Chapter Twelve

Three Days Later

November 12, 2026

 

FOR THREE DAYS, they lived side by side, sharing a bed, a room, their space and their secrets. Storm had confessed his feelings to Rowan and hadn’t been laughed or screamed at because he was a Tera, a traitor and the enemy. None of those things were true anymore, and it astounded him every time he looked at Rowan. He’d known all along and still played the part of a distant enemy, so that he wouldn’t shatter the magical illusion Storm had been imprisoned by.

Forcing someone out of a magical compulsion was extremely dangerous and was the reason Storm was avoiding Cesa until he could figure out a way to cure his curse. Having Yael back would help. He needed someone unconnected to Cesa’s situation to bounce ideas off, and there was no one better to deal with a curse than a demon. But Yael had stopped by the morning after his confession to Rowan to warn Storm that they wouldn’t return for nearly a week.

How strange that a single week in someone’s company could make him miss them and forget what loneliness felt like. Even with Rowan busy studying for his online college course most of the day, Storm knew he wasn’t alone. Yael and Rowan would always be there when he needed them.

Now he needed Denver and Foley and to know where they stood in this mess of a life.

Storm signed his name to the note he’d written and passed the rolled-up paper to the crow sitting on Rowan’s windowsill. Gladys would have become concerned by Ithen’s absence by now, and he didn’t know what power either had or if his electronics had been used to track him. To be cautious, he’d left his phone and tablet at his shack, in a place hidden by magic and surrounded by protections to keep them inaccessible to Ithen and Gladys.

Watching the crow fly off with his message, he turned to where Midnight lay on Rowan’s pillow. The cat had come to accept his presence as long as he didn’t get between her and Rowan, and Storm wasn’t particularly interested in pushing those boundaries. Most animals loved his dark magic as they were made from the abyss and recognised him as family, but this kitten was demon-made and a whole other problem.

Having plans for the day forced Storm to hurry; he showered, changed and stole one of Rowan’s cable jumpers, since the wind had increased during the night. He’d need to go to the shack soon to collect his clothes, but he could make do with what he’d packed and a working washing machine, with the bonus of borrowing Rowan’s clothes.

He left the house at eleven in the morning, walking over crunchy fallen leaves, bracing against the biting wind, to clear his head. Storm had been consumed with thoughts about Gladys and Ithen for the last three days, trying to fathom their plans and why they needed Cesa to be under their control. He was on a deadline, needing to figure out their plans, find the amulet and spell, and regain his memories of the future so he could avoid reliving the same fate, all before the date of the war. Storm only wished he knew when the final battle had taken place because then he would know if he had days or weeks to spend working through his problems.

The wind was unusually quiet as Storm walked the open field of Copry land. To be surrounded by blessed silence at a time when Storm expected the world to be in an uproar felt ominous. Was this the calm before the storm?

He walked to the shack without anything untoward happening and stopped to check on Ithen. He was still unconscious, which suggested he may have slipped into the abyss, in an attempt to escape Storm’s magic and hadn’t realised how endless the place could be. Without intention, he could remain lost for years.

As long as he stayed out of Storm’s way, he wasn’t bothered. With Ithen out of action, Storm had time to breathe and focus on one enemy at a time. Once he was sure Ithen was well protected, he walked to the poppy field and sat under his favourite tree: the willow at Adam’s Grove. He’d borrowed one of Rowan’s books about dark magic, a necessity for a half-demon with natural dark magic in his veins. The pages contained more advanced magic than anything Storm had salvaged from his parents’ house or those Gladys had let him read and he was intrigued to see how the teachings differed. With dark magic and demon magic so similar but their methods so varied, he may find a better explanation than the old grimoires that used the old-fashioned phrasings.

Storm was holding onto a frayed thread of hope that the demons knew of the amulet and might know of a way to handle it safety.

*

AFTER AN HOUR, footsteps and voices heralded Denver’s arrival at Adam’s Grove. “Let’s find out what he wants.”

Storm’s stomach sank, realising that neither Denver or Foley wanted to see him. He didn’t know what had been said about his three-day absence, but Gladys could have been spreading rumours. Setting the book aside, Storm stood to greet them. “Thanks for coming.”

