Sacrificed (The Ignited Series) (11 page)

“Listen to me, Kris,” Nathan said, his hard grip on my chin softening into a gentle caress of my cheek. “I want you here. I need you here. Don’t you give up on fighting this just because you think it’s fate’s plan. I’m sure as hell not going to stop fighting for you.”

“Nathan—” I didn’t really know what to say to that, and I didn’t get a chance to make something up, because he interrupted me.

“No,” he said forcefully. “I don’t want to hear anything like that come out of your mouth again. You’re here for a reason. As much as I hate to admit it, I think Micah might be onto something. With you, him, and Alec all fighting on the same side? This war could finally end. Maybe
that
is fate’s plan for you.”

My mouth opened, but any attempt at a reply was shut down by his finger to my lips, and I knew he had more to say, so I bit back my weak argument. Something told me I wouldn’t get anywhere with negativity anyway. Not with him—Mr. Optimistic.

“Am I glad that Lillian was turned? No,” he continued, “but I’m also not standing here, wishing for the ability to go back and change things, wishing that the last seven years had been different. It sucked when I thought she died. A lot. But I also moved on, Kris. I’m not trying to rewrite the past, and I’m sure as hell not going to dwell on it. What’s happened as a result of all of this, all that we’ve gone through, all that Lillian has gone through, has led us to where we are right now. And honestly, I’m happy where I’m at.”

He hesitated, sucked in a deep breath, and held my gaze firmly as he concluded the best damn pep talk in the history of pep talks. “I’m glad I’m here with you now. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’m glad everything that’s happened between us happened, and because of that, I wouldn’t change anything. And I need you to fight, with me, with all of us. We’ve come so far, you can’t give up now.”

Any response to his words was lost to me. They were just too amazing to respond to. They filled me with a sense of hope I hadn’t felt in months. For that, and for so many other reasons, I was hit with an overwhelming desire to kiss him.

And I was pretty sure he wanted to kiss me too. His head dropped ever so slightly toward mine, and I knew it was going to happen when his gaze lowered to my lips and he licked his own in preparation.

I wasn’t left disappointed.

It was a perfect kiss to follow his perfect words. It was everything I needed—soft and delicate—like he knew I was in a sensitive place and needed a sensitive kiss, full of reassurance and promise. The gentle brush of his lips across mine was mirrored by the soft caresses of my face in his hands. Pent up desire brewed just under the surface, waiting and wanting release, but he held it in check, like he knew that wasn’t the type of kiss I needed right now. He knew what he was doing and, good God, did he do it well. So well, that my response went from grateful to full on hot and bothered in a matter of seconds.

Nathan pulled back, my face still in his hands, and pressed his forehead to mine as if to cool down. I wasn’t sure if he intended to cool himself down, or me—maybe both—but when his eyes met mine, I saw the war raging behind them, and the decision in them when he made it.

His mouth crashed into mine with a definite urgency. What he had been holding back just a moment ago burst free, and I knew that this kiss was going to be even better than the last.

Too bad Callie had the uncanny ability to ruin just about every moment Nathan and I had alone anymore. As the sound of her footsteps stopped in the doorway, Nathan practically hurled himself halfway across the room from me. Not that it mattered. From the look on Callie’s face, it was obvious she had already seen us. And felt bad about the interruption.

She hovered uneasily just inside the door, looking back and forth between the two of us. “I’m
sorry. Again,” she added with a small chuckle. She pointed over her shoulder. “Micah called. They found something downstairs.”

I glanced at Nathan. His eyes met mine briefly before darting away. As much as that kiss was still on both of our minds, I could tell he was curious about this
something downstairs
. As was I.

“There’s nothing up here,” he concluded. With a nod of his head, he motioned for me to follow Callie out of the room. He caught me at the door. Callie was ahead of us, and out of earshot. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter why Lillian was changed. Not anymore.”

My nod of acceptance came up short when he leaned in and touched his lips to my forehead. He lingered for only a second before ushering me the rest of the way through the door, after Callie, which was hard to do now that my legs felt like lead.

Callie had turned to wait for us, and her eyes danced with a silent question when they met mine. I returned a smile meant just for her, my own silent promise to give her details later. That smile fell quickly when my eyes found Alec’s from across the room, and despite all the joy I felt, another little piece of my heart broke.

CHAPTER 10

We found the others on the opposite side of the warehouse, in a small room tucked away from everything else like it was on purpose. From the looks of the room, I understood why. Whatever this room had been used for, it was something different, something secretive. Something disturbing.

It gave off a bad vibe, and I rubbed my hands over my arms as if to protect myself from whatever evil lingered inside. The addition of red streaks on the walls, which I really hoped was paint, the mounds of various shapes and sizes of candles, and the perfectly drawn symbols on the floor added to the mystery. I’d only seen symbols like that in movies…usually of the really disturbing, devil-worshipping type.

A few of the larger candles were still lit, providing us with just enough light to see that something ritualistic-like had been going on in this room. If not devil-worship, then something equally alarming.

