Cursed (The Spellbound Series, #2)

17 | The Ones We Love

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Chapter 17 – The Ones We Love

The air was rife with many sounds; the wind's chilling howl slipped in through cracks at the windows and doors, the wicks of the candles placed about the floor sizzled as their flames danced, and in the distance was water boiling on the stove, and the clatter and clang of plastic and metal. But it was all background noise to Landon, who could only hear the silence of Sam's motionless body growing cold in his arms.

How long did he have left? An hour? Mere minutes, or seconds? Landon had no way of knowing. He couldn't have known the night before that it would be important in any way to check the time the exact moment they did the spellbinding ritual. In the state that Sam was, he might as well have already been dead, the only sign contradicting that deduction being the faint pulse that Landon was checking every minute or so – though, it pained him to admit, it seemed to be growing even fainter with each time he checked it.

He had tried so hard to hold on. He had gathered every vestige of hope within himself, convinced himself that somehow they would find a solution. But now that the hour was upon them, and only darkness awaited at the end of the tunnel, all his hope had been lost. He wasn't like Sam, wise and thoughtful Sam, who had accepted his own impending fate. And this wasn't like the time his parents died, and he'd had his brothers to take care of. There was no one else who cared about Sam like he did, no one to console, or help overcome their grief, and without that, Landon knew he would certainly fall apart.

"I sure hope you're not as salty as your brother is."

And there it was. The one sound that filtered through the background noise, like a glorious melody rising out from a sea of pointless monotone. He tore his eyes away from Sam, however hard he tried to force himself not to, and his gaze landed on Hayley Rose, the White Sapphire witch who had appeared out of nowhere and ruined his life. How he wanted to hate her, the very idea of her, for threatening to discredit what he and Sam had. But he knew he couldn't, because it wasn't her fault.

Landon had figured that since he couldn't hate her, he would simply ignore her. But that had been easier to decide when the room was full of other people. Cameron and Melissa had gone off to fight Serena, who had now taken her aunt, Vera. They had agreed that Anson should stay behind and focus on saving Sam, as the Demetrio-Blake power couple would be more than enough to take on one dark witch.

Landon looked over to the kitchen, where Diane stood in the corner with a mildly disturbed expression. The poor girl had just found about magic, again, and this time they couldn't risk wiping her memory. Melissa had asked them to let her stay here until everything was over, so that they could properly talk about everything that she needed to know.

A few feet away from her was Anson, who wielded a vial of bone-colored liquid in one hand and a sprig of green leaves in the other, trying to work on a cure. On the bar counter before him were both the Blake and the Demetrio Grimoires, propped open next to an assortment of items from his stock in his potions room in the basement, like plants and oils and pipettes and a mortar-and-pestle.

Hopping daintily around Anson was Madeline, bringing him whatever he asked for, which was her way of helping. It was also her way of keeping him focused, as she'd realized that her presence was somewhat distracting for him – he'd dropped a vial trying to steal a glance at her. Landon couldn't feel this enchanting lure that his brothers did when the siren looked at them; all he saw was a little girl with lovely red hair. Apparently, swinging for the other team had its supernatural perks. Unless, of course, you were bound to two witches.