Table of Contents

Dedication

Map

Global Pronunciation Guide

Spotify Links

Trigger Warning

Author Suggestion

Prologue - Éiren

Chapter One - Bea

Chapter Two - Lysette

Chapter Three - Bea

Chapter Four - Lysette

Chapter Five - Bea

Chapter Six - Lysette

Chapter Seven - Éiren

Chapter Eight - Bea

Chapter Nine - Lysette

Chapter Ten - Bea

Chapter Eleven - Lysette

Chapter Twelve - Éiren

Chapter Thirteen - Bea

Chapter Fourteen - Lysette

Chapter Fifteen - Éiren

Chapter Sixteen - Bea

Chapter Seventeen - Lysette

Chapter Eighteen - Bea

Chapter Nineteen - Éiren

Chapter Twenty - Bea

Chapter Twenty One - Lysette

Chapter Twenty Two - Bea

Chapter Twenty Three - Lysette

Chapter Twenty Four - Éiren

Chapter Twenty Five - Lysette

Chapter Twenty Six - Bea

Chapter Twenty Seven - Éiren

Chapter Twenty Eight - Lysette

Chapter Twenty Nine - Éiren

Chapter Thirty - Bea

Chapter Thirty One - Éiren

Chapter Thirty Two - Bea

Chapter Thirty Three - Lysette

Chapter Thirty Four - Éiren

Chapter Thirty Five - Bea

Chapter Thirty Six - Éiren

Chapter Thirty Seven - Lysette

Chapter Thirty Eight - Éiren

Chapter Thirty Nine - Bea

Chapter Forty - Éiren

About the Authors

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Copyright © 2025 by Chase St. Clare, August Oliver, and Eleanor Rose

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Chase St. Clare

Publisher: Finch Benson

Printed in the United States of America

For those who discovered sisterhood when they least expected it, who found love nestled in friendships, and soulmates in places they never imagined possible.

To our own little coven, lovingly formed within our Finchy family: Carly, Erin, Alex, Ash, Carina (et al.), Margaret, and Sherilyn.

But most of all, this is for each other, as every story is.

Never in my life had I felt weak until I knew true power.

And I never felt weaker than when that power waned each new moon.

Hecate’s magic ebbed once more as I clutched the labyrinthine ring so tightly it might turn into a diamond. After all the planning and sacrifices, after six months of hunting down every living relative I had on the east coast, I had yet to unlock the fullest potential of Hecate’s ring.

I knew by now it was futile, that there was something I was missing. But I couldn’t stop my obsession.

I was lucky the modern age lent itself to people compulsively documenting their DNA—like anyone gave a shit about their useless biological data. But the new craze of finding lost relatives couldn’t have made it easier to access each genetics database and find my next sacrifice.

It was baffling how many people wanted to meet a fourth cousin, twice removed.

Five months of experimentation led to twelve sacrifices that failed, three that only gave me heightened power for a day, and now four that actually worked.

I lifted my booted foot from the sludge, traipsing through the blood and gore encasing every inch of the crypt. The rotting smell permeated every surface and was in danger of escaping the crypt which—out of necessity—doubled as a place to perform the rituals of binding. One sacrifice a cycle amplified my powers through the new moon, but it still wasn’t enough.

Hecate, herself, eluded my control. Claiming her power, which was what the ring promised the bearer, didn’t work when I tried with Beatrice. That failing is what led me to traverse this literal hellhole of human slurry every month. After I emerged the first two times, vomiting and trying to scratch my skin off, Siobhan had coerced me into seeing a doctor to try to manage the lingering paralyzation and anxiety I experienced.

Obsessive. That was the label. Compulsions that were obsessive. But the pills only did so much, and each new sacrifice forced me to test the very limits of said medicine.

The panic attacks remained—the power did not.

It was exactly this that made me so desperate to find a better solution. A more permanent one.

A groan came from behind me, and I turned to find today’s sacrifice moving, coughing, and clutching his stomach. The drugs I slipped in his drink must not have rendered him unconscious like I thought.

“My deepest apologies,” I said, pivoting and tugging my shirt off over my head. “I must have been careless.”

I folded the white button down and put it high atop a cabinet. I didn’t want to have to iron a second today. Then, I grabbed my black leather gloves and slid them on, pulling them tight against my knuckles, an admittedly futile attempt at staying my symptoms. The young man backed away from me on his hands, but he knew as well as I did…

It was already too late.

I moved to where he cowered and grabbed him by the throat, the leather creaking against my grip. His muscles tensed against my fingers, and a shudder trickled down my spine as I watched acceptance cross his face for a moment before dropping him to the floor, unconscious once again.

The sacrifice didn’t work if they were already dead.

I reached out and firmly grasped his hands, pulling his body from the corner and across the pool of fluids left by his predecessors. My mind wandered to the implications of where the finer particles of this ooze could or would end up, and I retched, wishing I could call for Siobhan right then and there. But if I left now, I would have to find someone else. I’d certainly be forced to either kill this man, which had to happen either way, or leave him to die of starvation, which would just be cruel. It wasn’t his fault our blood was the same.

I dragged him to the altar, only picking him up when I finally reached it, and flung his heavy, limp body over the stone table etched in runes. I scowled in irritation as the mess I pulled him through splashed lightly onto my slacks. The wet sensation through the fabric made my skin crawl, despite the highest dose of medication they could offer me. I shuddered, ready to run, to scream for Siobhan to get me out of here, even though I knew she couldn’t hear me.

Besides, I had a job to do.

From my belt, I tugged loose a machete, something to relieve this sacrificial lamb of his blood. Blood that would reignite the fire within me, which was growing dimmer by the minute. Pulling it from my pocket, I untied the leather strings of a tiny pouch, dumping its contents—one emerald and diamond engagement ring and a large art déco flower-shaped one with a massive center emerald and black diamond leaves all around it—into the font where this man’s blood would soon be deposited. Last, I dropped in the Ring of Hecate, and it fell between the two others.

A vein in my neck twitched at seeing Lysette’s two rings there, once again readied to be part of this bloody ritual. Symbols of my love, mixed with life source and an offering of magic—both of which would be fulfilled by this man—to revive Hecate to my service once again.

At least until this time again next month.

I spun the machete once and drove it into the man’s neck, causing a warm, sanguine spray to cascade across my face and into my hair. I would be lying if I said the visceral carnality didn’t make my pulse race with something like arousal, and I ran my hand over my head, slicking the hairs back with no regard for the crimson liquid which coated it.

Piss, shit, dirt, vomit, even spilled food could make me want to tear my own stomach from my body. But blood… There was nothing more pure and powerful than the very thing that drew the line between life and death. I never once minded blood. It was only when it began to rot, like everything surrounding me down here, that it became an issue.

I grabbed for the ornate bowl and drowned all three rings in the sanguine waves that gushed from his neck. Quietly, I whispered the incantation that had become as familiar to me as my own name, and I felt my power imbued with the strength only the might of a god could give. Like a thousand steel doors slamming shut between my magic and the rest of the world before a thousand jolts of electricity raced through my veins.

An explosion from deep within me burst forth, escaping my soul through my mouth, like the very essence of me had emerged in a shining obsidian plasma. But as soon as it appeared, it re-submerged inside of me, the echoes of my uncontrolled scream rebounding off the steel beams which remained exposed from when this place was built. I was left panting and covered in gore, aroused and imbued.

“Plucked another flower from the vine, mon cher?”

Unlike the facade of the wizened psychic from the Circle of the White Orchid I’d known for centuries, or the old crone who’d given me my magic the day I should have become king, she had shed her ancient and withered visage for one that was elegant and youthful, nearly as tall as I. Her skin was the color of deep umber, and she wore a golden, shimmering, floor-length chiton. Her hair was cropped short against her head beneath a crown of black crystals displaying the moon phases. And even though she was wreathed in darkness, she almost seemed to glow.

Light… and dark.

Life and death.

Chaos.

Hecate.

She held out a hand, beckoning me closer. Even from here, her power radiated within and through me, making my mouth water with the anticipation of having just a taste of it once more.

