Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
I’ve been through worse.
At the moment, I can’t recall exactly what I’ve been through, yet I can feel it in my heart: I’ve been through some real shitty shit in my past. Somewhat knowing my way around Chicago, I hastily walk down the block, not realizing I’m headed toward the Martin family office until it’s too late.
“Hey, sis.”
I whirl around, eyes widening when I see Scott. His lips are curled back in a smug grin.
“Don’t call me sis. I’m not your sister.”
“What?” Scott lets out a snort of laughter. “Is your little boyfriend ready to give up on the campaign? He could still take an unpaid spot on our team…if he begs for it.”
Easton isn’t my boyfriend, yet I’m pissed the fuck off by Scott insulting him. I blink and everything comes rushing back all at once. This isn’t real. Scott is a grade-A asshole in my actual life—and this one, because how else can you paint him? And then it dawns on me.
This isn’t real. Not all my actions will have consequences…right?
“You know,” I start and push my hair back. “I’m really tempted to say dracarys like I mean it and see if you go up in flames. My only regret will be the possibility of not remembering you screaming in pain as the flesh melts off your bones and the smoke starts to slowly choke you until you’re depleted of all oxygen and each fiery breath burns your lungs from the inside out.”
The sneer on Scott’s face starts to fade. “I always knew there was something wrong with you.”
“Yeah. Because I’m not a Martin.” I throw my hand out, feeling warmth rise inside of me—and Scott stumbles back.
Fuck, yes.
I’m a witch, and I have powers. I swallow hard and push forward, walking down the sidewalk and ignoring Scott’s screaming. I mentally call for Binx, trying not to get inside my head. Because if Scott isn’t real, then am I? If something happens to me here, will it happen to me wherever I am?
“No,” I say out loud. “Because I was shot and here I am.” I keep muttering to myself and randomly throwing my hands in front of me, trying to summon my powers. I look insane, and several people purposely avoid me, but I don’t care and I keep trying to use magic until I get into the library.
The mental fog is closing in, threatening me once again. I grab a piece of scrap paper and a pencil from the front desk and quickly jot down a note.
You’re stuck in a loop. None of this is real. WAKE UP!
My eyes fall shut as pain starts to radiate from right between my eyes. Vision blurry, I blink my eyes open and feel my head bob toward the table.
Once.
Twice.
“Can I help you find anything today?”
Sitting up straight, the librarian’s voice is enough to pull me back to the here-and-now…which isn’t really here anyway. I blink a few times, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened since last time I checked, I didn’t suffer from supernatural narcolepsy.
“No. I’m good,” I say and force a smile, looking at the woman with dark hair. She’s familiar for some reason, yet I’m sure she’s just another figment of my imagination. I catch her name on her lanyard as she walks off, thinking Nelly isn’t a very common name for people my age anymore. Inhaling, I push past the circulation desk and head back to the nonfiction section, though I have no idea what I’m looking for, only that things have a rather supernatural feel to them.
I pull several books off the shelf, and my mind goes all foggy again. Squeezing my eyes closed, I set my stack of books down and put both hands on the side of my head. Something sparks around my fingers, shocking my temples.
And then I suddenly know everything again—and I mean fucking everything.
Easton and I were walking to the Covenstead. He brought the ugly-ass green ring from the warehouse. He thought I took it—and I did, in a sense. It was in my bag, though I don’t remember picking it up. Yet, that’s the only thing that makes sense.
“Unless the ring put itself in our path,” I whisper and then get a flash of Lucas’s face. Heart aching, I get to my feet and shove my books in the back corner of the desk I was sitting at. I pull my phone from my pocket as I walk, though it’s not like I need it to get to the tap room. Instead, I’m hoping to find out the hours, though if Lucas was there yesterday afternoon, then he has to be there now.
He wouldn’t travel by car during the day and risk being seen. Not yet at least. He doesn’t become quite so reckless until he meets me.