Maya cast a quick, uncertain glance at Angelo before slowly unwrapping her arms from around herself. Her steps were tentative as she approached Sam, who sat crumpled on the floor, his hands clutching a shattered angel statue like it was the last piece holding him together. She knelt down in front of him, drawing his dark, haunted eyes to hers as she offered a gentle smile.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured, reaching out with her scarred hand, placing it gently over his trembling one. The warmth of her touch seemed to anchor him as his gaze locked onto hers. “This is just like before, remember? When you told me to relax, to breathe in and out, and to look into your eyes.” Her voice was steady, soothing, as she brushed a stray lock of hair from his face with her other hand. “Look at me, Sam. Concentrate on Jason.”
Her fingers tightened slightly over his, offering silent support as his breathing began to steady. She kept her gaze fixed on his, the intensity of her focus like a lifeline. “You can do this,” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet conviction. “I know you can.”
Sam’s body began to relax, the tension slowly draining away as his pupils dilated, then pulsated, before finally bleeding out completely, leaving nothing but a deep, unsettling black. His hands shifted, trapping Maya’s scarred palm between both of his, the broken angel still clutched tightly.
The room fell into a hushed silence, every eye on them. Maya could feel the weight of their collective anxiety, but she kept her focus on Sam. This time, she wasn’t dragged into his vision, but she knew—she just knew—that he was seeing something. His eyes, now fully black, seemed to stare into another world, his body almost eerily still, except for the slight trembling of his hands as they clutched hers.
Maya continued to gently stroke his hair, maintaining the fragile connection, her own breath synced with his. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. Sam’s pupils contracted rapidly, the whites and browns of his eyes returning as he gasped for breath, his chest heaving.
“It’s okay!” Maya’s voice was firm but soft as she coaxed his gaze back to hers. “You’re fine. You did it.”
“What did you see?” Dawson’s voice broke through the silence, filled with a mix of urgency and fear.
“I—” Sam swallowed hard, his hand going to his head as if to push back the pain. “They were scared. So scared.” He groaned, pressing his palm harder against his forehead, the pain evident on his pale face. “I couldn’t hear everything, but... they thought someone was after them. After Jason.” His eyes flicked up to Maya’s, wide with fear. “A witch. They thought an evil witch was coming for Jason, that he was in danger. That’s why they left.”
Harper gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she turned to Clarissa, her voice trembling. “We have to find them! We have to help!”
Clarissa stood silent, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed the information. Then, in a move that shocked everyone, she turned away from them, walking toward the window, her back to the group. “Maybe we should just let them go,” she said, her voice cold and detached.
“No!” Harper’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, surprising everyone as she stood up, her fists clenched. “Jason is part of my Coven, and he’s in danger! He needs us! I won’t leave him when he needs me the most!”
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“You’ll have to miss school,” Clarissa mused, her tone almost indifferent.
“I can catch up when we’ve saved Jason and he’s back here with us,” Harper shot back, her eyes blazing with determination.
“I don’t have anyone to look after the shop,” Clarissa continued, her voice laced with challenge.
“I can take care of that,” Maya offered quietly, rising to her feet as Sam mirrored her movement.
Clarissa turned to face her, an unreadable expression on her face. “You would?”
Maya nodded, her voice calm and steady. “Yeah. I can’t go with you, but I can help in that way. I’m good with managing things, and I learn quickly. I’m sure you have a few books on floral arrangements I can study.” She wrapped her arms around herself again, her vulnerability showing for a brief moment. “The boys will help me too, of course,” she added, glancing at them. None of them even tried to deny it. “By the time you come back with Jason, the shop will be in better shape than when you left.”
Clarissa’s eyes softened just slightly, her lips twitching into something almost resembling a smile before she nodded. She turned to Harper. “We have to leave now if we have any hope of catching their trail.”
Harper nodded, then turned to Maya, pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you.” She moved to hug the boys as well, whispering something to Dawson, who nodded solemnly, before rushing outside to her car. “Come on, Aunt Clarissa!”
Clarissa handed Maya a set of keys, her gaze piercing. “I trust I’ll come back to find my shop just the way I left it.”
Maya took the keys, her grip firm. “Merry part and merry meet again,” she replied, her voice tinged with sincerity.
Clarissa’s lips twitched further, and she gave a curt nod to the boys before following Harper out the door. The room fell silent once more as they listened to the car door slam shut, followed by the engine roaring to life and the tires squealing as it sped away into the night.
“She promised they’d bring Jason and his parents back,” Dawson whispered, his eyes fixed on a picture of him and Jason that hung on the wall. “And that they’d protect him if someone’s really after him.”
“What do we do now?” Sam’s voice was soft, uncertain, as he stared at the broken angel still in his hands.
“We help around Clarissa’s flower shop,” Angelo declared, his gaze shifting to Maya.
Maya could feel the unspoken questions in his eyes—questions about why she would take over the shop of the woman she should be avoiding. But for now, she was just grateful for his trust and support.
Jason wandered through the empty corridors of the Allen Manor, a cold shiver running down his spine. The place felt less like a home and more like the Minotaur’s labyrinth—dark, oppressive, and filled with shadows that seemed to move on their own. But that wasn’t surprising. The Allens had never been the warm and welcoming type, despite their role as leaders of the Coven.
He had known Howard Allen since they were kids. Their parents had been in a Coven together, and it only made sense that the children would bind their own Coven, just as their ancestors had done before them. Jason’s own parents had been two of the most powerful members, a fact that Edward Teague and Genevieve Capet never let Lionel forget, especially when the man got a little too arrogant.
Growing up, they had all heard the stories—tales of Austen James, of the legendary James lineage, and of the debt owed to their Coven. A debt that everyone thought would never be repaid after the news of James’s death sent shockwaves through the magical world.
But the fact that Austen James and his children were still alive was the only reason Jason’s parents didn’t lose their minds when he decided to go to Harvest Grove. The relationship between the Coven here and his own had never been great, especially with the deep-seated feud between the Capets and the Duponts. It had been Genevieve’s ancestor, Duchess Gertrude, who had sentenced Countess Victoria Dupont and her two closest Coven mates, Madelyn Burns and Brianna Withridge, to be burned at the stake. Ever since that day, the Capets and Duponts had been locked in a bitter war, their hatred passed down through generations.
And now, here he was, in the middle of it all, walking through a house that felt more like a tomb. The air was thick with the weight of history, of grudges that spanned centuries, and Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched—by something far older and far more dangerous than he could comprehend.