“This is where they did it, isn’t it?” I asked no one in particular. Micah looked up from where he was crouched in a corner of the room, looking at additional floor markings, and I focused on his gaze. “This is where they did the Kala-to-Skotadi conversions?”

Micah nodded, but no one said anything, as they all had seemingly reached the same conclusion, and were silently mulling over the discovery. It was a good discovery, one that we have been looking and waiting for.

If only we could figure out what the things in the room had to do with the conversions. I’d
always suspected they involved a drink of tainted Kook-Aid. But this? This suggested a level I had not considered. Something I’d been severely unprepared for.

What in the hell were we dealing with?

Alec ran a hand hesitantly over the streaks on the wall, apparently wondering as I had about the origination. “It’s blood,” he announced softly, sending every bone in my spine into its very own dance.

“To summon the gods,” Micah added, his voice eerily calm. From his little corner of the room, a candle flickered and he turned to us with it to light up the rest of the room. “For Incantation. They’re using Incantation to do it.”

Nathan and Alec both scoffed in response to Micah’s idea, but I was curious. I’d heard that word before, hadn’t I? Micah had told me about it, when I’d asked him how I was able to share dreams with him if I weren’t a prophet.

“Witchcraft?” I asked timidly. “They’re using
witchcraft?
”

No one was quick to answer. Finally, Micah amended, “Spells. They’re using the elements to
summon the gods with spells. If the gods are invoked in the right way, they will aid you in whatever you ask of them. There are different spells to achieve certain…things, but I’ve never heard of a spell for this.”

Yeah, sounded like witchcraft to me. So the Skotadi were using some form of witchcraft and magic—Incantation, as it was known in the hybrid’s world—to do their conversions, and were using the help of the gods? That didn’t sound good. Not to me. Nor did it sound as farfetched as Alec and Nathan were acting.

“So, this is all witchcraft?” I asked, spreading my arms out to indicate the room.

“No way,” Alec interjected before Micah could answer. “Only kooks think Incantation exists.”

“There’s no solid proof that it exists,” Nathan added, surprisingly in agreement with Alec. I doubted I would ever get used to seeing the two of them being on the same side of any disagreement, but if anything could bring them closer, it would be their mutual dislike of Micah.

“It’s nothing but a myth,” Alec concluded.

“Our entire world, our existence, is all based on myths,” Micah returned. He gestured to the candles and the glass jars filled with various objects and materials. I expected to see a jar filled with eyeballs somewhere, but didn’t. Granted, I was afraid to look too closely, just in case there was one hidden there somewhere.

“This stuff is all used in Incantation,” Micah continued, “to call upon the gods. Whatever they were calling them for was done in this room, and it was something big, something we need to pay attention to. Only a very powerful Incantator could be capable of this, and we can’t blow that off.”

“The Skotadi don’t do Incantation,” Alec insisted. “I would know if they were.”

“Just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” Micah said.

“If Incantators are out there, don’t you think we would have heard about them by now?” Nathan argued.

“What about the legends?” Micah countered. “There are centuries’ worth of stories. W
hat if there are so few Incantators that they’re easy to hide? And maybe they don’t even know what they’re capable of until they try it, and then they can’t talk about it, for fear of being ostracized.”

As he stated his defense, Micah glanced in my direction. As usual, the heaviness of his gaze unsettled me, but the look he gave me now was different from the others. It wasn’t deep and penetrating, but rather scared and uneasy, like we shared a shocking secret that I wasn’t technically in on.

I cleared my throat to break the hold Micah had on me. “Why is it so hard to believe the Skotadi capable of Incantation?” I asked of Alec and Nathan, since they were the two dead-set against the idea.

From what I’ve seen and heard so far, Micah had a good argument. The room looked like a voodoo shop.

Nathan answered me. “There are a few gods and goddesses capable of working magic, but none of them procreated with humans. None of our bloodlines are linked to them, so it’s not possible for hybrids to have that specialty.” He looked at Micah as he emphasized the last few words.

Okay. I
understood their reasoning. But why were they so against the idea of their history being wrong? It wasn’t that ridiculous to consider the existence of a previously unknown Incantation bloodline out there somewhere, being kept secret, as Micah suggested.

“There’s more to it than that,” I said, surprised at how confident my voice sounded. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

Alec and Nathan exchanged a look, which only confirmed my suspicion.

“It’s the legend,” Micah chimed in. “They don’t want to accept that it might be right.”

“What legend?” As I looked around at everyone, it became apparent that Callie and I were the only ones in the dark. Even the almighty Gabby shifted uncomfortably in response to my question, her eyes flicking to mine before darting away.

“More like a folktale,” Alec grumbled.

Micah ignored him to answer me, since no one else was forthcoming. “Centuries ago, a prophet, actually the most powerful prophet at that time—”

“She was an old crazy bat,” Alec interrupted, but Micah continued unfazed.

“She had a vision,” he said, “of an Incantator bringing about the end of everything—of us, of our world.
Everything
, Skotadi and Kala alike. Her vision led to a bad time in our history, where anyone even suspected of Incantation was executed, without question. Hybrids, demigods, everyone was terrified. It got twisted into human history over time, and is now what the basis of the persecution of witches in the 1600s came from.”

