Free Everlost (The Night Watchmen Series Book 3) by Candace Knoebel

counter-clockwise, over to a small, wooden ball holding a dried-up chameleon. I don’t look away as she drops it into the brew… into the liquid Weldon and I will have to drink.
    My stomach clenches as acid rises up the back of my throat.
    “This is going to be a strong cloaking spell. Clara, or anyone for that matter, won’t be able to see you so long as you stay within the allotted time frame,” Jezi says, stirring it clockwise now. She adds a couple of pinches of black salt, and then moves the pot over to the counter.
    “Are you positive?” Weldon asks, brow raised.
    “Nothing is ever certain when it comes to magic,” Jezi says with a grimace.
    My stomach does a somersault.
    “I don’t know about this. What if something goes wrong?” Jaxen says, chewing away at his nails.
    “Then we’ll figure it out,” I say, trying to be reassuring. “This is the only way. We have to try.”
    “How long will we have?” Weldon asks as I walk over to the brew and take a whiff.
    It smells like vomit. Wonderful.
    “For a potion of this magnitude, it’s probably about forty minutes, but let’s go with thirty just to be on the safe side,” Jezi says as she ladles the concoction into two mugs.
    Don’t throw up.
    I’m grateful that she left the chunky parts in the pot, though I wish I could change the taste of this potion without altering the spell she put into it. Jaxen’s hands slide over my shoulders as he moves behind me.
    “Just drink it fast,” he whispers against my ear.
    Weldon makes his way over to us and takes the mug from Jezi. “Count of three,” he says to me, bringing the mug close to his mouth. “One. Two. Three.”
    My throat is on fire as the steamy liquid passes into my stomach. My tongue burns, though it’s not from the heat. I nearly gag, and I have to bend over and hold onto the counter for support. My whole body shudders as my brain fights to tell my stomach to hold it down. Weldon walks back over to the corner, acting as if it were nothing more than a glass of water.
    “I’m sorry,” Jezi says. “I couldn’t add anything for flavor because it would have altered the potency of the spell.
    I put my hand up, telling her it’s okay.
    “Come on,” Weldon says next to the shadow. “The clock’s ticking.”
    I’m not sure how, but I manage to stand straight. Jaxen helps me slide my arms through the stuffed phantom cloth bag, and then walks me over to Weldon. Our bodies are already beginning to disappear, beginning with our fingers.
    “Please,” he says, staring into Weldon’s eyes, “take care of her.”
    “You know I will,” Weldon says seriously. He takes my hand. “We’ll be back in a jiffy.”
    And then we enter the shadow.

 
     
    ETHRYEAL CITY IS EXACTLY HOW WE LEFT IT.
    The golden-orbed sun slides up the side of the stark white buildings, its beams of bright light streaking through the city like fingers trying to rouse the citizens from sleep. The rays reach to the canal, gently passing over, stirring it awake until it glitters like a sea of turquoise gems. The early morning sounds of the Night Watchmen News broadcasted on the Jumbotron in City Square murmur down every street and through every alleyway, ensuring everyone knows I’m still on the loose.
    I don’t know what I expected to see. Chaos? Destruction? Darkness? Because that’s what I’ve felt for so long now. So much so, that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to feel anything other than that again.
    It’s in my marrow now. In every cell, which bursts every time I think about all the wrongs that have happened with no justification in sight.
    Maybe I thought—or maybe I had hoped—that the members of our Coven would finally see who Clara really is when we were wrongly accused in court that day. That they’d see the layers I peeled from her face when I stood up against her, exposing the monster underneath. The same kind of monster that lurks under your bed, hides in your closet, or stands behind the shower