and shallow as she fought to resist the lure of the mating. “Okay,” she said after a long minute. “Talk first. Then sex.”
“I agree,” he said, his arm tightening around her. “So, that night. I’ve told you most of it already, but you’re now remembering it for yourself, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Everything Torin had already told her still resonated inside her. And as her memories had risen to the surface of her mind, she had seen it all so clearly, as if a part of her were trapped on that long-ago night and she was doomed to relive it over and over again in some twisted sort of loop. Like a mental journal, the pages of her life flipped past, showering her with the long-dead echoes of horrific sounds and scents and colors.
Yet, despite everything, there was a small, very secret part of her that was . . . excited by the memory. There was a dark place within her that relished every scream, every jolt of terror, every moment of danger that clung to the ancient images.
In the deepest part of her heart, Shea worried not about Torin’s trustworthiness but about her own. She couldn’t tell him what she was feeling. What she was dreading. But the truth was, Shea was terrified that along with her newfound powers the woman she had once been was being awakened.
That witch had been willing to lose everything that mattered to her in her quest for knowledge and power. What if she hadn’t evolved as much as Torin thought she had? What if the darkness was still there inside her, simply locked away behind a door of secrets?
“You and your sisters would listen to no one,” he said, his voice soft, low with memory and regret. “You were set on a dark path but couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see it. There was hunger for knowledge, yes. But more, there was the promise of power. Power such as no one had ever known before.”
The afternoon sunlight, the luxurious ship, the tumult of her present life all faded away as Shea closed her eyes and let the lost images inside her rise. She saw it all, experienced it all, as his voice continued.
“The coven drew down the moon, gathered their energies and pushed their combined strength through the Artifact.”
She saw it, as she had that long-ago night. Lightning whips of white light, brilliant in the dark. Jagged, scorching, the air sizzling as bolt after bolt jumped from witch to witch, the light itself growing, becoming something else.
“The black silver glowed and hummed with the accumulation of power. Lightning was everywhere, like a living beast.” He paused, lost in his memories. Shea shuddered as her own mind continued playing out the scene.
“There was a blinding light,” he said in a whisper. “Brighter than the sun at midday. And in an instant, everything changed. The Artifact opened a portal.”
“The Hell gate,” Shea said, feeling the sudden rush of a twisted sort of excitement along with a growing sense of dread.
“Yes,” Torin whispered. “Demons poured from the opening in numbers too many to count. Lucifer himself appeared and laughed at our feeble attempts to contain his minions. To restrain him. But we had no choice. We could not stand by and watch this legion descend on an earth unable to defend itself.
“We Eternals fought them, killing some, tossing more back through the gateway to their hell. But as the battle raged, we tried to get to you. The coven. Our witches. The strength of your circle kept us out, unable to reach you. Unable to help you. All we could do was fight the creatures your spell had released.”
Shea heard the hiss of the candle flames, battling the sharp wind. Heard the shrieks of the demons and the shouts of the Eternals. She heard her own voice, rising with those of her sisters as they realized at last what their greed and arrogance had brought them to. They chanted then, despite the fear, despite the battles raging around them, and the voices, once lost in time, resonated once again in her mind.
“The coven,” Torin went on, “seeing at last what they had done, joined the battle. Banding together, they worked as one. As they had joined their powers to open the portal, they directed their energies at closing the very door they had pried open.”
She remembered. More, she lived the memory. Her heart, her soul, sang with the growth of the shadows. She felt the seduction of the dark calling to her