Davina (Davy Harwood #3)

“The witches?”


“I was able to connect to Davy, and the last time was when your brother,” she spat the last two words, “had a coven working to pull the thread out of Davy.”

Roane wasn’t surprised to hear that Lucan was trying to pull the thread out of Davy, but he was surprised about two other items. His nostrils flared. “You can connect to her?” His hand started to curve again. He wanted to grip her by the throat once more and squeeze until she gave him all the information she had. She was keeping this from him, keeping a part of Davy from him. He was close to becoming murderous, but he kept his arm next to his side. He had to, or he’d kill the other being, whatever Saren was.

She didn’t answer. It was her turn to become silent.

He asked the second question. “Is that possible?” If the thread left Davy, she’d die. She told him that herself, but hearing that it could be ripped out of her . . . he couldn’t think of the possibilities. If he did, he would leave this army and get to her on his own. Nothing and no one would get between them, even his own allies.

“No.”

He relaxed. Slightly.

She added, “Not normally because Davy merged with the thread. She became The Immortal, but the witches are strong. They’re powerful and they’ve been able to unbalance the merge.”

Roane shook his head. “What does this mean?”

“This means . . .” she hesitated.

For the first time since he met her, Saren looked uncertain. That sent a slice of panic through him. If she was nervous . . . No. Even before the thought entered his mind, he turned it off. He had to stay with his army. He couldn’t arrive without them. Lucan had an army of Mori. He wouldn’t be any help to Davy if he showed up alone.

“Speak!” he snapped.

“This means.” She lifted her head back up, rolling her shoulders back to a ready position. “We don’t know.”

“We?” The more she talked, the more Roane was questioning why she was needed. “Who else are you connected to?”

“My sisters.” She closed her eyes. The flame disappeared for a second, but when her eyelids lifted, Roane saw thousands of flames in them. It wasn’t just hers. And they were all different colors. Blue. Pale green. Sunlight yellow. A pastel shade of pink. They were all there and they were waving back and forth as one unit. The longer he stared at them, the stronger they grew. They began to take over Saren, moving past her eyes and moving along the rest of her body. Within seconds, her entire body was lit up with all of the colors, then the flames began to sizzle and meet the air. When they stopped, she was standing in front of him, completely on fire.

She spoke, but it wasn’t her voice. It was thousands of voices, all speaking as one. “We are one. The past, the present, and are awaiting our future sister.”

“You’re . . .” Roane shook his head. “What? What are you?”

“We are the last carriers. Each of us has had the thread inside of us.”

“But . . .” That meant Talia was there.

And, as if reading his mind, Saren’s body shifted. The blue leather changed into a shimmering white dress and her blue-tipped black hair transformed into deep auburn curls. The flame didn’t lessen or change, but it was Talia’s body in front of him.

“Are you—” His eyes roamed over her, taking in every aspect of her. The small dimple in her cheek, the curve of her waist where his hand used to rest so many times. “Talia?”

She nodded, a small and impish grin appearing. “It’s me. Saren stepped back and is allowing me to come through, but it’s not for long. We’re all here, Lucas. All of us together. It’s such a glorious event.”

“Glorious?” The end of his mouth dipped down.

“It is. All of the thread-holders are united, and we’ve been waiting.”

“For what?”

“For one purpose.”

“And that is?”

“To help the last thread-holder. She will need us when she battles the only threat to The Immortal line.”

“Jacith,” Roane breathed out. His own flame of fury started inside. He knew the sorcerer was mounting allies against them. “Is he close?”

“He’s close to Davy. He’s talked with her.”

His fury lit up, like gasoline had been thrown onto it. “He was close to her?”

“Only his spirit. Not in body. He can’t do much to her, not unless he’s in closer proximity. There are some limits to Jacith’s power.”

“But he’s tried to hurt her?”

“Not yet. She was weakened from the witches. He’s underestimating her right now.”

His rage lessened, just a bit. “How do you know all of this?”

“Because we watch, Lucas. All of us together. We’re everywhere, watching, listening, protecting. Saren is the one chosen to be here in body, but we’ve all connected as one.”