WILLOW
I made my way into the library, knocking on the secret door softly. Hoping no one in the main library rooms heard me as I waited
impatiently to be let in.
Iban finally pushed open the door, hurrying to drag me inside before I could be spotted. The small space was far too crowded, with a representative from each legacy house huddled inside. But it was the blade in the center of the table that stole the breath from my lungs.
I’d come here knowing what I planned to do, but that didn’t make seeing it any easier.
I strode into the room, never taking my eyes off the weapon. Sound filtered out, my head filling with static. I felt as if I’d plunged underwater, as if the only way to survive this was to go entirely numb. I was drowning, suffocating beneath the surface.
Standing at the head of the table beside Iban, I plastered the mask on my face. Nova caught my expression, her lips moving with sounds I couldn’t hear. I shook my head, trying to shake off the feeling of being unable to breathe. It was worse than when Gray had choked me the night before.
The numbness was always worse than the fear.
The figure of a man appeared against the back wall, his form hazy as he cast a leisurely glance up and down my body. He studied me, assessed me, and found me severely lacking if the way he chuckled and turned his back to me was any indication. The faint shadow of white wings hid his eyes. Still, I found myself straining toward him regardless.
Iban touched my arm, jolting me out of the trance that had consumed me. Breath returned to my lungs, forcing me to slap a palm down on the table to catch myself as I sucked back greedy gulps of air.
“Are you okay?” Nova asked, stepping around the group of people who had gathered to watch me crumble.
I nodded my head, clearing my throat that felt hoarse. “I’m fine. Just a vision,” I said, shaking it off as if it was inconsequential.
“Loralai used to have them too,” an older witch said, her blue eyes shining as she studied me. I turned to stare at her, finding comfort in the fact that my aunt had been unable to hide the more mysterious side of the Hecate powers. Everyone assumed that we merely raised the dead, or brought back zombies without the memory of who they had once been.
Few knew the truth. We had to commune with the dead and know we were unable to give them the one thing that they wanted more than anything.
Life.
Loralai had often spoken about guiding those with unfinished business on their journey to peace. According to my father, she’d considered that her true calling and the real magic she had to offer.
“I’m glad to know I’m not alone,” I said simply, trying to push aside my embarrassment at having been witnessed in the throes of a vision. Mainly since I knew that vision had been prompted by my agony over what I was about to do. “Iban told you all why you’re here?”
Iban cleared his throat, nodding as he reached out to wrap his palm around the bone handle of the blade. I swallowed, hating the sight of him being the one to hold it. It felt like another layer to my betrayal, like working with Iban somehow made Gray’s murder worse.
“Do you really think you can do this?” one of the men at the table asked. I didn’t know him, but he was dressed in yellow, the color accentuating his warm brown skin.
“You’ve made yourself vulnerable by sleeping with that monster. What makes you think he doesn’t know exactly what you have planned?” the woman at his side asked. She wore the white of the crystal witches, her silver hair hanging loose over her dress. Her eyes were purple too, darker than most of the Hecate line.
“Is there a time a man is more vulnerable than when his dick is out?” I asked, watching the way the older woman reeled back from my vulgarity. I
wouldn’t beat around the bush, and I certainly wouldn’t tolerate the insinuation that I was the only one who was put at risk by our relationship.
I’d come here to find his weakness and exploit it. I just hadn’t known it would be me all along.
“I suppose not,” the witch said, shaking her head as she laid out the crystals on the table. She made a circle around the center, placing a single stone at each point of the pentagram. Iban returned the blade to the center as everyone’s eyes returned to me.
A spell like this required three things. Stone.
Blood.
Bone.
I waved my hand at the bones circling my hip, watching them move as I commanded. I hadn’t understood at first, thinking Gray was the only one capable of determining where the bones rested against me.
At that moment, I understood.
They were a part of me; all I needed to do was acknowledge that, and they were mine to control. Loralai’s resurrection and death had shown me the truth, enabling me to accept the darkest parts of my reality.
The bones swept out from my hip, moving in an arc to scatter around the table. They surrounded the center of the pentagram, spilling haphazardly wherever they landed. I alone reached into the center pentagram, bending over the table to hold out my hand.
Dragging the blade over my palm, I winced at the drops of blood that dripped onto the surface. It felt like a waste to let something that could bring so much life be used to bring death instead.
“Sanguis terrae et os,” I said, watching as the bones rattled on the table in recognition of my offering. The pentagram formed by the crystals lined itself with the vines that burst free from the wood, drawing the symbol on top of the table.
I handed the knife to Nova next, ignoring the pointed way she stared at me. She followed suit, leaning forward and cutting her hand. She didn’t hesitate to offer her blood to the spell even though such magic had been forbidden under the last Covenant’s reign. I had no doubt they’d have tried to kill him before, but they hadn’t had the necromancy magic of the blacks to aid them.
A breeze blew through the room as it filled with her air, washing over my skin and chilling me to the bone. She handed the knife to Della at her side, the faint sprinkle of rain falling in the room to leave tiny droplets within our spell circle.
The Yellow witch cut herself, the vines that had grown on the table filling with flames. They acted as a boundary, containing the fire that would hurt when I needed to place the blade back in the middle. The blood there burned, becoming one with the flames as the acrid scent filled the room.
The red witch at her side turned to drag the knife across his hand, a wash of need spreading through us. Iban tensed at my side, but I forced myself to ignore him when he stepped closer. The magic of Reds was potent, but it could not create what was not already there.
And it wasn’t him my body sang for.
The white witch added her blood, the hum of the crystals drowning out all sound beyond our circle. The purple witch finished the circle as Iban stepped out of the way, cast out because of his lack of magic. His displeasure at being excluded from the very plan he’d set in motion was palpable, but I hated the way he lingered at my back.
He’d need to be dealt with as soon as Gray was gone, the boundaries set very clearly. There was no future for him and I, even without Gray in the picture.
Stars shimmered on the ceiling, falling to the circle and spreading amongst us as I stared in awe. The purple witch handed me the blade, allowing me to take the final step in imbuing all our magic within the dagger.
I swallowed as I took it from her, staring at the burning pentagon. I pushed myself to move, guiding my hand to those flames. The fire licked at my skin, burning and leaving charred, black cracks behind as I placed the knife upon the table. The pain was agony, searing down the bone as I gritted my teeth through it.
To bear the power, I would need to give more of myself.
I withdrew, watching as my skin healed anew as I pulled my arm back toward me. Fresh pink skin replaced the charred black.
The blade rested in the flames, until slowly they faded. The dagger pulsed with golden light, absorbing that fire and the blood that burned with it. My vines retreated as I swept my hand over the table, summoning my
bones back to me. They circled my waist all over again, returning home as the white witch gathered her crystals in the same manner.
I reached into the circle, wrapping my fingers around the hilt of the blade. The fresh heat of power scalded me, drawing a gasp from my lungs as I accepted the mantle. I felt it deep within me, the rumble of ancient power trapped in that blade.
I gripped it tightly, raising my eyes to stare at those who waited around the table. The red witch leveled Iban with a stare, nodding as he turned for the door. “I hope we did not make a mistake in trusting you, Covenant,” he said to me finally, his red eyes narrowed as he left the room.
“Let’s hope it works,” I said as the others slowly filtered out. I took my seat at the table, waiting and rejecting all conversations from Della, Nova, and Iban. Eventually, they left me, too.
Until there was only me.
