingers scraping against a grainy surface.

My lips stuttered as I drew in a breath.

Why was I so cold?

I ran my tongue over my lips, coating them with what felt like heaven. A light flickered. My thick lashes struggled to open as if rising from a deep slumber, but when the fog clouding my sight finally cleared, confusion startled me, pinning me in place.

Stone walls surrounded me on three sides. The fourth, a wall of steel bars, my only chance of freedom if ever I was granted it. My dress lay splayed around me, its silk now creased and edged with smudges, and I slid my legs underneath me, wincing as my bare feet dragged over uneven ground.

Where was I?

My head felt heavy, like sleep could take me at any moment, and I rubbed at my temples as if it could ease the pain tearing through my skull .

Climbing to my feet, grit crunched between my toes as I stumbled over to the bars, my palms closing around them to steady myself. I slammed my eyes shut as the room began to blur, clinging to the bars as if they could keep me conscious. I blinked, then blinked again, until my vision slowly cleared.

I forced a wad of air down my throat as my eyes adjusted to my dim surroundings, dread sinking to the pit of my stomach. A chamber of cells lined the opposite wall, the same as the one currently holding me captive.

I looked like I was in a basement. Or even worse, a dungeon…

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I cried out into a rigid silence. “Somebody, help me!” I shrieked, pushing and pulling against the bars, my desperate attempts to move them useless.

My magic.

I wrapped my fingers around the bars with purpose this time.

Focused.

I pulled on the light I knew would help me, while the dark I’d felt, the first time I used it tipped its head in laughter.

Forcing my magic into my hands, I let it consume me. I pictured Tyler, the focus and strength I needed, just like we had practiced. I forced the magic from me, but it remained stagnant, rebounding against my skin.

What the hell?

I pushed again, but nothing happened.

The dark side of my magic mocked me. Baited me to use it, but it seemed if I wanted to, it would be pointless.

Why could I not use my magic ?

Scuffing drew my attention from somewhere nearby.

“Is someone there?” I yelled.

More shuffling, followed by a moan.

The air stilled in my lungs.

“Who’s there? Hello? Where are we?”

An eerie silence hung in the air. The kind that spiked the hairs on the back of your neck and slithered down your spine.

A voice came from somewhere, stiffening the already raised hairs on my bare arms.

“There’s no way out. Don’t bother,” it rasped.

Male.

“Who are you? Why are we here?” I asked. “How long have you been here?” The questions barreled out of me in a lone breath.

“Many years.”

The voice lacked energy. Void of hope.

My back scraped down the wall until I hit the floor, my knees pulling to my chest.

“You must have something she wants,” he said.

“ She ?” I pressed.

Another pause.

“Someone you must never give in to. A witch.”

“But what does she want?” I wrapped my hands around my legs in an attempt to keep warm.

“Magic. If it runs through your veins, you must protect it.”

I let my head fall against the wall. Of course. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Did she take yours?”

There was a brief pause. Then, “Yes. ”

The despair in his voice itched my skin. I needed to get out of here. Had to find a way.

I looked beyond the bars to the window beyond reach, my only escape route being the large door that led to who knew where.

“Why does she want other people’s magic?” I asked the stranger.

“As she gains more power, she gets stronger.”

“But for what reason?”

“She wants to open the portal to the Underworld. Believes that light and dark can live as one.”

I’d heard of portals in movies, but hell, it didn’t surprise me they were a thing, too. I didn’t want to think about what existed in this Underworld he spoke of. His words clung to the damp air that lay dormant in the room.

Although I couldn’t see this man, I felt his dismay choking the life from his soul.

It scared me to think it could claim mine, too.

“How did she take your magic?” I said quietly.

A long silence followed.

“There are very few people who can take one’s magic and force it on another. No one in their right mind would do it, but given the right circumstances, anything is possible.”

His words chilled my insides.

This was some sick and twisted reality that apparently, I was to be a part of.

My head lifted as a heavy clunk vibrated off the walls, the large lock on the wooden door sliding across .

In walked a woman with sleek hair held back by a tight low knot, her cheek bones hollowed and skin ghastly pale. I stilled, an icy chill coating my skin as realization hit me. The woman from my nightmares. Her manicured fingertips of black whipped in the air as she spoke to someone behind her.

