It felt like a bomb had gone off. A blast of power swept through the air, shattering the windows, mirrors, anything else made of glass, and leveling everyone in the room.

Alara’s ears rang. It was hard to focus, as though the blast of magic had scrambled her thoughts. As she sat up and waited for the room to stop spinning, she gritted her teeth against the throbbing headache pounding at her temples.

Something stirred inside of her, the doppelgänger wrought with confusion. I don’t understand, Secret said. It was supposed to work.

Work. The sacrifice.

Nik.

“Oh God,” Alara breathed, climbing to her feet. She nearly went down again as she stumbled her way to the lifeless body lying atop the altar. “Nik!” she screamed, cradling his head. Staring at the dagger, she almost reached for it to pull it out, but she stopped herself. There was already so much blood pouring out of the entry wound. Pulling the blade out would only make it bleed more. Trembling, she uttered her mate’s name again, searching for any signs of life.

His chest barely moved, the pulse in his neck throbbing erratically.

“Nik?” she whispered.

His eyes slowly opened. Pain. There was so much pain there.

Alara felt as if she were going to break. The gravity of what she’d done threatened to crush her.

Nik started to reach for her face, his hand shaking. “I… love…” He coughed, blood spurting onto his lip as he gurgled the last word.

“I love you too.” She took his hand, squeezed and kissed it. Tears poured down her face. “God, Nik, I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

He made a swatting motion at her cheek, wiping away her tears.

A broken smile turned the corners of his mouth up, and then he stilled.

Alara felt it, the moment his heart stopped beating.

Secret kept despairing in the back of her mind. I don’t understand. Why didn’t this work? It was supposed to work! The spell… I should have felt the spell break… which means it didn’t… what did I do wrong?

Alara shook her head, staring at her mate. His skin was chilled. He was never cold, not once. Not a king of wolves.

“No,” she muttered. “No, no, no, no.” Her voice broke as sobs took over. “Nik!” she screamed, so loudly she felt her vocal cords might shatter. “Nik! Come back! Come back!”

The mate-bond went taut and snapped. Alara gasped at the sharp pain. It was as if her soul was being torn to pieces. The loss cut her to her core, and she wailed in agony.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

“Nik,” she uttered on a broken whisper, sinking against the altar. The air was unbreathable. It stank too much of Nik’s blood.

Footsteps rushed toward the room. Alara glanced backward, barely able to see through her tears. A tall man she didn’t recognize but who looked oddly familiar stood in the doorway in nothing but jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie. A woman with long red hair stood beside him, both of them taking in the scene in horror. When her bright-green eyes found the altar, her face went pale. “Nik,” she said.

Alara blinked. Did she know him?

The man’s eyes followed the woman’s, and sorrow flickered over his handsome features.

The people around Alara groaned as they got up, their eyes glazed over with silver.

Secret hissed. Black Witch! Mistress Black must have caught wind of where I was and sent two of her cronies to dispose of me!

“What?” Alara said, standing. Her eyes snapped to the redhead, and her blood froze over. Her signature… it was similar to Secret’s.

“Kill them!” Secret screeched, seizing control of Alara’s vocal cords while she was distracted.

Alara fought for control over her body as the DPI and werewolves ran toward the newcomers.

The man in the doorway snarled, eyes turning gold as he lunged forward.

Alara lingered by the altar, watching as the man fought his way past one person after another. His fighting style was vicious and dirty, much like Nik’s. It was impressive how lethal he was. Ducking, punching, and pummeling his way through the legion of guards, the lone werewolf held his own while the witch strolled toward Alara.

Secret hissed. “Stay back,” it growled.

The woman’s lovely face scrunched up in confusion. “There’s something wrong with you,” she mumbled, more to herself than to Alara. “What is it… Silver eyes…” Her face lit up. “Doppelgänger.”

Secret roared, its fear of the witch running rampant in Alara’s body. Like a cornered animal, it lashed out, throwing a blast of dark power at the witch.

The woman flung up a shield of Black Magic, seemingly on a whim. It absorbed Secret’s attack and then evaporated. Those green eyes stared at her as Secret gripped the altar, stumbling alongside it, trying to find the end so it could run.

Alara seized her opportunity. “Help me!” she shouted, pleading with the witch in front of her.

Stay quiet! Secret backhanded her soul, flinging her backward and knocking her into the wall of her consciousness. Alara struggled to get up. She was so tired. The magic had wreaked havoc on her body, like a computer whose circuits had been fried during a power surge.