“Come, agape mou,” she said, her voice light as a feather and as deep as the sea all at once.

I sighed and obliged, knowing that what came next would severely derail my plans to go on a run after this, but also knowing that, without it, I would be left feeling empty. I needed her, which meant giving her what she asked.

Anything she asked.

From the moment our fingers touched, I was no longer standing in the murky, death-filled, cement crypt, but rather in the fresh night air of some far off place, in some long ago time. The olive tree hanging over our heads was now familiar to me, as was the pavilion before me.

“Always the same place,” I noted, more to myself than the Goddess.

“Even back then,” she said, running her slender fingers down my cheek and stepping closer. “This was where we would meet… until the war between Orthrys and Olympus forced us into hiding… then into war with each other.”

I grabbed her wrist gently, with all the deference due of a goddess. “I am not him, Hecate.”

She merely smiled softly and turned her back to me, looking out over the land before us, the moon glinting off some rippling body of water. “No. But also yes. I once told you destiny had marked you. I knew it from the moment I saw you, felt you. I’ve met dozens of Clytius’s descendants over the centuries, but you… you were more than that. You don’t simply share his lineage—his soul resides in you.”

We’d had this conversation once a month since the first time I activated the ring, and yet, she still wouldn’t see sense. I was born without magic. It was her, under the guise of the witch Morrigan, who imbued me with the dark power that would sustain and vex me for centuries. I guessed as much, but she, herself, confirmed it to me when she first revealed herself and my previous encounters with some of her reincarnations. How could I, a mortal, peasant-born bastard, have possibly been important enough to be the reincarnation of her lover?

But as long as she continued to provide, I would continue to indulge her delusion.

I allowed her to lead me to the pavilion, her hand in mine, the skin soft and warm—just like Lysette’s.

My Rosie.

She would see reason soon enough. She would understand that this, all of this, was for her. For a world that refused to see shades of gray, refused to embrace the darkness which resides in each of us. And while I could have—and often had, lately—spent hours upon hours simply imagining our reunion, I needed to appease the Goddess so I could do what I’d sacrificed everything to do.

Save the world from people who couldn’t see it properly. Who couldn't see the responsibility we, as magic bearers, had to protect and guide the mortals, even if the cost was high for them. That was what Lysette never understood. It wasn’t about power for the sake of power. It was my responsibility. Our responsibility.

Hecate led me through sheer curtains to a bed I’d slept in several times, the open ceiling of the pavilion offering not cover, but a panoramic view of the stars. Two fountains of cool, glittering water framed the all-white bed, which was stacked high with plush pillows and luxuriously soft blankets.

“My Goddess…” I breathed as her hands went to my chest. “What would you ask of me?”

Her face moved closer until I could feel her breath on my lips. “Take what has always been yours, and you shall once more have the power you seek.”

I knew the command well by now, and I supposed I’d done far more depraved things to achieve my ends than make love to a god. The very feeling of her skin on mine, of our union, was a power in its own right. One that almost made me believe I was her lover once, now, and always would be.

At least until I had what I needed.

It felt like days later when I suddenly found myself back in the crypt, the feeling of her lips still upon me and her power once more coursing through my veins like a drug of the highest potency. It took me a moment to adjust from the ethereal vibrancy of Hecate’s daydream to this shit hole once more, to the feeling of blood coating my skin and hair rather than the hands of a goddess. But I had things to do, and they couldn’t wait. Not if I wanted to escape this cycle of submission and claim my authority for good.

She spoke to me again, her voice now only in my head, as I had come to expect along with her power.

My magic will always be yours, if only you ask, my love…

If only it were that easy.

A ripple of goosebumps cascaded my spine, and I stretched my back and arms to adjust to the new feeling of lingering deification.

“You’re a feckin’ mess,” a voice that wasn’t Hecate’s said from my left, and I turned to find Siobhan holding my shirt. It must have been time for her to fetch me, every minute after the sacrifice having been occupied by my dalliance with the Goddess. Siobhan was my only way out of this place, which had no windows or doors and sat well below ground level, ensuring no one but us would ever find it.

Siobhan was no Lysette. In fact, she was disposable next to my Rosie, but when it came to loyalty, Lysette couldn’t begin to touch her. Siobhan was every mortal man’s fantasy with long, platinum hair, legs for miles, and a body that may as well have belonged to Aphrodite, herself. But the thing that made her so valuable was her desperation. She was begging for attention, to be loved, to be valued. From the moment I met her, she was ready to do anything for my approval, which was precisely why I knew I’d never have to question her devotion. I gave her just enough of each to keep her hopeful while making no real promises or commitments.

“I thought you liked me like this,” I growled into her ear as I pulled her against me, ready for her to provide her services.

She gave a breathless gasp, then jumped us to my master bathroom, where I had a spa shower, large tub, and heated towel rack. I laughed, falling against her as I stabilized less than gracefully. This was always where she wanted to be. I suspected it had something to do with the fact that this was the one place Lysette had never been. Even my room, which was once Siobhan’s favorite, since she was the first to share that bed with me, no longer seemed to thrill her as it once did. Likely because Lysette had finally been in that room, with me, not that long ago.

“So, what are your services going to cost me this time, Mo nathair?”

She attempted to trail her hands down my chest and beneath the front of my filthy trousers, but I caught her wrist and stopped her.

“Not now,” I said with a little more vitriol than intended. I was exhausted from pleasing the Goddess, and I wasn’t stupid enough to think I’d enjoy having Siobhan immediately in her wake. She was a sufficient source of relief when needed, but never more than that.

Siobhan got a pouty look on her face, as though I hadn’t fucked her silly two hours earlier, and pulled away from me.

“Angel…” I cooed. “Mo Nathair…”

She spun on the spot and put out her palm, once again making me chuckle. I reached behind me into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, extracting my Black Card and placing it playfully in between two of her fingers.

“I’m going to be buying diamonds,” she said irritably. “Something in the fifty thousand dollar range.”

I laughed again at the spoiled, bratty witch who would have given all the possessions in the world to have my love, instead.

“Unless,” she said slyly, “you want to buy a diamond for me…”

The implication hung in the air, and I took a deep breath before turning away and going to the sink.

It would never happen. Not even if my life depended on it. I knew it, and she knew it. There was only one witch—one woman—who would ever have my heart until the end of my days, even if she wasn’t speaking to me. Even if I never saw her again.

Lysette owned me, mind, body, and soul.

I heard Siobhan turn on the bathtub and begin to complain about it being too hot, when a knock came on the door.

“It’s me,” the gruff voice said, sounding as though he would rather come back later but couldn't.

“Come in.”

Julien slunk in, hands in his pockets, looking nervous and rigid, his eyes darting to Siobhan, who’d already disrobed and was watching us both with an expression I’m sure she intended to be seductive.

“I have news,” he said. “Your plans were—well, I have it on good authority from an ally in Louisiana that your plans were… successful. The source reported seeing a pregnant, dark-haired witch leaving a cafe with someone who matches B—um, the other one’s description.”

From behind me came an irritated noise from Siobhan, and she tugged on my arm, feeling how fast she lost my interest. But I ignored her as I rinsed my face, neck, chest, and hair. A full wash would have to come later.

“Why don’t you enjoy this bath, brother?” I said with a nonchalant tone. “I need to do some research. I can’t let the mother of my child wander too far out of my reach, now can I?”

Julien didn’t move. I knew how hard he was still taking the rejection of his former lover, my biological daughter, Beatrice, even though it was entirely his choice to forsake their bond for ours. To this day, I still caught him staring out windows wistfully on occasion. Usually, that’s when I sent Siobhan his way. It wouldn’t do to have him linger in regret and make a stupid choice. His skills and loyalty were just as valuable as Siobhan’s—and just as easily won.

“Go on,” I urged, nudging my shoulder into his as I walked past. “I’m sure she’ll let you call her any name you like…”

Julien visibly shuddered at the implication, then looked up at Siobhan with a sigh and approached her, tugging his shirt off and tossing it across the floor.

