Free King of the Damned: A League of Guardians Novel by Juliana Stone Page B

Nothing good could come of it if she unleashed her rage on Hannah.
    Her cousin’s face whitened, and she took a step backward—her blue eyes wide and frozen, the pupils bleeding through with the sifting blackness of an oil spill.
    “No,” she whispered. Hannah took a step toward her and faltered, her boot scraping the deck. “How?” she said hoarsely.
    “Mallick, of course. Who else?”
    Hannah stared at her for several long moments, tears filling the corners of her eyes, which she made no effort to wipe away. A visible shudder rolled over her body, and she clasped her arms around her chest.
    “The other night I felt something but I . . .” She paused and fought for control. “I had no idea Cara was in trouble.”
    Rowan leaned her hip against the railing. “Knowing my grandmother, she shielded you and the rest of the coven. She wouldn’t want you anywhere near The Black Cauldron when Mallick attacked.”
    “I should have gone to her. I knew something was wrong.”
    “Yes, you should have.”
    Hannah’s eyes darkened with hurt, but there was something else there. Accusation.
    Rowan shook her head and looked away. Hannah was right. “ I should have been there, too.” The fist of pain in her chest tightened even more, and Rowan leaned both her hands on top of the railing. God, she felt like shit.
    Two scuffed-up boots stopped beside her, and though Rowan wanted nothing more than to hug her cousin tight and cry for all things lost, she couldn’t. There was no time.
    “How has it come to this?” she whispered instead.
    A rumble in the distance signaled a turn in the weather, underscored by a sudden gust of wind that blew thick ropes of her hair into the air. The sun disappeared, and her chilled flesh gave credence to the quick drop in temperature.
    “Rowan.”
    Rowan stared down at the wandering vines that crept along the foundation of the Brick House. The edges were no longer green but crap brown, ruined from cold nights and the blankets of frost that accompanied them. She didn’t know what to say and needed a moment to collect her thoughts.
    “Rowan, please look at me.”
    I can’t.
    She took a moment, gathered her strength, then carefully pushed away from the railing before turning to Hannah.
    “I’m sorry,” her cousin whispered, bottom lip tremulous though she managed to keep her voice steady. “So, sorry.”
    Rowan nodded. “I know.”
    “Six years ago—”
    “I can’t talk about that, Hannah,” Rowan interrupted. “It’s in the past and right now those ghosts need to stay there. There’s no time for stuff that doesn’t matter anymore.” How could she make her understand? “A war is coming our way, and we need to prepare.”
    “I don’t understand.” Hannah frowned.
    Rowan turned and glanced at the gathering clouds. “He’s marked the coven.”
    “Mallick? But why?” Her voice gained some strength. “It’s you that he wants.”
    “But he can’t find me. The mark is blind, remember?”
    Hannah’s face whitened. “But why would he mark the coven? What good would that do? None of us are the kind of witch that he wants.” Her tone was harder.
    You are.
    The words weren’t spoken, but Rowan read them in Hannah’s eyes. It seemed old wounds were still raw, but she chose to ignore the obvious dig.
    “I don’t think he cares about that. I think Mallick wants to make the James witches pay for keeping me from him, and if it takes eliminating the entire coven to get to me, that’s what he’ll do.”
    “Mother-trucker,” Hannah bit out. “So what are we going to do?”
    Rowan met her gaze full on and welcomed the fire that burned in her gut. It was the one what was going to get her through the next few weeks. The one that would get her to the end.
    “We fight back. We need to gather the coven. Right now we’re scattered across the state, and we’re weak.”
    Hannah nodded. “All right. I can make some calls.”
    “Good, because I have no idea where anyone is.”
    “I