Portrait of Doom (The Witch Punk Files Book 3) by Lyn South & Michael Anderle

Author:Lyn South & Michael Anderle [South, Lyn & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2024-03-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Ancestors’ anger was a palpable force, thick in the air, setting everyone’s nerves on edge. Standing there feeling the wrath directed at Dr. Thornwood, I felt small, like a kid caught up in mischief with her. A tight knot of anxiety twisted in my gut as I wondered how badly Thornwood had messed up to earn the Ancestors’ fury.

“Now that she no longer hides from us, we shall show you her hubris.” Their voices rose in pitch as they lifted into the air. “You shall see the reasons for our wrath."

Slowly, they circled above us like a coven of hawks on the hunt. Around and around they went, picking up speed with each pass until they were nothing but a tornado of history and power that made the candles around us flicker wildly in the wind. My hair whipped around my face, and beside me, Ruby's eyes were wide, fixed on the spinning spectacle above us.

The blur of the Ancestors' flight slowed but didn’t stop. They remained suspended in midair as they wove intricate magic with their hands, producing sparks and glimmers of light that fell into the circle around Dr. Thornwood. It coalesced into human-shaped clouds from which two women and one man materialized, their ghostly figures standing defiant and strong in the heart of our ring.

One woman was in a pale green dress. It cinched at her waist before billowing into a voluminous, crinoline-supported skirt. Lace accents adorned the cuffs and neckline, enhancing her elegance. Her hair, styled in a refined Victorian fashion, featured playful curls framing her face. It was clear the woman in green was Dr. Thornwood.

The second lady was dressed more grandly in a pastel lavender gown with sleeves and bodice intricately decorated with floral embroidery. The fabric’s quality suggested she might be nobility. Her hair was done up like the first lady's but with beautiful diamond-studded pins that sparkled when she moved.

The man wore a dark, knee-length frock coat layered over a waistcoat and a white shirt with one of those high, stiff collars. His trousers matched the coat and were neatly tucked into shiny leather boots.

Thornwood’s eyes went wide. Seeing her younger self brought a mix of emotions. A faint smile fought through the sadness in her eyes. Her expression shifted as she stared at the second woman, and a wave of regret and sorrow washed over her face.

Elysia's face hardened when her gaze landed on the man, and the fire in her eyes sprang from deep-seated hate. She couldn't stand the sight of the guy, whoever he was.

A telepathic nudge from Flick buzzed in my head. Does that dude remind you of someone? Her thought cut through the intensity of the moment, redirecting my focus.

I squinted at the man's figure, which was frustratingly blurry, like an out-of-focus photograph. The more I stared, trying to make sense of his features, the stronger the feeling of déjà vu became. I knew him, but I didn’t know from where. I sent a message back to Flick.

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