“You kids have fun,” I said, closing the double wooden doors to the bathroom behind me and crossing the room to my desk, where hundreds of photos of my wife lay scattered. I lifted one, a picture I took of her sleeping in Japan after one of our lovemaking sessions, and pressed it to my lips. I could almost smell the sweet scent that naturally radiated from her. The thought of her carrying my child…

Yes… Our child, the Goddess’s voice echoed in my mind.

No, I said more to myself than her. Rosie’s child. My child with Lysette. My soulmate.

You would forget the man you once pledged that title to so easily? The one who died for you? Poor Dáire, who yet waits for his one true love…

I dared not breathe, let alone even think the visceral reaction the statement had given me. Dáire was the love of my life and always would be. But that life ended centuries ago. My soul, however… that belonged to her.

Lysette. My rose.

“Things change…” My voice was cold, but it was all an attempt to disallow her the power to control me.

Indeed, they do, she taunted. But not everything. Some things last forever. You cannot lie to me, my love. I see all… Remember?

“Not long, Rosie,” I said out loud, pretending I could no longer hear her as the sounds of Julien and Siobhan’s activities filled the otherwise quiet room. “Soon, we'll be together again, and no one will get in the way of our kingdom.”

Nine Years Later

The mid-fall breeze sweeping through the field had just begun to shift from cool to bitter, something I thought was bad enough back in the damp climate of coastal North Carolina. Not this. This was the kind of cold that invoked the notion of old gods ushering in scarcity and darkness. Nine years out here in the northern Midwest, and I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

To be fair, before this, my fire and ice made it impossible for me to ever be too hot or too cold. Now, I couldn’t use them. Not without… consequences.

I pulled some rogue strands of hair from my mouth as the chill winds blew them into my face before giving up, then dropped my rake to the ground so I could tie my hair into a new ponytail for the third time in an hour.

“Shit,” I mumbled as it continued to fly free, obscuring my vision.

“What’s shit?” a tiny voice asked from behind me.

Double shit.

I spun and looked at the little girl with hair the color of dark rust, who was looking back at me with mischief in her eyes. Aster long ago learned not to repeat my swear words, but she learned just as quickly that I would always catch the blame when she did. It had become a game, seeing if she could get away with it and enjoying watching Lysette scold me if she was heard.

Once I was certain Aster’s mother was nowhere to be seen, I smirked and pulled the hair tie from my wrist to shoot it at her. She squealed and ducked behind a trellis of beans, laughing in a voice so musical it would stop people in their tracks.

Not that she’d ever seen people besides us.

“Oh, it’s on,” I taunted.

Aster let out a mix between a scream and a giggle and dove behind the trellis as I wrapped the hair tie around my hand and let it fly. She screeched with delight, and the projectile froze in midair before rocketing back toward me.

“Magic’s against the rules, Peachy!” I laughed, using the nickname I’d called her since she was a baby.

“I didn’t mean to!” she shot back with a wild grin.

I believed her completely. At her age, displaying magic at all was unheard of. Most witches didn’t have any measure of control over their powers until a few years after puberty. Hell, my own magic barely manifested until I was nearly a century old, though that’s not all that common. But considering she was the product of two of the most powerful witches I’d ever known—even if it killed me to admit it about one of those parents—it made sense.

Almost as if she’d been summoned by my thoughts, Lysette came up behind me silently, her voice in my ear.

“Kids,” she chided, the smile sounding in her voice, even if I couldn’t see it, and I turned to find I was right. “I’m not harvesting alone.” Despite the easy expression on her face, she was obviously serious. She stepped between us and thrust a heavy basket already filled with vegetables into my arms, then rushed to gleefully lift the little girl whose face so matched her own.

Except for the eyes. Aster’s eyes, a silvery gray rather than olive green like her mother’s, matched mine.

Matched our father’s.

“How come Aster gets a pass?” I called to Lysette, even as I knelt beside the trellis and started to strip the vine of its beans.

She spun her daughter around once and plopped her back onto the ground, then crossed her arms, dirt-encrusted fingers resting on her fleece sleeves.

“She’s eight, but she doesn’t,” she said in a softly scolding tone, turning to Aster. “You were supposed to be in the orchard, collecting the apples before moving to the vineyard.”

“Orchard” and “vineyard” were generous terms for the three apple trees and hundred square feet of grapevines we possessed, but we spent the last nine years working with what we had. We needed to keep our footprint small. Nonexistent would have been better than small, but being off the grid meant we had to provide for ourselves and live off the land, so concessions had to be made.

Thank fuck, Lysette grew up on a vineyard and knew how to do things like this, because I’d have starved.

Aster mirrored Lysette’s posture, her naturally tan skin and freckles gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

“I finished the apples,” she said with an attitude she had clearly picked up from me. I ducked behind the beans so Lysette wouldn't see me grinning. “I was taking a break before I started the grapes. Besides, Bea was taking a break, too.”

I came out from my hiding place and scoffed. “Excuse me, you little snitch! I was doing no such thing.”

“Enough,” Lysette said gently before giving Aster a swift swat on the backside, and her tiny doppelgänger ran off to address the unharvested grapes.

Most days weren’t quite so full of hard, unrelenting work like this, but as the wind kept reminding us, winter was coming fast, and our window to harvest before our crops would be ruined was closing. Once the sun set and our light ran out, we retreated to the little cottage just beyond the treeline, hidden from view if anyone even managed to find our little homestead, deep in the Nebraskan woods.

Once inside, I immediately threw a few logs into the fireplace, hoping to coax some warmth into these four walls, even smaller than the home I once shared with my mother in Salem over three hundred years ago.

“Oh, thank you, Bea,” Lysette said, the master of our tiny coven. “Pretty sure my bones are frozen.”

“Mine, too,” Aster said, her lips faintly purple as she shivered.

“Don’t worry, Peachy,” I assured her. “You’ll be warm enough in no time.”

“While you do that,” Lysette said, carrying our baskets to the sink to wash, “Aster and I will get to work on canning what we can tonight.”

I turned back to my task and sighed, wishing for my magic. It never failed to frustrate me, building a fire this way. You’d think nearly a decade of having to do it by hand would have gotten me used to it, but after three hundred years of being able to think a roaring fire into existence, I knew it would take me a long time to get over.

Once the flames were crackling away, I turned to watch my sister by choice and my sister by genetics start to peel off their outer clothes, the fire warming up the tiny space quickly. The entire cabin was a single room, with an outhouse attached to the back.

As I stoked the fire, Lysette and Aster remained in the kitchen, sorting and cleaning the harvest. While they worked, I found myself losing touch with reality a bit, receding into the nothingness I kept in my mind for moments when my thoughts threatened to veer into topics I couldn’t bear, like the reason we had to hide out here. With the poker in my right hand, I used my left thumb to rub the ring that sat on my left hand since Julien faked his own death. I was vaguely aware of Lysette watching me, but she said nothing. She never did—not since the early days of our exile when she fought me on wearing it, and I shut her down. She, herself, had disposed of the rings Éiren had given her, not wanting the reminder.

But I needed the reminder. Julien’s defection blindsided me. At first, I wore the ring to remind myself to never take those closest to me for granted. To not hold back when it came to love, because people can only take so much of feeling like they don’t matter before they give up. It was my own hubris that left me vulnerable to his betrayal.

It was also a reminder to kill him on sight if I saw him again.

“Can we do a story?” Aster said, pulling me out of my rumination.

Lysette was still canning behind her, but she gave me a slight nod to indicate she was fine with letting us play a bit.

“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head slightly, coming back to my current reality, as far removed as possible from the reality in the memories I could never fully escape. “Which one are we doing now?”

“Treasure Island again, but we finished it,” she said with a slight pout.

“Okay. Well, go pick something fun.”

She ran over to the bookshelf, populated with a limited selection of secondhand volumes from a thrift store. Aster was less than a year old when Lysette and I agreed it was too dangerous to venture into society anymore, so the books there were the same ones she’d known her whole life, less a few that fell victim to her toddler ripping phase before I moved them out of her reach.

