Free The Four Horsemen (The Light Series) by Tara Brown

biggie.”
    She
passes me a long black skirt with layers like a dead bride’s dress and a black
corset shirt. I give her the puppy-dog eyes, “I don’t want to be cold too. It’s
not funny when it’s me suffering.”
    She
shakes her head, “The clothes have to be black. If your underwear aren’t black,
you have to take them off.”
    Wyatt
gives her a cocky, asshole grin. “I don’t like wearing them anyway.”
    She
can’t fight the attraction to him. None of them can. I can’t either. It’s one
thing that he’s stop-traffic hot—it’s completely another that he’s a Van
Helsing, and all things like us are attracted to him. He pulls off the hoodie
and slips on the dress shirt. She turns around as he drops his trousers, with
no regard for either of us. He smells the jeans, “These are clean, right?”
    “Of
course. They’re magic.”
    He
chuckles, “Well, when was the last wedding?”
    She
turns back around as he zips the zipper, “Not too long ago, but he only kept
them on for an hour or so.”
    Wyatt’s
face goes still. She laughs. He shakes his head, “Not funny, witch.”
    She
shrugs, “Like the sin eater says, you just don’t have a sense of humor, do
you?”
    He
steps forward, “I do, it just seems the things I think
are funny offend everyone else.”
    She
swallows hard. I turn around with the corset over my breasts, “Can someone do
this up?”
    Wyatt
touches me, making me jump , “Her—can she do it?”
    Lila
comes and does the bra and corset over it up. She whispers in my ear, “The
clothes are new. We manifest them for weddings.”
    I
smile, “Thanks.”
    She
nods, “Let him sweat it out though, huh?”
    I
nod.
    She
opens a different door on the other side of the room and leaves through it. We
walk up the stairs to a garden. It is dark and dreary. I can feel the wrinkled
nose and disgusted look. When I see the first headstone, I gag.
    She
laughs, “Fire witches don’t normally need the help of the dead to seal
something like this, but you two just broke one off. That leaves a stain. If we
didn’t have a full coven and all our ancestors buried beneath us, we wouldn’t
even be able to do it.”
    We
walk to where a gathering of women wearing black dresses stand around an old
headstone.
    I
have the funniest feeling like I’m not making the right choice. The dead are
there, I can feel them for the first time in ages. The other girls inside of
me, the other versions of me, are gone. They are silent, probably in protest,
but I don’t care. I want to touch him and kiss him and make love to him, like I
never have but I know I can.
    Constantine’s
name whispers through my mind, but that’s the only place it is. He is not in my
heart. He is not my choice , he is
theirs . I do not believe in being able to love two people at once. I am
hardly able to say I love Wyatt. I know I do, but my heart is broken, and I
don’t know why or how to fix it.
    We
walk to the women who look almost like a murder of crows instead of a group of
women. They are all draped in black. Mist trails through the graves and circles
the women.
    Lila
leads us to the headstone and holds her hand out, “In the middle.”
    She
cuts a doorway in the circle of mist with her finger. We step through it. The
dark-haired one smiles, “Hold both hands and look at each other.”
    Suddenly,
I see they all have unlit black candles in their hands. I wince, remembering
the pain. The dark-haired one holds her hands like she is holding an orb. She
chants and whispers, and as the magic brews, the flames grow higher on the
candles and a ball of flames grows between her hands. She holds it to the sky;
the winds come, bringing clouds and more darkness. The clouds dance and rub
against each other making a low rumble in the skies. Lightning shoots from the
darkest part, touching the ball of light in her hands.
    Wyatt
looks nervous. I feel the dead in the air, sparkling around me, excitedly.
    Her
crazed chants and whispers become shouts as the