“What’s with the secrecy? You said not to tell anyone about meeting you, but everyone is saying you disappeared?” Foley asked, always the one to address issues head-on.

“I was at a lesson with Ithen the other day. I told you, right?” He wanted to make sure they knew the expected events before he threw them in at the deep end.

“Yeah.”

There was no easy way to say it, so Storm didn’t try to sugar-coat the news. “He tried to kill me.” He watched as they processed the news; Denver blinked in shock while Foley positively burst with questions.

“What? Why? How could he—?”

Storm caught his hand to quieten him. “Because he killed my parents.”

Silence fell and Denver ran a hand over his mouth, clearly lost for words. While they struggled to come to terms with the information, Storm countered Foley’s questions and Denver’s naïve disbelief that Ithen would ever hurt him by telling them everything.

Storm needed them to know the truth. He talked them through the entire sorry story: being sent back from the future—a future where he’d failed to save their lives and failed to fulfil the prophecy—and how events had changed. He spoke about Yael and how Rowan was linked to his past and future, about Cesa being cursed, his parents murder and Ithen being locked in his shack. He told them about Gladys, hoping to keep Foley safe. He was from a coven friendly with the Glades, and he didn’t want Foley or his family running foul of her new dark magic.

“I have to tell you guys something else. I need you to be aware, in case the events of the future can’t be avoided,” Storm confessed because this was the real reason he had to speak to them. He had to make them understand the danger, to keep them safe for as long as he could.

“What could be worse?” Denver asked, glancing at Foley, who sat with a faint frown.

“First off, I know you two are dating,” he admitted, smiling when Denver squirmed and looked to Foley for guidance. “I’m not mad. I just wish you told me the truth.”

Denver blushed furiously, rubbing the back of his neck. His shyness only made Storm smile, but he genuinely had bigger problems than them keeping a relationship secret.

“I’m glad you found each other. I only ever wanted you both to be happy,” he promised.

“Thanks.” Denver glanced at Foley with a raised eyebrow.

He cleared his throat and bobbed his head at Storm. “We weren’t sure how to tell you.”

Storm wished they’d never had to wonder or worry. Maybe he’d been a different person before he returned from the future; less approachable, less open about his feelings. “In the future…during the war…something happened. During this prophecy moment where I’m supposed to save magic, a curse was cast and hit Rowan. He was killed.”

Denver gasped and instinctively reached for Foley’s hand.

“The curse went straight through him and into the person standing behind him,” he went on, not sure how best to continue. The images flashed through his mind to remind him that he’d lost both of these people, once upon a time.

With a knowing tilt of his head, Foley was quick to realise the meaning. “Which one?” He avoided Denver’s gaze, probably because he didn’t seem to understand what Storm was struggling to say.

“Denver.” He refused to go into details about how and why, or how Denver had been kidnapped and magically tortured. As a human, Denver had been lucky to survive the magical overload, only to die a few hours later from a rebounded spell. The pain he must have felt didn’t bear thinking about.

“You died a few weeks later. Ithen died on the final night of the war, and I killed every Copry in sight,” he confessed because other than Rowan, he needed Foley’s stern reasoning and Denver’s foolhardiness to balance out his need to rewrite the past. “The Glade coven didn’t fight in the war.”

“Which, now you know Gladys is evil, makes total sense.” Denver nodded, like the rational guy he was—one who liked to know what he was dealing with.

“Exactly.”

“Denver died,” Foley said, having come to terms with that news.

Storm nodded and reiterated how important it was neither of them die this time. “I needed you to know. In the other future, the one where everyone died, I don’t think I ever knew you were together. So much has changed, but I still need you to know the risk.”

Rowan had been right; distancing himself without explaining why would only bring Foley and Denver closer, no doubt to check on him or to argue about being left out. As Yael would say, with knowledge came power, and this time the power was having the ability to live a long life, as every teenager should. They shouldn’t die for someone else’s war.

“Rowan will help me study necromancy so I can resurrect anyone if I have to. I’d rather not need to. We’re going to stop the war now that we have Ithen imprisoned, but Gladys is free, and Cesa is still under his curse.”