But we had a game, one Aster was absolutely brilliant at. Once she learned a story, we would read it together, acting out the scenes like a little play for just the three of us.

“Can we do a new one?” She pulled a worn book from the shelf, bringing it over to me.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

“I don’t know, Peachy,” I said slowly as I looked at the book I’d hoped was high up enough to not draw her attention until she was older—or ever. I bought the books in bulk, not paying too much attention to what was in the box, and there were a few we told Aster would have to wait until she was bigger. I always meant to just throw it away, but I couldn’t bear to put a dent in our already dismally sized library.

“I promise I’m old enough to handle it,” she said, putting her hands together to plead with me.

I sighed, giving myself a second to think. The idea of the moral ambiguity, of the benevolent man who could turn into a murderous bastard at the drop of a hat, was one I hadn’t wanted to present her with. Lysette and I had no intention of ever letting Aster meet her father, but the idea that she might and would possibly find him sympathetic because of some fictional character who couldn’t help his darker tendencies was enough to freeze my heart. He had proven his own darker tendencies were deadly, and being his child didn’t offer any protection from his lust for power.

The scar on my throat was testament to that.

But as Aster looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. Besides, the odds of her ever coming face to face with the man who brought about her conception was negligible. I knew I was just being paranoid.

“Okay,” I finally said, reaching for the book. “Listen good so you can pick which parts you want.”

As I read, I could see Aster hanging on every word, worrying me more and more. I caught Lysette’s eye and knew she felt the same, but we made a silent agreement not to draw attention to it. It was better that way, with Aster remaining unaware of the dark circumstances which led her to be here—until or unless it became entirely necessary to tell her.

After an hour or so, Aster yawned, her eyes starting to droop, and Lysette swooped in.

“Time for bed, everyone,” she said, pushing Aster’s hair behind her ears and kissing her forehead. “We need to get an early start tomorrow. The days aren’t going to get longer before snow hits.”

Aster groaned, but then stood and trudged her way to the bed she and Lysette shared, the only true bed in the space. They shared that one, and I slept in a makeshift loft on a futon I picked up from the side of the road on one of my few early and rare excursions into town—before I saw a couple of Black Roses and knew we couldn’t risk it anymore. Not when they were closing in.

That one day, however, I was lucky enough to be walking by the university when the students were moving out, and some of them had discarded the lumpy piece of furniture. It was a risk, renting a truck to cart it out here, but it was better than sleeping on the rug by the hearth like I did for the first few months.

As Aster settled into bed and I climbed the ladder to my loft, Lysette stoked the fire, coaxing a bit more warmth into the room, just like she did every night. Not a night went by that watching her do that didn’t scrape at the empty space within me. The ruby in my ring represented the fire magic that used to be a part of me—a part I was forced to destroy in a failed attempt to stop the poisonous magic Éiren had planted within me.

Lysette didn’t know, and I would never tell her. That not only had my innate magic left me, but the dark magic her evil ex forced into me was still there, simmering beneath the surface. I could feel it, always, itching to steal the magic and life from my sisters and burst out from me like a time bomb.

I’d barely begun to drift off when I heard a noise from outside, something big enough that I knew it wasn’t leaves rustling. This far out in the middle of nowhere, it wasn’t uncommon for us to get bears, wolves, and other predators going after the few chickens we had, and I would usually chase them off. I was exhausted after the long day, but we had already lost a few hens to some foxes a month back, and we couldn’t really afford to lose any more.

I dragged myself from the stiff futon and pulled my outer clothes back on, along with some thick wool gloves and a balaclava. If it was chilly earlier, the dark of night was frigid. With a lingering look at the warm, dying fire, I slipped outside and into the cold.

Our solar powered lantern lit the way as I circled the cottage, looking in and around the chicken coop and finding nothing. Not even the sound of scurrying feet.

Until I heard the crack of a stick coming from the woods.

I held up my lantern, but it was far enough away that I knew I wouldn’t be able to see whatever had done it.

And, to my horror, a second later, I heard voices.

Two men.

Black Roses? Had they finally found us?

“Shut the fuck up!” one whispered, only audible because of how silent the woods were otherwise. “Watch where you’re walking, asshat! Do you want him to hear us?”

Him. Not her, not them. Him.

Maybe they weren’t looking for us after all.

“Right, because stepping on a stick is worse than scolding me,” snapped the other. They were moving laterally compared to the cottage, which meant they were unlikely to find it. But if they ended up moving this way…

Before I could so much as finish the thought, something big collided with me, sending us both tumbling to the ground with a cry from my attacker.

I rolled quickly out from under the third person and scrambled to my feet as the sound of footsteps racing our way echoed through the trees. My lantern lay on the ground, providing the barest minimum of light to show me the terrified face of someone who couldn’t have been a day over twenty looking up at me. He might have been older, if he was a witch like me, but there was no magic coming off of him. He was entirely mortal.

Not one of Éiren’s.

“Gotcha!” said the first voice I’d heard as he broke through the brush, holding out his hand, in which he grasped a rather large handgun. The other followed close behind, his own pistol pointing at the kid on the ground, then up at me. It would have been so easy to unleash my dark magic at him, to end him before he could even consider pulling the trigger.

But I’d gone nine years without allowing that poison to reveal itself. I wasn’t about to use it on a pair of lowlifes, if I could help it.

Of course, I also wasn’t about to die out here and leave Lysette and Aster to the mercy of whatever these two had in store for anyone they came across.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded as his fellow continued to point his gun at the guy on the ground.

“Doesn’t matter,” the first said. “No witnesses.”

“To what?” I asked in an overly innocent voice. The lantern cast long shadows and glinted off the tears streaming down the face of the younger man, who was staring in terror at the weapon directed at him. He was filthy, his clothes ripped, scratches and bruises all over. He tried to scramble away, and I could see him favoring his left leg. Sprained, possibly even broken. But I didn’t have time to worry about that. Not when we both had guns pointing at us.

“None of your fucking business, bitch!”

What. A. Mistake.

The power surged from me, not entirely unbidden, and I heard the whimpers as they were flung back, just like a century ago, when that Black Rose bastard lifted a tree with only his magic and threw it at me. He said it was to “teach” me, but I didn’t realize at the time he was teaching me how to use dark magic. Not until he’d already given me my first taste of it—nothing compared to when he shoved it down my throat and forced it into me, right before he tried to kill me for real nine years ago.

With a wave of my hand, the gun of the first one flew from his grip and away into the woods. He cried out, and the one whose gun was already pointed at me looked at him, distracted just long enough for me to disarm him as well.

A surge of energy flowed through me. This wasn’t my own magic, the magic I was born with. This was an evil power which stole life force from others to fuel itself. I swore never to use it, believing it to be wrong. And especially once the only other people around were my family, I wasn’t going to risk stealing their life or magic to feed my own.

But if these fuckers wanted a fight, I was going to give it to them.

It had been far too long.

One of them rushed me, and I raised my hand, sending a wave of force at him that lifted him clean off the ground and slammed him backward into a tree. He crumpled to the forest floor, unmoving, and, for the first time, the other one looked scared.

My pulse was quick and my breathing heavy, and it had nothing to do with the adrenaline of the fight.

It was ecstasy, orgasmic in its intensity.

The feeling of the dark magic being given an outlet let it course through my body and mind was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I hadn’t used it in years—and never doing so on purpose, like tonight—and the buildup of that need in my system kept me glued to the ground. I felt a tingle in my fingers, desperate to use it again, to feel the rush build and build until it couldn’t build anymore.

But I knew what that would do to me and refused to let it happen. Even if I was willing to let myself become a despot like Éiren or a dark-dependent sycophant like Siobhan, I wasn’t willing to leave Lysette and Aster.

“You know,” I said, walking slowly toward him, removing my glove. “I’ve been called a lot of shit in my very, very long life. But that word is one I can’t stand. It’s worse than patronizing endearments like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘sugar,’ and those make my blood fucking boil. And if threatening me wasn’t already enough to piss me off, that pretty much sealed the deal.”

