WITCHCRAFT (A Paranormal Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

some wax on his hands onto his shirt. He grinned at her, and she grinned back.
    “Hell yeah, let's do this.”
    They sat in the circle, and Lance held his hands out to her. She grabbed them, and their arms formed a diamond around the three candles in the center of the circle. He closed her eyes, and so did she. They both silently repeated the prayer to call Elaninri Fleaas from her resting place, to join them for a few moments.
    They waited, and there was nothing, until suddenly there was a scream. Terra jumped, and Lance's mouth fell open in horror as the flames grew and the apparition of his mother formed.
    He was supposed to ask her where to go, what to look for, but his mouth wasn't moving. They didn't have long. Terra held his hands tight.
    “Elaninri, where is Anai? Who stole your Medal of Honor?” Her eyes flicked to Lance. He was horrified.
    There were only screams, ear piercing screams that drilled into one's heart.
    “Where is Queen Anai? Who stole your Medal of Honor?” Terra repeated.
    Finally, the apparition spoke through the scream. “Find The Great Sage!”
    And the apparition was gone. Lance slumped forward as all the candles went dark. Terra broke the circle by wiping away the chalk with her bare foot and flicked the lights on to find him sobbing, his whole body shaking. “She's being punished even in death! She's being punished for something she didn't do!”
    He turned his face up to her, tears falling from his chin. She ached, she ached everywhere, wanting, somehow, to heal his pain. Wanting to kiss his lips. Wanting to be his savior.
    She didn't know how to comfort him, so she didn't. “Come on, you can mourn later. For now, we have to prepare. We have a mountain to climb.”
    Terra took his hand and helped him up, pulling Lance into a tight embrace. They kissed until his tears stopped.

Chapter Three
     
    Terra and Lance's faces were stinging and red from the cold. Neither were prepared for the steep climb up Varangoi Mountain, despite Terra insisting on buying warmer clothes and gear for both of them.
    Lance had protested using her money, but she wouldn't let him say no. She felt responsible to him. Plus, he looked cute in the turtleneck sweater she gave him.
    Her thoughts swirled with passions and emotions, things she kept to herself and some things she kept from herself. The way his fingers felt when they brushed a snowflake from her face, for instance, made her warm even in the frigid cold. The way his eyes watched her, ready to move if she fell on sharp rocks, made her feel safe. The way he touched her as he helped her up onto a ledge made her feel wanted, and left her wanting. Needing. Desiring.
    While her mind was still focused on her mother, her heart was focused on him, and it confused her. If it came to a choice of finding Queen Anai, or keeping Lance alive and near her, which would she choose? Which would he want her to choose?
    She wondered, too, if he had the same questions. Would he avenge his mother if it meant Terra must die?
    She shuddered and continued walking on the path up the mountain. Jagged and broken, it wasn't a well-worn path. Few climbed Varangoi, the largest mountain of the Kylfing Mountain Range. This was for a few reasons.
    One, the range stood between Mindren and France. France was the stronghold for Vampires, where they were more like a plague and nearly outnumbered humans. They still kept their existence secret, but only barely, and only because they used slaves to keep their blood lust out of the public eye.
    Just being that close to France was enough to keep most witches out of the mountains, but it was the people who inhabited the mountains that really scared them away. Feral vampires, bloodthirsty and often starving, lived in the caves carved eons ago by their stronger ancestors.
    They were already halfway up the mountain, and fatigue was setting in for both of them. Chewing on rabbit jerky, Lance turned to Terra. “I think we should rest,” he said.
    She