Mundo ficciónIniciar sesión
“Spirits from the other side…
…hear my words, hear my cry…
Only one of you we do seek…
…a mother of two, whose secrets still sleep…
We ask you to cross the great divide…
…to share the truth you chose to hide.”
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until I felt Asher’s eyes on my face. Still, I couldn’t exhale. There was this part of me that was terrified I’d be disappointed, that the worst would happen, and she wouldn’t come.
Through all the fights I loved the mother I knew, but I wished she were here to tell me this herself.
Cordelia repeated her chant a second time, and then a third. The air around us was thick and heavy, like a tangible substance that weighed us down. I watched as Breyona wiped the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her hoodie. She pointed at it and grimaced, regret in her eyes. Asher was stoic, his
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Asher would’ve killed him on the spot with only my word as evidence. That was how much he trusted me, how much he wanted to protect me. The gut-feeling twisting and tearing into my stomach like razor blades was telling me to scream for my mate—or worse, tear Lars’s throat out myself. I had to keep my cool, especially at a bake sale for a girl who had just been murdered. There was no way I could cause a scene. I couldn’t accuse Lars of something like this with nothing more than a hazy memory of black boots and a gut-feeling that set off a symphony of alarms in my head. His lips curved up in an amused smile, which was my only warning that I had taken too long to answer. Keeping my eyes on his face and not on his boots was excruciating, but I wasn’t sure if he had seen me look the first time. If this gut-feeling of mine was correct—which both witches said it would be, then that meant Lars was connected to all of this. Perhaps he was a puppet and
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