As I finished speaking, I held up my hand, feeling the familiar flame burst to life, as if there was a small campfire burning in my palm, warm and comforting, like an old friend. But this one wasn’t my own fire, red, orange, pure. This one flared black, purple, and blue with the fuel borne of the life force of the man before me. I didn’t want to let it rage too much and end up setting a blaze in the forest, but I wanted him to see my eyes.

The last thing he’d see.

He tried to back away but tripped over a root and landed hard on his ass.

“Who the fuck are you?” he whimpered, realizing the futility of his situation.

“I’m the witch in the fucking woods,” I snarled. “And you never should have come out here.”

I crouched down beside him and extinguished the fire, leaving the lantern once more as the only light. Then, slowly, I placed my hand on his chest. I let him think for a moment that, maybe, he was safe.

Then I pulled hard at his life and forced it back in with a huge burst of power, stopping his heart cold.

He slumped to the side, and I turned to the one he’d been chasing. The kid looked up at me in pure terror. A part of me wanted to die as he did. I wasn’t the bad guy. I wasn’t… him. But he’d given me a curse, one I could use when needed. I’d killed before, but only in pursuit of ending dark magic, and never giving into it. This, using that parasite to steal life and kill with it, was something else. It tapped into something deep-seated and latent within me, something I hoped I could bury deep again after this.

Because with how fucking good it felt, I wasn’t sure I could.

“Please… please, lady…” he begged, still sobbing.

“Why were they chasing you?” I asked. The fight should have taken a toll on me, especially as late at night as it was after a long day of work. But the dark magic imbued me with the pure force of life, and I felt alive, powerful. The energy flowing through me was itching to be released, and I knew it wouldn’t stop aching until it was.

And I needed to know if he was going to be the target for it.

“I saw… I saw a murder,” he gasped. “I was supposed to be a witness, but their… their boss… He was the one who killed her. I’m supposed to testify next week, and they came to my house. My parents weren’t home, and I just ran. I’ve been running for two days, hiding in the woods. I fell a few hours ago and think I broke my ankle, and they caught up with me. Please, lady, I don’t know who you are or how you can do that shit, but I’m innocent. Please let me go.”

The amount of self loathing I felt in that instant was overwhelming. Not because of what I’d done so far, but because, even with his desperate pleas, I was debating whether or not to let him live.

I was playing god. Like Éiren Fucking Connolly.

But the lives of the people I loved were on the line. And if this kid told anyone what happened here, I had no doubt the Black Roses would catch wind of it and find us. I needed to make sure he never spoke of “the witch in the woods.”

But how?

“This never happened,” I told him firmly. “You’ve seen what I can do, and I will know if you tell anyone. If I spare you today, you will never come here again, and you will keep this secret your whole life.”

He nodded fervently, hope springing from behind his eyes, and my heart dropped like a lead brick because I still didn’t know if I could let him go. Who had I become, that I would debate taking someone’s life to suit my own purposes, no matter how noble they may seem to me?

My fucking father, that’s who.

“I promise,” he said, his voice breathless. “I can keep a secret. I won’t—”

An echoing bang! rang out, and a burning pain tore through my side. The kid’s words were cut short as the bullet that pierced me first embedded itself in his forehead with a sick sort of splat. He slumped back to the forest floor, and I turned to the direction the shot was fired from.

The first guy, the one I thought was unconscious, had gotten up while I was addressing his victim and found his gun, and now he was pulling back the hammer to fire again.

But I wouldn’t give him a second chance.

A wave of my hand, and the gun flew from his grip once more, this time as far away into the forest as I could make it go. Not that it would matter, because I stepped forward and grabbed the man by the chin. There was a time when he might have been able to fight me off, but I had been living the pioneer life for close to a decade, building my strength, and I’d already claimed some of his life force.

Now… I would take it all.

It only took a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime as I drained everything the man had, feeling it fill me like the very essence of life and magic, themselves. When he finally fell to the ground, I looked down to see something no longer even truly resembling a person. It was shrunken and twisted, like it had been decomposing for months.

With the slightest shred of hope, I turned back to the younger guy. His eyes were open and glassy, but this energy had to go somewhere. And since my sire had once taught me how to heal myself using it, I knew I had to try.

I knelt down and placed my hand on his face, forcing what light I could into him. On the surface, it seemed like a good use of the magic, but when someone else’s life was the cost, it never seemed worth it.

But in this instance, I felt pretty good about it.

I knew instantly that it was futile. I could feel the dearth of life from him before I even started, and Lysette had always said once someone passed the veil, healing couldn’t do a thing.

Ten, twenty minutes passed, the dark magic raging within me with nowhere to go, and still, I tried. The shame of having even considered killing this kid, only a few years older than Aster, was almost enough to overpower the churning energy, begging for release. I swore I wouldn’t be like him, and the second I was confronted with the moral dilemma, I froze.

I truly was my father’s daughter, and it made me sick.

I reached out with a trembling hand to slide his eyelids shut. I wished I could tell Lysette, and we could come out and bury him properly. We could never take him home and risk being found, but we could do right by him.

But I knew I couldn’t. Not without revealing what I’d done and how, and I needed Lysette to still believe I wasn’t ruined.

This young man, whose name I didn’t even know, would be picked apart by scavengers and lost to time, his family never knowing what happened to him.

And I had to find a way of living with that.

The burning throbbing in my side grounded me enough to remember I had another wound to heal, something I could use the magic on that wouldn’t hurt anyone else. I focused on the pain, on the torn skin, and allowed the power to flow to it, healing the injury but leaving it just slightly open so I could explain the blood on my clothes. It didn’t seem to have damaged anything major inside, so by the time I was finished, I still had a plethora of magic buzzing inside of me. The only thing I could think to do with it was to hide the scene as best I could.

I said a silent apology to the boy and got to work. Reaching into that churning fount again, I lifted my hands, allowing the cool-toned flames to ignite. They cast an eerie glow around the area, highlighting the carnage and stoking my shame once more. With careful concentration, I willed the fire to each of the bodies, controlling the blaze so it didn’t spread into the woods, only burning the remains I left, cremating them, so they would never be found.

Thankfully, controlling the fire took even more energy than creating it, releasing all of that pent-up energy. Less than thankfully, that absence came with a feeling of withdrawal, and I knew I needed to get it under control before I went back inside. There was no way I would subject my sisters to this version of myself.

I walked back toward the cabin, taking the long way around, and was relieved the exercise centered me enough to no longer crave the stolen magic as much. It was still there—always—but it was controllable.

And by the time I fell into my futon, despite the emotional agony of what just happened, I was spent enough to fall right asleep.

I didn’t dream, and when Lysette shook me awake shortly after dawn, I wished for our old life, the one where we had all the luxuries we could have hoped for and could sleep as late as we wanted every day. Where we had a home, bustling with people and love and good, untainted magic.

“Beatrice…” she said slowly, holding up my coat and looking at the bullet hole surrounded by blood. “What the hell happened?”

“Oh, uh…” I exaggerated a wince as I sat up. “I heard something outside last night. A bear. I chased it off, but I poked myself with the knife. Can you…?”

Thankfully, she was tired enough that she believed me.

A part of me wished she saw through the lie.

“Come here,” she said in the exasperated tone she commonly used when talking to me. “Show me.”

I pulled up my thermal shirt, and she placed her hand over the wound, white light radiating from her touch and soothing the pain until it faded entirely. Not like the evil poison I healed myself with last night, but true life magic.

“Be more careful, okay?” she said, kissing my forehead. “I only have one Bea. Can’t exactly replace you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said with a grin so she knew I wasn’t really brushing her off. “Same goes for you.”

“I’m not the one stabbing myself,” she shot back with an equally indulgent smile.

I wondered if she’d still feel as warmly toward me if she knew.

Aster woke up not long after, and we enjoyed some porridge as we fueled up for another day in the field. Once we were fed and clothed warmly enough for the frosty morning, we opened the door, and Aster pushed past us to run directly into the small field of wheat blowing through the wind.