The woman’s green eyes lit up, glowing neon. “Get out of my sister’s body,” she hissed.

Alara’s soul sat up. Sister?

Throwing out a hand, the woman unleashed a torrent of dark magic. The spell was unlike anything Alara had ever felt before, powerful beyond measure. The dark, shimmering vortex struck up a gale in the room, flinging furniture around and yet somehow never once disturbing Nik’s corpse, which was protected by a sparkling black aura.

The magic swirled around Alara’s body, caging her.

Suddenly, the witch was inside Alara’s mind. The astral projection floated in the air, her bright hair hovering around her as if she were under water. Alara had never seen anything more terrifying.

Until she saw the doppelgänger.

All this time it had been nothing more than a voice, an incorporeal presence. But now her nightmares had been given form.

It was seven feet tall, at least, with limbs much too long for its body and needle-like fingers tipped in claws. Gray, shrunken skin clung to the long, thin bones of its body, which was oddly human in structure. It had no hair, just a gleaming bald scalp, like a bleached skull. Its many teeth were long and sharp and crammed together in an oval-shaped mouth that permanently gaped as a result. Red, many-faceted eyes without lids stared at the witch in loathing.

Alara wanted to throw up. This was the thing that had been inside her?

Secret hissed at the witch. You cannot have her! This body is mine!

It’s not her I want, the witch said, her voice booming with power. Throwing her head back and raising her arms parallel to the ground, palms up, she summoned two orbs of dark magic in either hand.

Secret shrieked, scrambling away and toward Alara.

Alara cried out, stumbling to her feet and running. A boom echoed through her mind. There was a whoosh, a scream.

With a jerk, she was flung back into her own body. Her heart hammered, and she felt cold all over, inside and out. Her pale skin was drenched in sweat, and she collapsed onto the floor.

The magical vortex around her dissipated, revealing the witch standing right in front of her, arms still held high.

The witch smiled. “There are your eyes.”

Alara turned and looked at her reflection in a shard of broken glass on the floor. Her eyes were normal. The silver was at last gone. As was the malevolent presence inside her head.

With a shuddering release of breath, the witch fell to her knees, breathing heavily as she clutched at her head.

Alara started to go to her but stopped. The witch had saved her life, had destroyed the doppelgänger, but she was still a Black Witch. And with the kind of power she’d demonstrated…

Alara swallowed hard. “Thank you,” she said, keeping a wary distance.

The woman smiled weakly. “Don’t mention it.”

All around them, bodies littered the floor, and blood saturated the air. But Nik’s was the only blood she smelled.

The lone wolf hadn’t killed anyone that she could see, merely knocked them out.

The fighting had stopped the moment the Black Witch destroyed the doppelgänger. Those who remained standing now shook their heads, their eyes clearing of the silvery influence of hypnosis. They looked around in confusion and panic.

Alara immediately took charge. “It’s all right,” she said, raising her voice, which was scratchy from screaming. She searched for her Beta, praying he was alive. Sending up silent thanks when she spotted him, she said through their pack-bond, Keep them calm. Initiate Emergency Plan A.

His tone was groggy, but he swiftly responded. Yes, ma’am.

As she watched her second-in-command take control of the situation, wrangling up the distressed wolves and DPI agents, Alara turned to find the lone wolf kneeling beside the witch. He murmured to her, stroking her face with a fierce look of love in his eyes.

She saw the tattoos Marking both of them—they were mated.

The man was shaking his head as they quietly argued, their words so soft Alara couldn’t hear. At last the woman said, “I have to do this now, while the DPI is still distracted and disoriented from the spell, before they realize who we are.”

“But they’ve already seen us.”

“They’ve seen an illusion, an unremarkable brunette and your average Joe. I cast a disguising glamour the second we walked through the door. Don’t worry.” She smiled. “I got this.”

The woman shrugged her mate off, stood, and walked over to the altar. Pain flickered over her face as she gazed at Nik. Placing her hands on his chest, she closed her eyes and began muttering an incantation.

Power hummed in the air, making the small hairs all over Alara’s body stand up. The woman’s hair lifted, her body crackling with black and purple lightning.

Alara started forward, but the man grabbed her wrist. “What is she doing?” Alara asked, glancing back at her mate with worry.

Those dark eyes regarded her solemnly, glimmering with hope. “She’s trying to resurrect him.”

