Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 137871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 689(@200wpm)___ 551(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 689(@200wpm)___ 551(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“I wanted to tell you—"
“Guys, the falls are this way,” Dane called. “What’s taking you so long?”
Springing apart, Adriel rushed after him. Guess they were keeping it a secret then. Juniper didn’t know if that was smart or dumb, but she could figure it out later.
Rushing after them, she navigated the muddy terrain and roots crowding the path, moving fast enough to avoid getting bit by more mosquitos.
It was fall. Shouldn’t those little fuckers be dead by now?
When they reached the foot of the gorges, all other sounds muffled. Mist dampened the air, and the change in altitude messed with her ears.
“Do you feel that?” Adriel grinned.
Juniper nodded and set down her leather backpack. “I definitely feel it.” She pulled the big book out and closed her eyes, taking a moment to ground.
Last night, she’d set all of her tools on the windowsill to charge. This morning, the books vibrated with energy as if not inanimate objects but something secretly alive.
Magick was merely the channeling of life from one source to another. It was all connected. Water and sunlight fed the grass that fed the animals, which then nourished the humans who supplied the immortals. In the end, everything from the earth to the ether was connected. Animals fertilizing the plants and freshened the air, which mixed with the solar system above. It was all magically connected in the cycle of life.
“You ready to do this?” Dane asked, rolling up his sleeves.
It had been his idea to practice on something bigger than pennies, rocks, and tomatoes, so he volunteered himself.
“Perhaps you should start with me, in case anything goes wrong,” Adriel suggested. “No offense, Dane, but I’m less…breakable.”
Dane rolled his eyes. “You’re tiny. She needs to practice on something bigger.”
“Ah, yes.” Adriel rolled her eyes. “You Dane. Dane big and strong.” She thumped a fist on her chest then softened her voice. “Me little female, feeble and weak.”
Juniper laughed. “Adriel has a point, Dane. I could screw up and hurt you.”
“I think I can handle it.” He stretched his legs and arms as if getting ready to run a marathon. “Besides, I fed an hour ago. I feel great.”
Juniper did a double take. When had that happened? And whose blood did he drink? When Adriel flushed, she had her answer.
Juniper scowled, all jovialness leaving her at once. “Well then I guess we’re ready.”
“I really think you should practice on me, first, June—”
“Dane will be fine. He’s a big, strong boy. I’m sure he can handle a few bruises.” She looked upward at the cliffs. “Are you afraid of heights?”
Dane looked behind him. “I don’t think so.”
“Then up you go.” Extending her arms overhead, she pulled energy from the earth and called it into her body.
Dane’s laughter echoed off the stone walls as he lifted off the ground. The rushing spray of the falls snuffed out the sound.
She lowered her arms, which consequently lowered Dane back to the earth. Silence.
“What’s wrong?”
Juniper frowned. “I thought I felt something.”
“What kind of something?” Dane asked, now standing several feet away. “I felt nothing except lightness.”
Adriel stepped forward. “Try it with me and see if you feel it again.”
“Okay.” Juniper turned her attention to Adriel’s smaller form. Maybe it was like lifting weights and she needed to build up her strength for someone of Dane’s size. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
She concentrated, and up Adriel went. She was definitely lighter and easier to carry. Her laughter echoed much like Dane’s until she was too far above the spray to hear. She deposited her at the top of the gorge, where a cliff protruded.
“There it is again.” Juniper sucked in a sharp breath, unsure of what caused the chill. It was cold, like ice floating in the air. It slithered into her bones with a rheumatoid ache. “Ade?” Her eyes squinted as she listened closely for Adriel’s voice.
“Do you hear anything?”
“Just water.”
“Adriel?” She and Dane shouted, moving up the path toward the top of the cliff where she’d deposited Adriel. “Adriel, answer us!”
The air chilled again, and Juniper’s worry doubled. Something wasn’t right.
She rushed up the mud path, her heart pounding when they continued to call without a single answer from Adriel.
“Adriel!”
She lost her footing and slipped in a mire of leaves and sludge, falling hard and smashing her knee on a protruding root. “Shit!”
“Are you all right?” Dane pulled her up, his breath ragged from climbing the steep incline.
Her jeans had ripped and her knee was now bleeding. “Something’s wrong.” Anxiety spiked in her tight chest. The sky darkened and the dense tree coverage blocked the moonlight, making it hard to see the trail.
“Adriel!”
Thunder cracked, but no light webbed the sky. Blackness bled into the trees and a whisper of unease skated over her skin, snaking through the forest like a toxic gas until fear was all she could breathe.