“Can’t catch me!” she called back at us.

I looked at Lysette with a grin and a shrug.

“Ten minutes?”

Lysette nodded, her own smile tired but happy. Living just the three of us led to some tense times, but it forced us to enjoy the little things, particularly each other’s company and whatever fun we could manage.

We chased after the flowing red hair, just barely visible over the tops of the stalks, all of us laughing.

Until I was hit by a wave of such power that I stumbled and retched. My ears popped as a deafening whoosh followed the blast, and I stopped in my tracks.

Magic.

Big, powerful magic.

For the second time in only a few hours, I worried we’d been found.

I looked at Lysette in terror and saw my own fear mirrored back at me. It was clear from the look on her face that she had no more idea than I did of what could create a surge like that, but we both knew it meant nothing good.

“Aster!” Lysette screamed.

The little girl heard the tone in her mother’s voice and was at our sides in an instant. I drew my knife, knowing it was likely a pointless gesture, but if Éiren or any of his acolytes were close by, we needed to be protected. I would use the darkness if I had to, but only if I had to.

Several minutes went by, and I locked eyes with Lysette. The initial surge of the magic faded, so I knew it wasn’t an immediate, nearby threat, but the feeling within me lingered. Something had happened, something that affected us both. At the same moment, our arms wrapped around Aster and each other, an unspoken reminder of our promise to protect her and each other with our lives.

“What was that?” Aster asked, her voice shaky and afraid. I’d never heard that tone from her, and that alone was enough to send chills down my spine.

“I don’t know, baby,” Lysette crooned to her, brushing Aster’s hair with her fingers, soothing her. She looked at me, her eyes begging for some kind of answer, but I didn’t want to say what I knew. What I felt.

That thread of magic from Hecate, my ancestor, that linked me to the ring—had helped me to find it—was thrumming with that same blast of power. I’d felt little surges of that feeling every month since we went on the run, not knowing what it was, though I had my suspicions. I hadn't told Lysette, not wanting to worry her, since it didn’t seem to be full or permanent. Now, my heart pounded in my throat as I felt Hecate’s presence more strongly than I ever had, and I knew beyond a doubt, even if Lysette didn’t…

Éiren had activated the ring.

I never knew my mother, so I had no idea what being a mother would be like. To be honest, even if I had known, I still couldn’t have imagined the depths my love, true love, could reach.

Life on the road when we first escaped Éiren was hard enough before I realized I was pregnant, but once my body became less my own, our rate of travel was near to nothing. It took us three months to get through the Midwest before I couldn’t travel any longer. We made use of drop in clinics to ensure the child was well, but when I finally gave birth, it was in a cash-only roadside motel, biting on a leather belt while Bea tried to avoid fainting.

Aster Beatrice Chevalier was brought into the world, wrapped in a threadbare towel and rocked to sleep in Bea’s arms while I healed myself. I had never seen anything as beautiful as her, despite—or perhaps because of—her resemblance to the man I would always love, the one I saw in every single dream I had, every single night.

When we felt the surge of power, I knew it was him. I wasn’t sure how, since we still had free will, and if he’d managed to fully harness the power he sought, he would have been able to command me out of hiding with a thought. And I had no doubt, with the level of his obsession, that would be his first order of business.

I barely slept that night, every dream a nightmare. Memories of what he’d done and fears of what he might do if given the chance flooded my subconscious. I saw him making love to me in Japan right before I discovered he’d been watching me, spying on me. I saw the day I caught him using dark magic at the Smithsonian and had to excommunicate him from the Circle of the White Orchid. I saw Aster at his house, throat slit like I’d seen Bea’s when he tried to use her for a sacrifice, trying a second time with his other daughter.

That was the image burned into my brain as I rocketed back to consciousness, grateful it wasn’t real but terrified that it might yet be.

I hadn’t even opened my eyes, but I buried my face in my daughter’s thick auburn hair, breathing in deeply and kissing her head, thankful I had the ability to keep her safe for so long. She smelled of fresh air and the lavender soap we made ourselves, a smell I could never get enough of. I pulled her limp, sleeping body closer to mine and wrapped my arms tightly around her. She was mine, and nothing would ever change that, regardless of how she was conceived or what the future held.

As I finally pried my eyelids open, I spotted Bea at our tiny, handmade table, drinking tea and staring out the window. As was the case every year, we soon would have to block them off with furs or wood to keep us from freezing to death.

“Hey,” I said softly, and she looked up at me, startled.

“Hey,” she whispered. “I thought I was the only one awake.” It was still dark outside, morning still a few hours away.

I yawned and attempted to pry Aster from my arms, but found myself stuck.

Without even knowing what magic really was and still being far younger than most when they come into their powers, Aster inherited her father’s ability to manipulate organic matter—to paralyze, in a tiny, child level capacity. Which meant my baby girl could keep me clung to her as long as she wanted, even in sleep.

“Would you…?” I asked Bea, indicating to the little girl. Bea gave a tired chuckle that didn’t quite meet her eyes and came to my side, pulling Aster’s arms gently away from me.

“Come on,” she said grimly, brushing my daughter’s hair with her fingers to soothe her back into a deep sleep. “I feel like we have a lot to talk about.”

I stretched my legs and arms, finally free of her clutches, and I stood, grabbing for a blanket I knitted last winter and wrapping it around me. Then, I followed Bea to the table, taking one last look at the nightmare I loved so dearly.

We sat in silence for a while, staring out the window, in the smallest amount of light from the stars and the dying fire inside, over the wheat field, which was supposed to be a place of joy and fun. It had been for years—until it transformed into a theater of terror when Éiren’s magic swelled. I knew Bea was thinking about it too, her face knit into a worried frown, and it seemed like now, while Aster was asleep, was the best time to discuss it, since we’d chosen not to when she was awake.

“Nine years,” I said, the cold air burning my airway, even inside, as I sighed. “What could have happened after nine years to cause that? It… It felt like—”

“I know,” Bea shuddered, her voice shaking as surely as her fingers as she gave voice to the fears I’d been hoping she would assuage with a denial. I should have known better—Bea wasn’t one to mince words or pretend things were okay when they weren’t. “I knew immediately. I felt her—Hecate, I mean. It was him. He used the ring. He has her power.”

I shook my head and shivered. “Aster is here, safe, with us,” I said, affirming it to myself as much as to Bea. “There’s no way he could do it without her. Right?”

She cupped her hands around her mouth, blowing into them and rubbing her palms and fingers together for warmth.

“I don’t know…” she said slowly, shaking her head as if pondering ways to reject this harsh reality and failing. “I wouldn’t put anything past him. He’s conniving and ruthless and pure evil. We both know that if he found a way, no matter who it hurt, he would have used it.”

My whole body trembled as I thought about what waited for me, what felt like a million miles away—who waited for me. Someone who would tear the world apart with impunity to reclaim everything he deemed his.

An ache in my stomach was accompanied by flashbacks of that night in Okinawa when I found the incriminating evidence against him. When I found out that, despite Éiren being out of the coven house, he had managed to bug every inch of my existence to watch us—to watch me. I looked up at Bea.

“But something wasn’t right—right?” I begged. “He did something, but if he activated the ring for real, we wouldn’t be sitting here. He’d have issued a command, used that power to take what he wants.”

Bea nodded solemnly, her eyes still on something I couldn’t see, far enough away that even her voice sounded like it came from halfway across the world. “Yeah. He got something right, but something is still wrong. But if he’s this close…”

My breath caught at every implication those words carried. That he had hurt someone to gain this new power, and that he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt even more to increase it. That he would hurt the people I loved.

“So, what do we do now?”

Bea looked at me, her eyes alight with a defiant and bold expression I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. “We do what we should have done all along. We get ahead of him—as much as we can, anyway. We’re not safe here anymore. He’s going to find us. I’m not going to let you and Aster sit here waiting for him to come for you.”

