Keeper’s promise be damned.
“Still no sensing her?” Ethan asked, rolling up his sleeves.
None. Zero. Zilch. “No. She still wears her necklace. Until she removes it, I can’t track her or reach her.”
The necklace blocked him from her in a way that drove him crazy. He’d always had a connection to her unlike his brothers, until she’d cast a spell on her necklace, severing their connection eternally.
“Rose could do another locator spell?”
“Sienna’s already covered that angle, but I’ll chat to Rose again.”
“Any readings from Fly Boy?”
“Only that he works for Warrick.” Archer spun around to face his brother as a thought struck him. “If they know where she is, then I should be able to sense her through him.” He’d been too surprised to discover Warrick’s name that it hadn’t occurred to him at the time of the attack.
Ethan looked doubtful and glanced at the mess on the ground. “Not unless Fly Boy left a gift behind. Without something of his, you won’t make the connection.” He knelt, reached for a piece of broken glass, and studied it in silence. Straightening, he turned to look at Archer with a wide smile, and held out his hand to reveal the blood stained glass. “Blood should work?”
“You bet your ass it’ll work.”
Several minutes later, Archer’s fingers closed over the bloody glass with such force that his knuckles turned white. “Oh, God.”
Ethan’s gaze shot up to meet Archer’s, and he frowned when he saw his brother’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
“They have her.” Archer swallowed, trying to get a grip on the emotions triggered by the thought. “Those bastards have Sienna.”
Damn. Her attackers had given her Rose Thorn.
A useless herb for most, but to witches, the tiny plant had the ability to weaken and strip her of her powers.
Sienna was furious. For two years, she’d packaged her powers in a neat little box and stored them away until the day she’d need them again.
Today, she needed them – really needed them – but the herb had ravished her, destroying any chances of accessing them. For now anyway.
The loss of control unnerved her. It was one thing choosing not to channel her powers. Being stripped of that choice was another thing entirely.
She glanced around the room, trying to make sense of where they’d taken her. An abandoned house – sparsely furnished, darkened windows. The stuff horror movies were made of. Of everything, the quiet surroundings frightened her. Without her powers, she had little chance of freeing herself from these men and a little neighbourly assistance would have been nice.
“She’s awake,” her first attacker said, the man from the park, motioning toward her.
“Who are you?” she asked, but had to clear her throat. God, she was so thirsty.
“Call me Harper.”
She eyed Harper, sizing him up. Where he lacked height, he made up with bulk and attitude. The man had a menacing aura around him that had Sienna immediately on edge. She glanced at the other two men skulking in the background. It didn’t take rocket science to figure out who was running this circus.
Trying not to wince, she struggled to her feet, but her legs buckled beneath her and she slumped against the tattered couch. Before she could try again, Harper had his booted foot on her back.
“Down, witch.”
“Brave to mess with a Beckham witch, aren’t you?”
“Stupid to walk without your Keepers, aren’t you?”
“What do you want with me?”
He smiled, but the smile held more evil than amusement. “Warrick Brogan has big plans for you.”
The warlock’s name sent an instant chill down her spine and Sienna had to concentrate on masking her surprise. It was hard to think that the man had once been a friend to her and the Bennett brothers. Now, the mention of his name made her stomach clench. “Warrick Brogan can kiss my ass.”
“Now who’s brave?”
“I’m not afraid of you.” She was pleased that her voice sounded steady, even though her insides were rolling.
Harper waved the syringe at her. “You should be. Without your powers, you’re no challenge to us.”
“And without me, my powers are of no use to you so why am I here?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” He sat on the table in front of her, the ancient wood creaking beneath his weight, and leaned closer. “You’re a witch from a lineage of even more powerful witches. What’s the one thing we could possibly want?”
The Beckham Grimoire.
Sienna’s heart sank. Of course. She should’ve known this was about the damn book. She was destined to keep her family’s Grimoire safe – a thick book of handwritten notes that listed all the rituals, spells, potions, formulas, and magical properties ever used by a Beckham witch. To someone like Warrick Brogan, the book was lethal.
And everything her parents and Archer’s parents had fought for, and eventually died for, would be for nothing.
Their vision of a life where supernatural people could live in harmony with ordinary people would truly be up in flames.
Over a century ago, six families: the Bennetts, the Beckhams, the Brogans, and three other, ordinary families had founded Rapid Falls, a small abandoned area once thought to have an abundance of mystical energy. Over time, they’d established a thriving community.
Their agreement had been simple. They lived and worked in harmony and kept any supernatural tendencies a secret. No harming humans, no public displays of supernatural abilities. For the longest time, their agreement had worked, until a few generations later; Warrick’s parents had developed a different vision. Instead of a peaceful existence, their vision consisted of freedom, control, and exposure. A feud had broken out, altering their friendship circle forever. In the end, her parents and Archer’s parents had lost the battle.
Sienna still remembered the fire as vividly as though it had just happened. The image of her house engulfed in thick orange flames and the horror of knowing their parents were inside had affected her forever.
When suspicion had fallen on Warrick’s parents, they’d left town. Then, in a brutal car accident, they died – leaving Brogan and Warrick as orphans, and taking the truth of the fire to the grave.
It hadn’t been long before the two brothers had made it clear that they shared the same views as their parents and would do anything, hurt anyone, in order to have the freedom and control their parents had fought for.
Like hell.
She would die before she handed over her Grimoire.
“I don’t have it,” she said firmly, shoving away the anger and resentment stewing inside.
“But you know where it is and according to the legend, we need a Beckham witch to open it. Warrick seems to think you’ll also know the location of all four stones.”
“Chasing the book is like chasing a rainbow. You’ll never get close, and you’ll certainly never hit gold.”
“It exists and we’ll not only find it, Sienna, we’ll open it.”
She touched a hand to her pounding head, willing