“I had to. I couldn’t let her harness the Power of Three. I had to stop her, so I sent a vampire to take Katie. I sent Drake to take her—”
The familiar name jolted Yvette. Drake? Was she talking about the shrink several of her colleagues were seeing?
“Doctor Drake?” Gabriel asked, his voice tight.
“He wasn’t a doctor back then. He took Katie, because I told him he had to. I told him about the prophecy, that he had to protect the balance of power. So he did. And he protected me from the temptation at the same time. With Katie gone, I was able to resist. I hadn’t even thought of it for years. I thought I’d conquered it. But now …” She trailed off, her gaze moving back to the three siblings. “I need the power. I’ve denied it for too long. Don’t you see that I can’t do anything about it?”
Then her eyes shot back to Gabriel, angry and accusing. “You should have never involved me in this. You should have never asked me for help. It’s your own fault. You should have never trusted me.”
Then Francine lifted the dagger from the altar and began her chant.
Thirty-Five
Haven exchanged a look with Wesley, silently reminding him of their plan. Nothing had really changed: a witch was still performing the ritual, only now it was Francine, not their original captor. It made no difference to him. He’d never suspected her, never thought she’d turn against them, but the moment Bess had burst into flames and died, he’d seen the glint in Francine’s eyes that could only mean one thing: a lust for power.
Now that the vamps had lost their ally and could only fight with mortal weapons rather than witchcraft to combat witchcraft, Haven steeled himself for what he had to do. He cast one look into Yvette’s direction, watching her struggle, trying to fight the invisible shield Francine had put around them to prevent the vampires from approaching.
Haven knew with absolute certainty that he loved Yvette, and he wanted to cause her no pain, but there was no time to communicate to her what he’d planned. He hoped she would understand when the time came.
As the chanting reached a crescendo, Francine rounded the altar and approached them. She reached for Kimberly’s hand, opening up her palm. Then she took the dagger and sliced through the middle of it, leaving a trail of blood. Kimberly cried out in pain. The sound cut through Haven’s heart, but he didn’t move to help her.
Instead he concentrated on his mother’s last words, “Remember to love.” Haven understood it now. She’d given him the key with her dying words. Only with love, he would be able to draw on his original powers and collect enough strength to execute his plan.
When Francine moved on to Wesley, his brother dutifully stretched out his palm to let himself be cut. As the blood spread on his open hand, Wesley winced, but just like they’d discussed it beforehand, he didn’t fight her and only widened his stance to get ready for his part.
Francine took a step toward Haven, her hand holding the dagger which was covered with the blood of his two siblings. She would only need his now. As she reached for his hand and turned it palm up, Haven closed his eyes for one moment, allowing the love to flow through him: love for his brother and sister, and more importantly the love for Yvette. As it surged higher, he felt a charge travel from the soles of his feet upwards through him as if a foreign, alien force took hold of his body.
His first instinct was to fight it, but he suppressed the urge, and instead let his love for Yvette guide him and welcome the invasion. As the sensation spread in him, he opened his eyes, suddenly seeing everything with more clarity. He knew that his original power was back. It was weak, but it would be sufficient enough to perform one action with cunning speed and stealth.
As Francine set the dagger against his palm, he grabbed it from her unsuspecting hand. At the same time, Wesley kicked out his leg, his foot connecting with the back of Francine’s knees, making her topple. She let out a startled scream as she fell to the ground, but already, she tried to get up.
It was all the time Haven needed. He held the dagger in both hands and gritted his teeth. Taking all his courage and drawing on the love that was now firmly lodged in his heart, he drove the blade into his stomach, jerking it in as far as it would go. White-hot fire exploded from ruptured guts, wrenching an agonized scream from his throat. Warm liquid dripped over his hands still holding the dagger’s handle. He looked down and watched the blood seep from his body as the reality of what he’d done settled in.
“NOOOOOO!”
Who screamed, he couldn’t tell. He only felt strong arms around him as he tumbled to the ground. Wesley’s body cushioned his fall. Cold blasted through him. The damp of the night spread. His vision blurred, and his ears felt as if stuffed with cotton wool.