I grabbed her wrist tighter than perhaps I should have, a visceral, animalistic wave of panic washing over me. “Get ahead of Éiren? Because we’ve never tried that before? There’s a reason we chose to hide instead of fight.” I could feel the tears building in my eyes as the volume built in my voice, and it was only repressed when I remembered Aster sleeping nearby.

I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to try to explain Éiren to her, despite the number of times it went through it in my mind. How do you tell the most beautiful and clever child you’ve ever known that she was a calculated attack on your body and mind? How could I ever explain to her that I let her father do it… and said thank you?

The tears spilled down my cheeks, and a wave of heat washed over me, a result of my own shame at having allowed a child to be brought into this world that might end up as fodder for her father’s ambition.

Bea was on her feet in an instant, her arms around my shoulders, holding me close and stroking my hair.

“We don’t have a choice. And the last time…” She squeezed me tighter. “I hesitated. For you. When we started… When we first found out about the ring, I could have gone straight for Éiren, tried to kill him before he even left North Carolina, but I didn’t because I didn’t want you to be hurt if there was another way.” She leaned back and sat down, dragging her chair closer, her hands still on my arms, a comforting warmth. “This time I don’t care. I’d rather lose you for killing him than lose either of you because he killed you.”

Her eyes were honest, and I tried to smile for her benefit.

“You will never lose me.” I leaned in and hugged her tightly, the feeling of her skin against mine weirdly comforting, almost like I was a child being held by my own mother.

Bea’s voice cracked when she returned my embrace. “You promised me that once before and nearly broke that promise. For him. We don’t need to rehash the past, but all that matters is that I won’t ask you to make that promise again. I don’t know if you can or if you ever could truly mean it, and I stopped blaming you for that a long time ago.”

I locked my eyes onto Bea’s silver ones with a small chill dotting my arms as I remembered whose eyes I was staring into, but I fought the urge to look away and relaxed my shoulders. This wasn’t him. This was Bea. My sister.

“We’ve both made mistakes,” I said. “But something… changed. I don’t need to tell you again. I could never, ever go back to him now. I wouldn’t do that to myself, and I wouldn't do that to Aster.”

Like a water-stained filmstrip projected onto a white cotton sheet, the memories of the better times with Éiren played, night and day. Memories I once thought I’d be able to reclaim some day, some way, when he got tired of his dark magic obsession and came home. But they were poison on my tongue now, and cold emptiness tainted the good. It wove through the images as thoroughly as my deadly dark magic, rotting away at the love that once was there.

I would never be able to feel that love again. Never in a million years.

Bea stroked my hair, tears pooling in the corners of her own eyes. “I believe you, Lys,” she whispered. “And I hope when I kill him, you still feel the same.” She kissed my forehead and went to start a kettle for tea, leaving me shocked at the bluntness of her comment.

Kill him.

Now wasn’t the time to have this conversation, but I knew in my heart there was only one person in the world who should end the evil that was Éiren Connolly, and that was me. I knew, from the depths of my soul, I would either kill him or die trying.

I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t envision or imagine how it would all play out. The few times I tried, I found myself vomiting behind our shed in the cold, dead of night. But it was always meant to be me. He’d taken my heart, he’d taken my brother, he’d taken my coven, my autonomy, my trust, and he’d taken my freedom. I wouldn’t allow him to take anything else, and I would ensure he never could again—from me or anyone.

As he had destroyed me, so, too, would I destroy him.

“It will never be enough to get ahead of him,” I said, returning to my previous train of thought. “We have to outsmart him. And you know as well as I do that doing that will be the hardest thing we’ve ever had to do.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bea snorted. Her brow furrowed, and the carefree sister I’d come to know since we went into hiding, who was as much a mother to Aster as I was, vanished. This was Bea the hunter, the tactician who had tracked down and destroyed so many of Éiren’s acolytes over the years. This was the Bea I had never realized was born of Éiren himself, the part of her that could calculate exactly what was needed in a situation. The part that was ruthless and clever and unstoppable.

Maybe—hopefully—that would actually work to our advantage.

“We need to find people who are afraid of him,” she said, her eyes moving as if she was reading a large map I couldn’t see, “but not so afraid they won’t stand with us. They need to fear a future with him in charge, but not his retribution in the present. And we have to be careful. If he knows what we’re doing, we’re as good as his. Which means we need to be ready to kill those we can’t trust.” She looked at me grimly. “It’s been a long time since either of us had to do that.”

I withdrew my hands and looked to the floor. The prospect of getting on his level made me afraid—afraid my own darkness would consume me, something I’d promised myself was finished.

“As a last resort only, Beatrice. I can’t stomach the idea of hurting people to fight him. That makes us absolutely no better than him.”

Bea squirmed uncomfortably, but then a cold, mirthless smirk spread across her face as she stared into the fire. “I know. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you don’t have to.”

For a moment we were back at the White Orchid house, and I was scolding her for killing Black Roses. She had a glint in her eyes I’d seen one too many times to not know exactly what it meant. It meant she was steeling herself to do something she saw as necessary for the greater good.

Just like him.

I wanted to address it somehow, to remind her that we couldn’t become like him. But part of me knew she was right, so I chose to ignore it, saving that, too, for another day’s conversation.

“So, where do we even begin?” I started to ask her, but I heard a small sigh from behind me and looked over to find Aster rubbing her eyes sleepily and sniffling.

“Momma?” she asked tiredly, sitting up. “Why aren’t you sleeping? It’s cold without you.”

I looked to Bea, biting my lip and trying to resist the urge to burst into tears. With my eyes, I begged her for her graceful skill at distracting Aster on a level she had mastered, one I failed at when memories of their father threatened to swallow me whole.

Bea nodded so subtly I nearly missed it before rushing to Aster, throwing herself onto the bed and tickling my daughter. “Because, Peachy, you were snoring so loudly we couldn’t sleep another moment.” Then, with a laugh that, despite the painful conversation we just had, seemed to go all the way down into her soul, she lifted Aster from the bed and held her like a baby, swinging her from side to side, and their giggles filled the cabin.

“I don’t snore!” Aster protested, writhing to escape Bea’s grasp, but Bea held tighter.

“Oh, but you do,” Bea teased, then carried Aster to the door, setting her down to wrap her in layers to protect against the cold. “But I’m glad you’re awake because I want to show you something.” Bea glanced at me over Aster’s shoulder. “You see… we’re going to be going on a trip soon, and I want to find as many shooting stars as we can before we do. Some of the places we’re going to go—you can’t see them like you can here, and I want to collect them, to remember while we’re away.”

I felt my throat catch with a familiar feeling, but in a wildly different context. I’d known Bea for hundreds of years, and this tenderness, this pure light that shone through when she was caring for Aster, when she was protecting her from the harsh, toxic truth, was like seeing her for the first time. Like seeing the real her.

I stood and went to the bed, kneeling to pull a suitcase from beneath it which hadn’t been used since it was put there. As Bea and Aster closed the rickety wooden door behind them, I glanced around at all we had made. Handmade brick by handmade brick, wooden beam by wooden beam, every cut and every drop of sweat and every sleepless night, the home we had forged from absolutely nothing. When we were gone, it would return to nothing once more, claimed by the forest which created and hid it. Laying cold and lifeless, a living metaphor for the way my heart felt inside me.

But I didn’t cry—not for this. I knew any pain I might feel at walking away from the simplicity of this life was going to be infinitesimal compared to what lay ahead. The death, destruction, destitution, and salvation—if we were lucky—would take everything we had, maybe even our lives.

But it was worth it. Worth it for Aster and for Bea.

Worth it for me.

The next several days went by in a blur of packing and planning, going over who we knew in every corner of the world that might be willing to help us. We had no way of knowing what letting Éiren rise to the power he aspired to would really mean for witches everywhere, but we knew it was nothing good.

I shouldn’t have been surprised Aster was able to adapt to such an extreme change from the life she always knew so easily, but I was. She took every piece of information we were willing to share with her in stride, asking how she could help. Each time she did, Lysette’s eyes shone with tears, knowing what Aster was really asking was how she could help to take down her own father.

