“Holland,” I say sternly.
He blinks several times, clearing his gaze. “Ava…” He shakes his head.
“Just tell me.”
“If they released the energy back into the earth, then they might be okay,” he says, ever hopeful that the witches finally did something right. Doesn’t he know them better by now? They never do what is right.
“And if they did not?”
He exhales sharply. “If they choose to keep the energy, to make themselves stronger—”
“Which I can see them doing,” I interrupt. And I know you can too.
“Well, if it is too much, they will not be able to contain it. They will die. Probably slowly.”
“And if it is not enough to actually kill them?”
“They will go mad,” he says. “Piece by piece, their psyches will collapse to a magic they were never meant to carry.”
I sink back into my chair, replaying our conversation over and over again in my mind. I would like to think I have not become so heartless that I would wish death on my former coven, but they have conditioned me to hate them. Now that I might get revenge, I am not sure how I feel. I know one thing, though. I will not rush over to warn them. They brought this doom on themselves.
“Ava, are you okay?” Holland asks, bringing me back to reality.
“For so long, I risked my life to protect them. This very thing terrified me. The thought of losing those who I loved…”
“It must be difficult to accept that your mother may die soon,” Holland says.
And all at once, the world stops spinning. My heart sinks deep into my stomach, where my food coma was already hardening into knots.
“What is it? Ava? What is wrong?” Holland says. He leans forward and grabs on to my hand. He grips it firmly, tightly, never loosening until I speak.
“I remember something,” I admit.
“What?” Holland asks, breathless.
“For them to perform this spell, I had to be linked to something earthly,” I say.
Holland frowns, processing my words.
“I was linked to my mother.”
Chapter Six
The walls of my bedroom are closing in on me. Slowly, they creep closer. The floorboards splinter and crack, giving way to a far greater force that has its sights set on me.
Even my bed frame, with its flowing waves of sheer fabric meant to symbolize an escape, looks like a prison. I try to envision the tropical paradise I once saw when I looked at this room, but I cannot see it. All at once, the world is crashing down, and it is taking me with it.
Desperately trying to calm my nerves, I run a hand against my neck, swiping away the moisture that is dripping down my back. What sweat I do not catch soaks into my T-shirt. Suddenly, I am acutely aware of how moist my clothes are. I am drenched in sweat from fear, from the mere thought of slowly descending into madness. I realize now that this will be my only awareness of it, for the insane do not know they are mad.
In these last moments of undeniable truth, I shake out my limbs and crack my neck, hoping to ease the growing tension swarming within me. Unfortunately, it does not work. Slowly, I am slipping into the unknown, and I cannot find my way out.
“Just relax,” I say to the empty bedroom.
I must maintain my composure. Already lost in a channel of nihility, I cannot jump into yet another pit. Darkness swarms all around me, threatening to overthrow what little sense I have left. I worry this is it. This is my last moment of peace.
I think this is what insanity looks like. I replay my conversation with Holland over and over again in my mind; it loops endlessly, and I cannot stop it. The moment he discovered my link to Mamá, Holland promised he would stop at nothing to sever it. He assured me I would not succumb to the witches’ affliction. I believed him. But now that he is gone and I am left with nothing but my looping thoughts, I am beginning to doubt him.
I stare down at my badly shaking hands.
“You need to calm down, Ava,” I say softly. “Get it together.”
I remind myself I will not die from this curse, and I will not go mad either. Holland is confident, but even as I attempt to convince myself, I am not so sure. I force myself to question everything and everyone.
Is Holland smart enough? Strong enough? Does he have enough connections to outsmart the witches? I imagine it is not easy to break a black magic spell, so why is he so sure he can figure out a way to save me?
“Stop!” I shout.
I must stop second-guessing my friends. They are not deserving of such disrespect. They are not the reason I am in this mess. I did this. I made this happen.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I think about what the witches have done. They are sociopaths and murderers, and it took such a severe betrayal for me to finally see them clearly. And when I look at them now, all I see is madness. But I know it is too soon for their behavior to be the effect of the spell. So if their normalcy looks like insanity, what is to come? What should I expect as this magic eats away at their insides, leaving only a dark, barren fissure where their hearts once beat?
I shiver when I think about falling victim to such vicious magic. This is why the black arts should never be dabbled with. Even a coven should not risk harnessing such power. It pains me to think Mamá felt as though she had no other choice than to cast such a dark spell. Does she hate me that much? She would risk not only my soul but hers as well? And what about the souls of her coven? Does she not care for anyone? Does she believe me to be such an abomination that all of Darkhaven must fall in order to be rid of me? How can I come from such a despicable woman? I hate to think it is her blood that runs through my veins.
I sigh and sink my head into my hands. My eyes swell from frustration, and my temples burn where I rub them profusely. I feel a headache coming, and I am desperate to save myself from yet another annoyance.
Ever since Mamá cast this spell, I have felt nothing but pain and fear. I want to feel strong again, to feel alive, to be free. I want to run with wolves and smell the flowers even in the dead of winter. I want to hear the moon and connect with spirit.
All I want is to envision myself as a vampire again, but when I close my eyes, I see the black hole expanding within me. The vampire I once was is gone. She is dead, a severed chain in my withering link to that other world. I miss my world of darkness and chaos. I want so desperately to be part of it again. I want to hunt with the vampires, to patrol Darkhaven and keep the humans safe from the witches. I want my life back.
I am an hour into my pity party when there is a soft knock on my bedroom door. I glance out my window. The sun has set, and night blankets the village. Immediately, I think of Malik. His deadline is up. It is time to save Will.
I jump to my feet and rush over to the door, eager to distract myself from my impending doom.
As soon as I grasp the doorknob, I hesitate. Do I tell Malik what Holland said? I shake my head at the thought. Of course I tell him. He needs to know. They all need to know what is to come. But when do I tell him? When do I tell Jasik?
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to cast out the images of my former sire. I cannot think about him right now. I do not want to remember the pain in his eyes, the hurt in his voice, or the fact that he sided with Amicia over me. He had his reasons. I am sure he assumed it would keep me out of trouble, and if Malik had not agreed to help, it just might have.