Words of Power (Alice Gray Book 3)

56

The Eye was open, and filtering through was another reality right on top of the one that was accessed by mortal eyes. A supernatural reality, where the silver tree stood tall and proud. The site of a divine battle to decide how far these so-called immortals could interfere in the mortal world, when their own lives had somehow become so fragile.

The tree solidified as more and more of the silver particles spun out of me and clung to its form. It seemed impossible that only I could see it. Surely some of the other powerful creatures here could detect the intrusion of a tree that originated in Eden.

I tried to wrap my brain around the vast and intricate web of correspondences between natural life on Earth and whatever the hell was going on in the fast unravelling cosmos.

I thought back to all those stories that Anne and I read in the family grimoire that dated back to the time of our ancestors, the original Pendle Witches.

Back then, witches and humans alike accepted with an unshakeable certainly that the position of planets and stars could influence their physical and mental selves. They believed in the capacity of invisible forces to altar their minds and bodies. That external powers could enter their thoughts and dreams and influence their actions. For them, everything was connected, mind, body and soul; magic and health.

As I watched the colourful fight spinning round and round the tree, I realised that those old beliefs, the ones that made witches as much a part of reality as humans, were the ones that should have flourished.

Science and technology were great, but as angels circled an alternate reality above my head, their blood raining down on the mortals below, there was no denying that astral influences ruled us all.

Witches, stars, humans and monsters, we were all cosmological forces.

And with that great revelation, came another. If the angels were dying then we all were; there was no doubting that now.

Twisting round to share my prophecy of doom, I realised that every set of eyes was glued to the magnificent splendour of the deadly battle being fought above us.

Or so I thought until the silver particles suddenly stopped floating off in the direction of the tree and clung tightly to my body. The tree's leaves rustled, creating chimes that danced over my skin. The creeping sensation of dread rippled through my veins as my heart beat faster at the premonition of danger.

I glanced around the group of paranormals all frozen in their places, faces angled to the ceiling. Nobody was missing.

My eyes swept the rest of the huge building. Terror quickened my pulse when I saw movement near the Minster's entrance. Large lumbering figures filled the doorway, dispersed with scrawny red-eyed wolves that swarmed around their legs.

The DPA's guards at Precentor's court. And the drugged-up wolves, red-eyed and crazed.

The slow, unwieldy men lurched one way and then another as they progressed down the Nave. The wolves threaded through them creeping ever faster towards us.

"Lucas," I yelled, searching out my Alpha. His eyes were glued to the fight above. I tried to reach out through the pack bond. Instead of my thoughts merging in the warmth and reassurance of my pack's acceptance, they just floated out into the air. Without Lucas holding our bond together, there was nothing to catch them anymore.

I swallowed the sadness that tried to engulf me. There wasn't time for that.

There was only one other person that I had any chance of getting through to, and the idea of it brought bile shooting up my windpipe.

I had to open myself back up to Thomas.

If my flying lesson with the angels taught me anything other than what a backstabbing, lying bastard he was, it was that my connection with Thomas trumped everything else. However much I wanted to shut him out of my life right now, he was my only chance and I owed it to my pack to use him.

Clambering over the tight wooden fixed seats of the Quire, I tried to push past James Device. Back straight, head tilted up, he looked even younger than usual. If it wasn't for his bright crimson eyes, I would think that he was more likely a choirboy than the head of the London vamps.

All sense of decorum flung out the window, I crawled over his lap to get to my supposedly predestined mate. Luckily my knee in his groin didn't disturb James's statue-still figure.

I paused, catching my lip between my teeth. Thomas was such a beautiful man. As I looked down at his upturned face, I couldn't help admiring the smooth planes of his deeply tanned face. His perfect cheek bones and jawline, and those long-lashes that were still beautiful even though they framed his now crimson eyes.

I knew he wasn't mine, never really had been, but I couldn't help myself. And when I climbed onto his lap to try and reconnect our power and bring him round to the danger that threatened us, he felt so right under me that tears welled in my eyes at everything that I'd lost. And everything that I'd never had.

Placing my hands on either side of his perfect face, I brought my mouth to his at the same time that I willed my magic forward. I could see the silver particles crawl over his skin as I replayed our memories.

His vampire energy roared to life in response to the raw need of my life-force. My need. I kissed him harder, closing my eyes and pouring all the heat and pain into him. When his lips moved in response, and he pushed his tongue into my mouth, tasting and exploring me, I knew that he was back.

I pulled away, dashing away the tears that were still on my cheeks. He didn't deserve my grief. Immediately his head tilted up, so I caught it again, one hand on each side, making him look only at me. I needed him to focus. The angels were too much for earthly eyes. They'd mesmerised the entire courtroom.

And now we were all vulnerable to attack.

But will Thomas help Alice? Read on...