Free Light Shadows by S. L. Jennings Page B

completely ridiculous. My gaze flicks up to Dorian, and I silently plead for help.
    “We are what you and other humans would consider witches and warlocks,” he says, answering my desperate prayer. “But that’s putting it mildly. Centuries ago, the creator of all things—the Divine Power—created us to rule the night. We are called Dark Ones. In the same respect, he created Light Enchanters, rulers of the day. Together we are the purest form of magic. The original power. And Gabriella is both Light and Dark, making her the most powerful of us all.”
    Morgan’s brown eyes grow so wide that they touch her eyebrows. She looks at me like she wants to believe Dorian’s words but can’t. Like she’s trying to see the magic in me but her logic won’t let her. “No. Fucking. Way. A witch, Gabs? Seriously? Are you guys fucking high?”
    “No,” I reply shaking my head. “As much as I wish I weren’t, I’m stone-cold sober. It’s true, Morgan. I found out a year ago—the same day I first met Dorian—what I actually am and what I was destined to be when I turned twenty-one. Today.”
    She shakes her head frantically, refusing to trust my words. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe what you’re telling me. I won’t believe it. Magic? That’s fucking ridiculous! It doesn’t exist. Witches, warlocks…whatever you are…it doesn’t fucking exist!”
    In one swift movement, I flip over her hands to expose her wrists. The skin is a bit cold to the touch, paper-thin and almost iridescent, yet otherwise unmarred. “Look, Morgan. What do you see? When we found you, you were dying. Dying! How do you explain this? What could have possibly happened to make you heal so quickly?”
    Morgan looks down at her arms, studying the smooth skin that once was open and bleeding with a laceration down to the bone. “I can’t believe it. It can’t be.”
    “You know in your heart that what I’m telling you is true, don’t you? Remember what you told me about your grandmother? Remember you said that she came to you when we were at Breckenridge? I believed you, Morgan. Without question, I believed you. I need you to do that for me now. And I promise, I’ll explain more when I can. But for now, just hear what I’m saying to you. Everything that you thought was myth is real. The world that you know is so much more complex than you could ever imagine. Magic is real. And whatever happened to you last night—whatever pushed you to that point of desperation—has tied you to mine, whether you like it or not.
    In an act of assurance, or maybe just flat-out stupidity, I remove my hands from hers, completely stepping out on faith and hoping that she—my friend and sister—truly hears me. “I’m not going anywhere, Morgan. So you can fight me—you can kick and scream—but until we find out what happened to you, you’re stuck with me. With all of us.”
    Silent moments turn into several minutes as she ponders my vehement declaration. Rehashing all the stories about her grandmother and her heritage that she thought was all nonsense. Remembering that night on our ski trip that had her shaken and teary-eyed when her grandmother appeared to her, warning her of the darkness that lurked nearby. She knew then. She knew there were things beyond our world that science and logic could not explain. Things so much more complex than our vapid little realm of shopping and club-hopping.
    Morgan knows. I can see it in her. I can feel it in her. She believes me. Now I just hope she will believe in me.
    “You know this is incredibly fucked up, right?”
    I give a one-shoulder shrug and nod. “I know.”
    She shakes her head. “And you know only a mental patient would believe this story. That you have to be absolutely insane to take stock in any of this shit.”
    “I know.”
    She takes a resigning breath before looking up at me, her eyes devoid of any inkling of rage or fear. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m crazy as hell.”

“SO