When the other witches didn’t break the circle quickly enough, Max pushed to his feet. He strode over to the magical circle then kicked his foot through the chalk.
I heard the sound of glass breaking. I smelt the sudden scent of candle wax and burnt dirt.
The other witches in the room screamed, jolted back, and clapped hands over their heads.
Bridgette winced. “That’s gotta hurt,” she commented, then she returned her attention to me.
“Why did you break the circle?” I heard Sarah Anne demand, for the first time anger filtering through her usually sweet tone.
I didn’t say a word. I stared at the dirt under my nails, wishing for it to disappear. Because it had to be part of the vision. There was no dirt in this room – save for the special chalk from the Isle of Wight.
So there was no way that earth could be smeared over my hands, clogged between my fingernails, and trailing down my wrists.
Max shoved hard on his foot, skidding down to his knees as he returned to me. He grasped both my wrists tenderly, simply hooking his fingers around the skin as if he was scared to hold my hands completely.
With a strong frown pressed over his lips, he inspected me.
We heard footsteps, and Sarah Anne finally came close. “What happened? Who broke the circle? I was so close to getting Fagan—”
“Just give it a rest, Sarah – our magic had unintended consequences,” Brigitte explained.
Unintended consequences? I still kind of felt connected to Dimitri. Despite the fact the circle was broken, and its magic was waning, I swore I could still feel a spade in my hands, wet clogged earth under my feet, grass trapped beneath my nails.
I shook my head, squeezed my eyes tightly, and tried to dislodge the sensation. But nothing would work. Nothing would work!
And the dirt? It did not disappear.
“You should have been more careful,” Max snapped.
I opened half an eye, expecting his scowling face to be pressed up close to mine. But he wasn’t talking to me; he was talking to Sarah.
He let go of my wrists tenderly then pushed to his feet. “You said you were just doing a location spell.”
Sarah, totally surprised, blinked her pretty eyelashes. “I was.”
“That’s a transport spell,” Max spat as he pointed towards me.
Sarah shook her head, obviously surprised. “No. We didn’t have the magic for that—”
“Well someone did.”
“Why isn’t the dirt disappearing?” I demanded. When nobody answered me, I took in a shaking, stuttering breath and screamed, “Why isn’t the dirt disappearing? It was a vision, wasn’t it? Then why isn’t the dirt—”
Bridgette leaned down, locked a hand on my shoulder, and brought her face close to mine. “It’s okay. The dirt’s not disappearing, because… it’s real.”
I turned my horrified gaze on her. “It can’t be real. I was standing here. Not out there with… he was here… he was digging up a dead body.”
“Who?” Sarah demanded.
“Dimitri,” Max answered as he turned on his foot once more, pushed down to his knees, and returned his attention to me. He cast his wary gaze to the dirt, obviously giving it one last chance to hurry up and disappear. When it didn’t, he took a pressured breath. Though he was the one breathing, somehow I felt so connected to him that I drew in a deep breath at exactly the same moment.
Silence spread through the warehouse.
I was possessed with the idea that I had to remove this dirt from my body immediately.
I brought my hands down and tried to wipe them on my jeans.
Neither Max nor Bridgette would let me. Both shoved forward, catching the same hand.
Bridgette cast her gaze towards Max quickly before locking it back on me. “No – you can’t get rid of it. Not yet. We can use it.”
“Use it?” I stammered. “I have to get it off me! He was digging up a dead body. I was digging up a dead body!” My mind merged the two thoughts.
Max shook his head, his expression grim. “No, Chi,” his voice dropped, became certain in that way it always did when he was trying to calm me, “you were not digging up a dead body. You were momentarily possessing Dimitri. Now think. Do you know where he was? Which graveyard?”
The last thing I wanted to do right now was plunge myself back into that memory. It was too raw. I feared that if I did it, I would wind up back there, inside Dimitri’s head as I gleefully dug up the dead.
I clenched my teeth and shook my head. Max almost looked as if he wanted to reach up and grab his hands either side of my cheeks. He didn’t. He simply held my gaze. “Chi, this is important. Any details. Do you remember where you were?”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Just give her some time,” Bridgette snapped.
“We don’t have time. She doesn’t have time,” Max added in a lower, constricted tone.
… I didn’t have time.
This séance had been designed to find Fagan, designed to buy me at least 24 hours. Instead, I’d been plunged into the dark mind of Dimitri.
I’d wasted my only opportunity.
I opened my eyes. I turned my hand around, shrugging it out of Bridgette’s grip. Before she could reach forward and lock my hand in place once more, I looked at my watch.
I swallowed.
Two hours.
I had two hours until Fagan came for me, captured me, and cut my heart out.
I began rocking backward and forwards. It wasn’t a conscious move – it was a last-ditch attempt to release the tension welling in my body. My body felt like it was seconds from breaking.
“Chi, it’s okay,” Max said, voice different. Gone was the certainty. There, in its place, was the tenderness – so