Mistress Black felt the soul of the werewolf drawing closer. One wouldn’t think of werewolves possessing much innate magical ability, but they were created from magic. The curse itself stemmed from Green Magic, and every ounce helped. She was so close to getting her old body back, could feel it in the untapped well of power flowing through her borrowed body’s veins.

For the past few weeks, she’d been camped out in her scrying room, trying to locate the Black Witch whose power had called to her own. It was the only time she’d used her magic at all, not wanting to tax herself too much when she was so close to performing the ritual that would at last restore her soul to its original body.

Thanks to the remnants of the cloaking spell her mother and mentor had placed on her, the witch had evaded her—until now.

The room was small and circular, made out of black marble. Black crystals to amplify her power sat about the scrying well in the middle of the room, an elevated pool of swirling crystalline water cupped by a bowl of silver.

Gas lamps hung from the walls. She had always preferred fire to electric bulbs. She found power and reassurance in the elements, something electricity couldn’t provide.

She prepared herself to absorb the soul, waited for the breathtaking agony as the soul’s life force and magic fused with her own, but it never came.

Someone had stopped the soul from coming to her.

Frowning, she reached out with her own magic, taking it easy, probing the pathway between the enchanted knife and her. The soul was stuck, as if caught in limbo. Someone was pulling it back.

“Resurrection,” she breathed. Focusing on her scrying pool, she spoke an incantation that would reveal the source of the trouble. A woman with curly red hair flashed in the pool, looking so much like her dearly departed daughter, Idrina, that it hurt. And to attempt resurrection, after only coming into her powers… the girl had to be more powerful than Mistress Black had at first thought.

Gripping the edge of the pool, Mistress Black leaned over it. “Show me where she is,” she commanded.

The soul slipped further away, closer to being reunited with its body. And taking any chance of finding her descendant along with it.

Tugging it back, she commanded again, “Show me where she is.”

Idrina—no, Verika—yanked back, her incantation growing stronger. She was persistent. Good.

Mistress Black smiled, pulling harder to buy herself some more time. If she lost a soul in exchange for finding her descendant, a powerful ally, then so be it. This was so much more important than just bringing herself back right now.

Images flashed on the surface of the pool, a slideshow of clues. A forest, a Welcome to Moonstruck, Arkansas, sign along a highway, and a manor with a bronze sign out front that read, Crescent Manor, circa 1875.

Mistress Black released the soul, not wanting Verika to tax herself too much. As she’d learned at a young age, too much playing around with the power of death could bring a witch dangerously close to it herself.

No matter about the soul. She’d have another soon enough. Her subordinates had been working around the clock to bring her what she needed, and she had no doubt they would succeed very soon.

And now, at last, she’d be able to find Verika and bring her home, where she belonged.

Pleased, she started to stand, but a soul as dark as midnight slammed into her, knocking her to her knees. This one was powerful, ancient, and wise.

A Death Fey… a doppelgänger.

Mistress Black laughed as the fire of absorbing the doppelgänger’s vast magic burned through her body.

Like calls to like. One of the cardinal rules of magic.

Verika’s Black Magic had recognized her own and had sent the soul of the doppelgänger to her as a gift. Oh, she probably didn’t realize what she’d done, as she had only come into her power recently, but that was just fine. Mistress Black could teach her so much about her gifts.

And Verika’s were many indeed. There was even a chance she was more powerful than her.

Her dark heir. With two Black Witches leading the Purging, their power would be unstoppable.

Why?

Mistress Black paused. The voice had come from inside her head, a dying plea from the doppelgänger.

Why what? she answered back.

Why… didn’t it… work? So weak—it was almost gone.

Mistress Black smiled. Oh, I knew about your little coup the moment you escaped me. Like calls to like, and you’re a Death fairy. I scanned the brains of the witches you’d possessed to find out what you were after. Your little counterspell didn’t work because while Alara loved Nik, your hatred for me was greater. You were the one to deliver the killing blow, not Alara.

But it was her body!

Her body—your doing. The magic knows the difference. Thus, your hatred kept the spell intact.

An anguished wail was the doppelgänger’s last sound as its power was fully absorbed.

Mistress Black sat there a minute, letting her breathing return to normal before attempting to stand. Her body vibrated with power. The doppelgänger had provided her with what she needed to finally perform the ritual.

At last—she was going to break the debilitating curse placed on her all those years ago.

And when she rose again, her first order would be to find Verika and bring her there.