“None of them were ever found to be Incantators,” Nathan added in opposition of Micah’s story. “Let alone
the
Incantator.”

“Maybe because she wasn’t born yet,” Micah returned coolly.

“She?” I asked.

Micah nodded. “The prophet saw a girl, capable of bringing an end to all of us.”

Micah had a way of making my skin prick, but never had his words caused the hairs on my neck to stand on end quite like this before. I’d thought learning that I was destined to be the greatest evil to walk the earth would be the most bone jarring moment of my life. I had been wrong. Because even if no one said it out loud, and I didn’t know if anyone else was even on the same brain wave as I was, but I had a deeply rooted suspicion that this prophecy, this Incantator, was linked to me.

I was destined to lift the Skotadi, and bring an end to the Kala. It was likely that my path would intersect with this great Incantator they all feared. If the prophet’s prediction that an Incantator with this kind of power was coming, I knew she was here now and our paths would be crossing soon. Not only did I fear myself, but now I feared this unknown enemy.

Even if the others doubted it, I believed. How could I not, after all I have seen and heard and learned about this new world, and myself? For all we knew, she was the one behind these conversions, and this was her room we were standing in. Micah had said only a very powerful Incantator could pull of something like this. Surely
the
Incantator would have the strength to force someone’s soul to…switch sides.

What were our chances, if we were up against someone like this? Did I have a chance?

I felt the heaviness of several sets of eyes on me, and I kept my eyes downturned to avoid meeting any of them. Too much was swirling around in my head and I didn’t want any of them to know just how freaked out I was. If I was going to do this, I had to be strong. For now, faking strength would have to do.

Because I had to do something—anything—to cover up the chills that had gripped me, I stepped closer to the markings on the floor in the center of the room, studying them though I had no idea what they meant. I had no plan, no reason to do so, but I stooped there, in the middle of the room, and brushed a finger over the crescent shaped drawing at my feet.

It was drawn in a powdery material, almost, but not quite, like chalk. Lifting my hand, I studied the powder on my finger. It was…shiny. As I moved my finger around, light from the candles glistened off of tiny specks. They weren’t…

My breath caught.

They weren’t specks of diamond, were they?

I tried to open my mouth, but found that I couldn’t. The only thing that worked were my eyes. I saw my hand frozen in the air, my finger sticking straight up, held there against my will. I felt as if I were suspended in a pool of thick jelly, unable to move.

I heard the others’ muffled voices, full of panic, as stars swarmed my vision. A bolt of electricity shot up my arm, producing a scream from me that sounded more like a whimper to my ears. I saw a flash of color, perhaps the same color as Nathan’s shirt, rushing toward me. I tried to reach for it, but couldn’t.

And then I saw nothing.

I was thrust into the land of nowhere, surrounded by nothing, for a long time. At some point, I felt a presence join me, but still saw nothing. After a while, I started to wonder if I had imagined the feeling of something, or someone, else being there. On some level, I knew it was still there…only not. It was more like…

Like it was a part of me. 

Relentless darkness, made worse by thick fog, limits my vision. Only the lantern in my hand permits me hope of finding it. Of finding him.

My thin white gown sweeps across the fog covered ground. I watch my sandal-clad feet, faintly illuminated by the lantern’s light, as they push forward, one in front of the other. I take tentative steps that will lead me to freedom…a freedom I have not known for centuries.

To a love I have not seen for far too long.

Aside from in my dreams. But they are not the same. They do not give me the strength that his true presence does. I am on my own, and can only rely on my own faltering powers. 

Oh, how I miss him. How I need him.

A vision of him fills me. Tall and lean, with wavy dark hair, softly curved shoulders. Beautiful in every way. My love. My curse. In my mind’s eye, he turns and I see him.

His eyes—the color that emeralds were named after—meet mine. With a smile, his hand lifts to welcome me. I reach for it—of course I reach for him—but my hand slips through his, his arm wafting away like a cloud. To my horror, he fades. Disappears.

It’s then that I remember he was only a vision. He wasn’t real.

But he is out there.

And I will find him.

And then everything will change.

Micah.

I woke with a start. The seconds ticked by as I stared at the ceiling of my room, orienting myself. I listened to Callie’s slow and steady breathing as she slept soundly beside me. Other than that, the house was quiet and dark.

As I lay there, I wondered how much time had passed, and how I had ended up in my bed when the last thing I remembered was being on the floor of the warehouse. Then, the details of the dream—or whatever it had been—rushed me.

It hadn’t been anything like my usual dreams with Micah.

I wasn’t convinced it had been Micah in my dream anyway. I hadn’t been me. And the man had looked slightly different. Older, with shaggier hair than Micah, a little more height than Micah, but a close resemblance none the less.

A brother, perhaps? Father?

Why in the hell was I dreaming about Micah’s father?

And whose shoes had I literally been walking in, whose eyes had I been seeing through?

I grunted as I threw back the covers and got to my feet.

Another dream, another mystery. My life was full of them.

I wondered if Micah had any knowledge of the dream, and resigned to ask him the next chance I got.