Harley Merlin and the Mystery Twins by Bella Forrest

Author:Bella Forrest [Forrest, Bella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nightlight Press
Published: 2018-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty

Harley

Wade drove like the devil, darting down the streets and taking sharp turns, slipping between lanes and cars, as we rushed to the Cranstons’ place. As soon as the Jeep screeched to a halt outside, I knew the worst had happened.

The front door was open, and I wasn’t getting any emotions from inside the house.

The silence was almost unbearable.

Little Micah…

We jumped out of the car and raced inside. My heart stopped for a moment, dread clutching my throat. The hallway side table was knocked over. Papers and shoes were scattered across the floor. Jackets and hats, too. The wall mirror was down, broken into hundreds of shards.

“Weren’t there supposed to be alarm charms and traps in place in here?” I whispered.

“Yes. I don’t think they worked as intended,” Wade replied.

His rings lit up bright orange, ready to hit in case of an attack. He moved forward, carefully stepping over the items on the floor. This was definitely a crime scene, and we needed to touch it as little as possible, for the purpose of a proper investigation.

Wade cursed under his breath when he saw the living room. Santana, Raffe, and I reached him. We all froze.

Horror cut my breath off. I saw Susan and Larry lying on the floor, in the middle of the living room. They were both dead, staring at the ceiling with eyes wide open—lifeless and glassy. Their throats had been slit. Blood had pooled around their heads. Their skin was paler than usual, but rigor mortis had yet to properly set in, judging by the color of their lips.

“Oh, God,” I gasped.

Wade went in and checked the bodies. He whispered a spell as he moved his hand over Susan and Larry. His rings lit up white as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

“They’ve been dead for ten, fifteen minutes, tops,” he said. “They bled out.”

“Micah!” I shouted, praying to Chaos itself to hear him or see him alive. “Micah! Can you hear me? It’s Harley! MICAH!”

Santana squeezed my shoulder. “He’s not here, querida,” she murmured, wearing a pained look on her face. “Neither is the Orisha I left with him.”

I broke into a cold sweat as I looked around the room. There had been a violent fight here. The coffee table was knocked over. Most of the books from the shelves were on the floor. Coffee had been spilled on the carpet, the cups smashed into pieces. The framed photographs were down, the glass broken and smoke swirling from beneath.

“What… What the hell?” I croaked, pointing at one of the images.

The photograph showed Susan and Larry, holding a little boy between them—Micah, only his face had been burned out. The others were the same. Everywhere I looked, Micah’s face had been taken out with fire.

Santana came by my side. “That’s not good,” she said. “That’s a very ugly and dark spell.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Obliviscaris in Perpetuum,” Wade breathed as he joined us. “It’s a forbidden curse. It rips a person out of everything.

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