“You also don’t know where the amulet or the spell are,” Foley said, sounding determined to help resolve that problem.

Storm nodded and leaned over his crossed legs, one elbow on each knee. “Yeah. My parents died before they could tell me, and I imagine Ithen and Gladys have been through all the family documents and searched in person and with spells.” They would have tried everything to get to the amulet, probably even taking Storm’s blood. A scratch or doctor’s visit would have been easy because he didn’t know he couldn’t trust them. “Rowan has a few ideas. Until then, we’re in danger and I need to stay missing.”

“Definitely.” Foley licked his lips and turned to Denver, his face portraying the gravity of the situation. “You shouldn’t be around me.”

“Are you serious?” Denver snapped, a purely instinctive reaction but one that Storm understood. He didn’t want to be away from Foley, but Storm also understood what Foley meant.

Foley stood so he could pace, his usual method of working off tension and nerves when he couldn’t use magic. “You don’t have any magic, Denver. You could get killed; not because I’m afraid or because you’re human or because you can’t defend yourself against magic, but because you die in the future! We don’t know if Storm has done enough to avoid that yet.” He gestured at Storm though neither looked to check if he had an answer. “You would be safer keeping your distance from both of us.”

Before Denver could argue—and he would—Storm cut in. “He’s right.” He may not like it, but there was a lot he didn’t like about this situation. There was nothing to do but keep moving because going back wasn’t possible and standing still would get them killed. “I also know you won’t listen, so I’ve asked Rowan to make a protective amulet for you. You will wear this with no compromises and no loopholes. Every second of every minute of every day, you will wear the amulet until this is over and the war is won. Understand?” he demanded, reaching into his bag.

When he handed the bracelet to Denver, he slipped it on without hesitation. “Deal.” Wiping the triumphant glee off his face, he glared at Foley and gripped his hand tightly. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Stubborn ass.”

“I love you too,” Denver responded and kissed his cheek.

Storm envied them that easiness but had to face the sad reality of knowing he couldn’t convince Rowan to take his own advice. As a half-demon, no protective amulet could help him, and he was as embroiled in this as Storm. Asking him to keep a safe distance from this chaos would be like saying he’d do the same.

Foley shook his head and wrapped an arm around Denver’s waist. When he looked Storm in the eye, there was a mischievous glint in them that he should have seen coming. “So…Rowan, huh?”

The blush was automatic, but he shrugged and appreciated the friendly ribbing about falling for the enemy.

*

“DO YOU THINK she’ll find the amulet? Do you even know where to start looking?” Rowan asked as he dragged Storm from the warm main house to trudge through the long grass to his hidden summer house.

Huddling into his jacket against the wind, more chilled and less wild over the hour since he’d left his friends, Storm looked at the sky. He could feel the weather brewing and wondered when the storm would hit.

“Nope.” He didn’t much like the answer, but that wasn’t up for debate. “As for Gladys, I don’t even know who she is. I never knew the real Gladys.” That was a hard truth to swallow, but Storm wasn’t naïve enough to deny the obvious. “A week ago, I would have said she’d never sniffed at dark magic but, now I know she’s been using it and the demons have been watching, I’m worried. Yael says the demons want her to pay for her misuse of dark magic. You’ll know better than me that demons aren’t allowed to kill or cause the death of a human.”

Rowan nodded and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. “Demons are the counterparts to humans; if one dies out the other can’t exist. To make sure of that, they can’t harm each other.” He recounted the rules with a smirk and nudged Storm. “That’s why I’ve been safe from Gladys and Ithen all these years. They can hurt me and curse me, but I’ll shake the spell off eventually. They don’t know that, and they’ve never bothered to check.”

“It needs to stay that way, for your sake and your father’s,” Storm said, agreeing with Yael that the secrets they’d discovered were all the power they needed and could rely on. “They’ve been manipulating him for so long, I’m not sure what can break Ithen’s hold. I don’t know if the answer is to untangle the curse or if Ithen has to die, and I’m not ready to find out.”

