Arianna Rose: The Gathering (Part 3) by Jennifer Martucci, Christopher Martucci

Now the notion made her cringe.  How cliché would that have been, a witch who dressed from head to toe in black, wore black lipstick and black makeup?  Beth might as well have worn a pointed hat and towed a broomstick behind her.  All of it would have been too absurd to be possible. Arianna had felt the slightest tingling whisper through her when they’d first met and thought it would be worth a try getting to know her.  But not now, not after Beth’s continued accusation that Arianna was interested in more than just friendship.  She would not keep making an ass of herself with Beth.  She’d been drawn to Hallowed Hills; that much she knew.  Why or to whom she’d been drawn remained a mystery.  One thing she was certain of: she would not be wasting any more time or energy on Beth.
    Chapter 8
     
    Arianna’s features flashed in Desmond’s mind repeatedly.  Her large brown eyes, the curtains of dark hair that fell in straight panels around her face to her shoulders, her perfect lips, each of her exquisite attributes, drifted hazily in his mind’s eye like a lagoon mirage would to a man wandering the desert.  His vision of her kept his freezing legs moving, kept him from turning back and fleeing the harsh land he walked upon.  Fierce winds lashed against his body as he trekked along an ice-crusted path toward Ellsworth Land on the Antarctic Peninsula.  Despite the fact that it was spring there and boasted light-filled days, the temperature hovered around negative twelve degrees Fahrenheit and was getting colder the further south he traveled.  Desmond had used his powers to create a protective field around himself, to guard his mortal body against the elements. 
    While his powers warmed his body, love and faith warmed his insides.  His love for Arianna, his belief in her goodness, pushed him onward. But love and faith were not the only motivating forces heating him.  Anger and betrayal had ignited a considerable fire as well. 
    His father had written a chapter in the Tome of Ares, and had withheld that fact from him his entire life.  Desmond needed to know why.  Why had his father betrayed him?  Why had his father written such lies about the Sola, about Arianna? 
    Thoughts of his father’s misguided chapter riled him and sent a bolt of rage surging through his veins.  The flare of energy was so potent, the section of air before him that quivered and shimmered like heat radiating off pavement, his field of warmth, faltered briefly.  Allowing his emotions to rise erratically as they had could get him killed.  He needed to control them until he reached his father’s compound. 
    The Antarctic Peninsula was d otted with numerous research stations.  All squat buildings that housed scientists from around the world, the terrain on which they sat maintained multiple claims of sovereignty.  Of course, none of those countries that sought to claim sovereignty knew that the land also housed the most powerful living warlock whose abilities would only be eclipsed by that of the Sola.
    Desmond’s father, Agnon, lived beyond the acreage that accommodated global scientists.  He lived deep in the hostile heart of Ellsworth Land in a building that rose like an ashen fortress from the colorless landscape.  Protected by an invisible barrier that guarded against sifting, Agnon’s stronghold was impervious to any supernatural being capable of teleportation, including Desmond.
    He had been able to teleport from Herald Falls, New York in the United States to Ushuaia at the southernmost point of Argentina in South America.  He rested there then teleported to the Peninsula.  But the closer he drew to his father’s compound, the more he felt his sifting abilities wane.  The continual flow inside of him that raced like electricity along with his lifeblood came to an abrupt stop.  The effect was dizzying and disorienting.  He felt as though the most vital part of his being had been stripped from him.  He knew the