“Bring her to me,” she ordered.

Her voice scraped my spine like sandpaper on my skin, causing a shudder to move over me.

She stepped to the side, revealing a figure behind her. I could tell by the fit of the jeans, the way they balanced on narrow hips, that the figure was male. There was a vague familiarity about the stranger, even as a black hoodie covered his face.

When his head angled up to look at me, my gaze locked onto a set of green eyes I placed instantly.

Everything became clearer, the last few moments in the library returning to me.

“Wesley?” I whispered.

He barely looked at me. Remained silent.

Why was he in different clothes? How long had I been here?

The woman passed Wesley a large key, and I watched as he took it. His head dipped low.

“Wesley? I don’t understand…” I trailed off, unable to make sense of what was happening.

He didn’t lift his eyes from the ground as he walked to the door, sliding the solid key into the lock of my cell. He pushed the door open, and it groaned as it swung wide .

“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he said, his tone flat.

“Wes!” I said with urgency this time. “What the hell is going on?”

He moved toward me, but I couldn’t decipher the look on his face. Was that desperation?

I didn’t understand his reason for being part of this. How could he do this? To me? To Tyler? He’d known Tyler since they were kids. None of it made any sense.

His hand gripped my upper arm, and I tried to shove him off, pushing and pulling against his grasp, but his grip held tight. I tried every move known to me, my fists pounding into his chest repeatedly, but it was no use. His strength overwhelmed me.

I lowered my voice so only he could hear me. “Don’t do this, whatever this is. Whatever is going on, we can fix this. Ty would do anything for you, you know that.”

Wes faltered, an almost pained expression tormenting his face before it disappeared just as quickly, before manhandling me from the cell. It was then I got to see the face of the stranger I’d been speaking to between solid walls.

His beard concealed his mouth and long hair tangled over his ears. The eyes that sank into his frail form were fierce, slashing imaginary scars into the woman’s sides.

“Let her go, don’t do this,” he said, stumbling to his feet, his milk-white knuckles wrapped around the bars.

She ignored him as if he was never there. “It’s time,” she said with a twirl of her finger. Wesley stiffened beside me. “ Come along.”

He nudged me forward and I tried to escape from his grip again, but he held firm. I turned back to look at him, forced my face closer until my breath muddled with his, staring daggers at him, imagined piercing his bright green eyes with my nails until they bled.

“Tyler will kill you if anything happens to me,” I hissed.

His voice dipped low. “Just do as she asks. Please .”

“What the fuck?” I side-eyed him, my head spinning in confusion.

He edged me onwards, my bare feet inching forward as he maneuvered us into a large room that resembled a church.

The building was a fortress of stone, layers upon more layers of gray, like depression had embedded itself in its block walls. But the unused smell hit me first and foremost. Musty. I could almost feel the dust rising through my nostrils.

My head turned to the front of the room, where the brown-haired woman sat on a throne-like bench, one knee crossed over the other.

Who was she?

I wrestled against Wesley’s grip to no avail, my efforts swiftly rewarded by his arms wrapping around my front, holding me in place.

“Behave,” Wes hissed against my ear.

I threw him another death glare over my shoulder. “Fuck you!” I spat, trying to shove my elbow into his side.

I turned my attention back to the woman, who watched me with intrigue.

I wouldn’t let her see my fear and stood tall, straightening my shoulders, chin raised .

“What do you want from me?” I demanded.

She surveyed her nails, flicking between each one. “That’s not the way to address your mother, dear.”

My what? No fucking way.

Only then did her resemblance to the image I looked at in the mirror become clear.

It couldn’t be. Helena .

“You will never be my mother. A real mother wouldn’t do this to her own child,” I seethed, wrestling against Wesley again.

She let out a frivolous laugh. “Wesley mentioned you were a feisty one.”

I ignored the comment.

“Morgan, my darling, you were taken from me so many years ago, and I believe you and I are one in the same.”

“Like hell we are!” I exclaimed.

To think after all these years, I’d longed to know who my mother was, had imagined one day we would be reunited in a story I would one day tell my children.

What a joke. I’d wasted pockets of my time, not to mention sleep on something that was clearly never going to happen. Until I moved to Cutters Cove, love had abandoned me, my birth parents having been nonexistent and my adoptive ones now dead.