Seventh Born by Monica Sanz

Author:Monica Sanz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gothic; Boarding School; Magic; Detective; Witches; Mystery; ghosts; Teen and Young Adult Paranormal and Urban Fantasy; Teen and Young Adult Fantasy Action and Adventure; Teen and Young Adult Fantasy Romance; Teen and Young Adult Paranormal Romance; Teen and Young Adult Fantasy; Teen and Young Adult Romance; Teen and Young Adult Literature and Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Coming of Age Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Girls and Women Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Loners and Outcasts Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Social and Family Issue Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Emotions and Feelings Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Friendship Fiction; Teen and Young Adult New Experiences Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Magical Realism Fiction; Teen and Young Adult Myths and Legends; Teen and Young Adult Coming of Age Fantasy; Teen and Young Adult Contemporary Fantasy; Teen and Young Adult Epic Fantasy; Teen and Young Adult Fairy Tales and Folklore; Teen and Young Adult Sword and Sorcery Fantasy;
Publisher: Entangled TEEN
Published: 2018-07-06T16:00:00+00:00

16

burn or flee

Morning dawned with glum, gray skies, much like the mood Sera had woken to. She lay deathly still, thoughts of the previous night playing above her like smoke. Isobel and Ophelia. The Barghest. Barrington.

She shut her eyes tight, willing the spell chamber to appear once more. She would pull, shake, claw at the gates—cry and beg them to release the memories they held hostage. Regardless of how the hot metal scalded her hands. Of how it branded her palms. With her memories, she would no longer need to be an inspector. She would not need him anymore, and maybe, just maybe, the hellish ache in her chest would leave her be.

But there was nothing to be seen save the black of her closed lids.

Sobs came hard and fast on the heels of her thoughts. She rolled to her side, curled into herself, the emptiness and disappointment more painful than she could bear. It was over and, although Barrington said he would fix the scene, Sera knew there was no fixing them. No magic or pain or regret in the world could reverse the hands of time, could take her back to the tunnel and force her mind to overrule her heart and heed Barrington’s orders to leave him.

Tears fragmented her room into a crackled image as a subsequent cry emptied her of air. It was too late to change anything now. She had lost her dream. She had lost him. Gone were their evenings of practice and magic, of pleasant conversation where for hours she belonged, valued and unafraid. Gone was the man who’d gifted her those mere moments of beautiful normalcy in the midst of torture, murder, and death. Who had somehow integrated himself into her every day, burrowed beneath the walls she’d erected in her heart, built of the pain Noah left in his wake. Who’d swept into her life like a breeze but whose departure left her as the shattered ruins of a hurricane.

Strands of hair clung to her tear-dampened face. She brushed them away and, desperate, pressed her cold hands down on her face, her arms, her shoulders, if only to feel a touch of the safety and warmth she felt in Barrington’s company and arms. If only to dispel a bit of the terrible, hollowing solitude.

Feeling nothing but cold skin, she let her hands slip away. What was the point? She had ruined things with Barrington. Once their magic was discovered at the scene, they would be blamed for the murders and be imprisoned, and she would never see him again.

She swallowed tightly and watched the embers die in the fireplace. There was no need to relight the firebox. Not even the fires of hell could warm the stark chill that covered her bones and stabbed at her heart.

…

Later that day, the sky was still a dismal painting, dark gray clouds on a light gray backdrop. The wind shifted, and with it, the temperatures plunged. Sera sat on a stone bench in the courtyard, curled into her cloak.

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