He hated to put a downer on the conversation, but he needed to confront the reality of not saving Cesa. He couldn’t see any other way to cure Cesa without Ithen’s help or removal; Rowan had admitted to trying everything in his formidable power. Storm wouldn’t be averse to killing Ithen, to break the curse, if he knew enough necromancy to bring him back. He wasn’t sure he was cut out for outright murder, the way he had been in the future.

Storm wished he could punch the man who had caused so much trouble for them, both in the past and the present. “Thanks to Ithen, I learned nothing during my training. I still don’t know any real dark magic because I’ve been taught by two traitors who killed my parents. My dad only taught me small spells.”

“Such as?”

Storm raked through what few memories he had, and the few he’d borrowed from Ithen. “Respect the elements, always ask permission of magic and never use magic against another mage unless I was prepared to die,” he recounted, knowing the last was something he’d have to face sooner or later, just as his dad had when Ithen killed him. Asher fought back, hoping to protect those he loved, even if he had to give his life to secure their safety. “He laughed whenever I tried to conjure something from another room, which I never did manage.”

Storm almost laughed at the fond memory, embarrassed to admit something like that to Rowan, who was so proficient and knowledgeable with magic.

Rowan removed a hand from his pocket, then raised it as though he was holding something he wanted Storm to see.

The wind whispered: Conjurer. Half-demon child. Dead. The last word was chanted like a child who had found a word they loved. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The wind practically sang with joy.

The sound raised the hairs on the back of Storm’s neck and sent a shiver up his spine, warning of an unnatural event heading his way. Before he could ask the wind for more information, a book appeared, floating in mid-air, then casually sailed through the wind to land on Rowan’s hand.

“Don’t worry, I can teach you what I know,” Rowan offered, his charming smile hinting that he hadn’t heard the wind’s ominous words. “Your demon will help you with the rest.”

Storm shoved the wind’s warnings aside and returned Rowan’s smile as he tucked the book under his arm. “Yael technically isn’t my demon. We haven’t bonded yet. We’ve agreed not to until after the prophecy is fulfilled so they can’t get hurt, if or when I die.”

“Wise choice.” Rowan linked his free arm through Storm’s. “But they will help if you ask. As will I.” His smile was warm enough to chase away the chill left by the wind’s warning. He continued toward the summer house, just a few feet away, oblivious to the niggling warning Storm had been given.

When they reached the building, Storm opened the door for Rowan, pondering another problem. “We need to find the amulet and the spell, then make sure no one else can get their hands on them,” he admitted, waiting for Rowan to head in from the cold before he followed. He had no choice but to ignore the flirtatious look Rowan sent over his shoulder and the glance he gave Storm’s hand on the door. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing but, if he could make Rowan look at him with such approval, he wasn’t doing so bad.

He only wished they had time for flirting.

Rowan placed the book he’d summoned onto the arm of the chair as he sank into the cushion. “I’m still surprised my father hasn’t succumbed to Ithen’s curse and given him the spell. I’m hoping that’s the part of him that calls for your father in his sleep.”

Storm perched on the chaise to Rowan’s right. “That’s how you knew about them?” He’d wondered what had spilled the secret: Cesa rambling or moments of clarity amongst the hours, weeks and years of Ithen’s curse taking hold. He hadn’t expected Cesa to talk in his sleep or have nightmares about losing Asher.

With a negligent shrug and a yawn, Rowan sank into the seat, understandably tired after hours of working on his college course. “I put the pieces together and remembered a few things,” he admitted, nibbling on his lower lip with uncertainty. “I don’t know anything about the future you. Can you tell me what you remember? We might find hints that we can use to help?”

“Sure.” Storm had no problem digging into those memories. Though he’d been an arrogant sod in the future, considering what he’d been through and everyone he’d lost, he figured he was entitled to a few years of bad behaviour. Thrusting the magical world into a living hell, however, was a dangerous move, but shit happened when a jaded dark mage became a sarcastic, alcoholic twat. He just hated the idea that he’d spent years pining for Ithen and thinking he’d loved the asshole.

Maybe he wouldn’t tell Rowan that part. No, he should be honest. In a world where they only had each other to count on, lies and secrets could get them killed.

Again.