4
Orla swayed and tried to hang on to her consciousness. She should have known. What had she expected, coming back to the land of black magic, to the place where she’d grown up, where she had been trained and where she owed a debt?
She hadn’t been practicing for years. Her knees buckled. She heard Maeve calling out for her and felt her hands on her shoulders. Her best friend could help. Aunt Siobhan was a white witch, and Maeve practised white magic. She wasn’t part of the clan, and she was Orla’s only hope. They had been communicating in their psychic minds for years, and she was sure her trip to the Daimon Gate wouldn’t have broken their psychic communication channel.
“Help me!” Orla managed. She couldn’t get many words past her lips, but she remembered mind reading was one of Maeve r
