the chain from my neck. The glittery purple glow ignites in her hand again as she shouts. “Animam tuam!” The light levitates from her hand and slams into my stomach.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” I’ve never felt so ill in my entire life as I collapse back, my stomach radiating with so much light I can hardly see.
Through the brightness, I spot Laylen and Aislin working quickly to remove the Mark of Malefiscus from a witch’s wrist while the others close in on them. I blink crazily, waiting for the spell to do something—hurt me, kill me, turn me into a bunny or something else equally as crazy. The thought makes me violently sick and overwhelmed with guilt.
I should’ve just stayed inside. If not for myself, for it.
I stare down at my belly, feeling the smallest bit of relief when nothing seems to happen.
The witch’s expression drops before she grabs hold of my arm, whispering words I don’t understand.
I dig my fingers into her hands, stabbing my nails into her skin. “Let me go.” I jerk back, but she tightens her grip.
“You’re the one,” she whispers, her eyes widening in awe. “It’s you.”
She has to mean the star. Shit. This is so bad since she’s marked. What if word gets back to Stephan that she saw me here?
No. I can’t let that happen.
I crane back my arm before slamming my fist into her face, my knuckles cracking against her nose, the sound enough to make me sick. Her eyes roll back and her lips part as she slips into unconsciousness and slumps against the ground.
I jump to my feet, only breathing freely again when I see Aislin and Laylen are safe, and the other witches are wandering around, free of the Mark of Evil, confused over how they got here.
I dust the snow off my clothes. “This one knows who I am,” I tell Aislin, picking up my locket the witch ripped from my neck.
“Okay, I’ll make sure to erase her memory before I take the mark off,” Aislin says, walking over.
I nod, feeling guilty over erasing someone’s mind. Even if it’s to protect, having my own mind wiped clean makes me have a soft spot for anyone else who has to endure the loss of their memories. Then I look down at my stomach and remember that drastic measures have to be taken to protect everyone.
I retreat to the house, not wanting to watch Aislin as she slips her fingers into the witch’s head to extract her memories.
Laylen races after me, snagging my hand as we enter the kitchen. “It has to be done, Gemma. No one can know where you are.”
I bob my head up and down, but tears prickle at my eyes. If I had never messed around with visions to begin with, this mess wouldn’t exist. I keep the thought to myself, though, because Laylen would only try to convince me none of this is my fault. That’s just who he is—a kind, caring person who feels bad for everything and who’s always worrying about me. I don’t want that. I want the same thing for him as he wants for me—for him to live a happy life.
I rub my stomach, which isn’t glowing anymore yet burns like I’m hungry. I hold my breath until I hear the steady beat of a second heart. I’m surprised by how relieved I am to still hear it, and then I feel the softest tap of a prickle prodding at the back of my neck.
“The witch, she threw a spell at me,” I tell Laylen with my hand still pressed against my stomach.
“What kind of spell?” Aislin asks as she walks inside. She shuts the back door, locking the dead bolts before collapsing against the door, looking exhausted.
I rack my mind for the words the witch uttered when she threw the spell at me. “Animam tuam.”
Aislin’s eyes pop wide, and her back straightens as she stands upright. “Oh, fuck.”
Panic knocks the breath out of me. “What’d she do to me?”
“I don’t . . . It’s just that . . .” Aislin stares at the floor, avoiding my gaze.
“Just spit it out,” Laylen and I shout at the same time.
Aislin gulps, meeting my gaze. “She took your life.”
“No . . . No . . . No . . .” I shake my head as my knees give out on me. I listen for the heartbeat, hoping to hear it again, but everything seems so quiet—too quiet.