The night before our planned departure, I couldn’t sleep. Lysette’s snores and Aster’s soft breathing were the percussive beat behind the melody of the crackling fire and whistling wind. I was curled up on my futon, staring down into the fading embers, my fingers brushing the blank pages of the journal in my lap.

Lysette had given it to me when we journeyed out here. She hoped writing down my feelings about everything that happened would help me deal with it. Deal with Julien’s betrayal. The truth of my parentage. The loss of my magic. If she had any clue just how deep that pain went—that I was also tainted—she wouldn’t have bothered. She would have kicked me out like she did to Éiren, and she would have been well within her rights to do so.

It’s what I would have done.

The fire was fading quickly now. Just as I did nearly every night, I tried to reach into that empty well within me to find my own flame, to reignite the blaze and feel connected to myself again.

And just as I did each time I tried, I felt nothing there. I tried for hours, but nothing happened.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the room was cold and dark, the fire having long gone out. I reached for the blanket at my feet to pull it around me. That was when I realized I was held in place by a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist.

“Béatrice…”

No. No. It couldn’t be. My heart pounded in thundering beats as I tried to cry out, but Julien’s hand covered my mouth quickly.

“Don’t scream. I’m not going to hurt you. Not anymore.” His other hand gently ran up and down my arm as though to prove his point. “Besides. I stopped time. It’s just you and me in this moment. I didn’t want to wake them.”

He released me, and I scrambled away from him and to my feet, stepping backward until my legs collided with an end table I knew contained one of my knives. I tucked my hands behind my back, aiming for a look of wary confusion to keep him unaware as I quietly pulled it from the drawer and held it out of sight, ready to strike.

“How did you find us?” I demanded in a trembling voice.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He looked exactly like he did the last time I saw him, right down to the disgusting rose tattoo on his forearm. His hazel eyes didn’t meet mine when he said, “Éiren. He’s known where you are for years.”

My stomach bottomed out at the realization that my enemy, who I spent so many years hiding from, living off the land and away from all society, knew where I’d been all along. “Then why send you now? Why not come for us sooner?” Try as I might to hide it, every word betrayed just how terrified I was.

Julien stood, still keeping his distance. “He only just figured out why your blood failed. He wasn’t going to try to kill another of his children until he knew for sure it would work.” He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “But he doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I scoffed, feeling for that dark magic within me, unsure if it would be more powerful than his but knowing I had to try. I just needed to wait for the right opening, and then I could drain him dry like the hitman in the woods. “Run along, little lapdog. Tell him he was right. And tell him—”

“Tell him how you took to the dark current within you as well as he did?” Julien frowned and finally stepped forward, pulling my wrist from behind me to look at my scar. He closed his eyes as his fingers traced the edges and grooves. My pulse began to race at his touch. It was gentle, and I found myself faltering from my plan to kill him. “It’s there—I feel it. You couldn’t get rid of it. I couldn’t either. The urge… the need to use it… I know how bad it hurts.” His eyes opened into mine, and the pain there was so intense I thought I might crumble right alongside him. “I’m sorry.”

“I got rid of the rest,” I admitted in a small voice, finally able to say the things I never could to Lysette. “All of my magic, my fire, my ice… But that held on.”

“No,” he shook his head, studying me, closing his eyes and taking a breath, like he could taste it on the air. “It’s all there. It’s just… hiding.”

“I wish I could believe that,” I whispered thickly, the devastation of my loss fresh once more. Without meaning to, I leaned toward him, his warmth familiar even after so many years apart. “But it’s been too long. I know better.”

He tugged on my arm, pulling me into an embrace and kissing my hair. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t really be here, as loving as I remembered.

Could he?

“You smell just the same, Béatrice,” he murmured, pressing his face against my cheek. “I fucked up. I let him… I helped him. God, I can’t even… But I’m here to make it right. I’m here for you, for Lysette, for Aster. Éiren won’t lay a hand on any of you. Not as long as I’m breathing.”

I was stone solid, tensed against this contact I’d gone for so long without, from him or anyone. I thought I didn’t need it. I thought I didn’t want or need it, and yet, as I felt his fingers stroking my hair, his breath on my ear, I fell into him.

And then his lips were on mine, familiar, warm, missed more than I realized. A hundred thousand other kisses filled my mind, and I gave over to every part of me that turned him away again and again until he left me forever—or so I thought.

The knife clattered to the floor as I dropped it to wrap my hands behind his neck, my heart pounding in my ears and tears flowing fast and free into our open mouths, flavoring our reunion with salt and melancholy.

He lifted me from the floor and carried me back to my bed, laying me in the sheets and pulling my sweater off in a single fluid motion before his lips moved to my neck . He paused for the length of a single breath on the faintest hint of a pink scar where Éiren cut my throat, leftover from when Lysette healed me. He leaned away, his fingers tracing the line, and his brow furrowed.

“I’ll kill him for this,” he growled. “This and every other evil thing he’s done. I will never be able to make everything up to you, to make amends, but I will never stop trying.” He leaned forward to catch my lips with his own again, and I gave into it, kissing him back like it was the first time. His hand was a gentle pressure against the skin on my neck, making my heart flutter with unbridled joy.

Until it wasn’t gentle anymore.

Suddenly, that hand was tightening, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. He pulled away, and a cruel smile came over his face. Julien had never been rough—not like this. Never in a way that hurt. I fucked up. This wasn’t the Julien I remembered from centuries of knowing and loving him. This was the Julien I saw at the Black Rose mansion, the one who stood aside and let Éiren torture me, the one who faked his death and chose Siobhan over me, right in front of me.

He bent forward to whisper in my ear, even as my vision was overcome with spots.

“You thought you could run?” he said, except the voice was no longer Julien’s, though I knew it just as well. If I could have drawn breath, I’d have gasped and screamed, but my airway had completely collapsed under his grip, and I knew I had seconds of consciousness left.

It was a trick. All a trick, and I fell for it. The realization came over me far too slowly as my brain starved for oxygen, as I faced death by his hand for the third time.

When he leaned back again, the gaze that met mine was a mirror to my own. Those steely gray eyes, cold and deadly, sat beneath a ruddy fringe that hung over his forehead, knocked loose from its usual immaculate coif by the effort of strangling me. Éiren’s face was a mask of triumph as he reached beneath my pillow to pull out my favorite knife, the one I kept there, always.

My insurance policy, now in the hands of my enemy.

“The only thing you accomplished was postponing your inevitable demise,” he said in his savage brogue. He lifted the blade to my eyes, making sure I saw it glint in the low light. Then, with a sigh of something like ecstasy, he slashed once more across the scar he’d put there, himself.

The sting was as potent as I remembered, and the slow burning and throbbing that followed nearly caused me to black out instantly. He released me, knowing I wouldn’t be able to scream, then stood and slowly ran a bloody hand through his hair, looking down at me before his gaze panned over the edge of the loft and toward the bed, where Aster no longer lay.

Where was she? I hoped she was safe…

He descended the ladder, and I heard the clank of a belt buckle. A light groan crossed his lips as he watched my sister sleeping soundly, alone and vulnerable to him. “If you’ll excuse me… Béatrice… I have other business to attend to. My honeymoon was cut short, and I intend to enjoy what’s mine.”

I tried. I tried to scream, to warn Lysette, but all I succeeded in doing was sending my own blood into my lungs and across my lips. The bubbling, gurgling sensation that haunted my nightmares since the first time he nearly killed me with my own blade was real again, and I felt my tears, no longer joyful, dripping to join the blood rapidly coating my pillow, my sheets…

“Hello, Rosie,” I heard Éiren whisper as he laid himself over her.

“No!”

“Bea!”

“Noooooo!”

“Beatrice!”

The wind was knocked out of me as Lysette slapped me hard across the face, the force enough to send me toppling off the futon. My knees cracked against the wooden floors, sending a jolt of pain through my whole body as I gasped for air, my throat intact and my lungs empty of blood. It was still dark, but we were alone, with Aster still asleep and unaware, safe and sound in bed, despite my screaming.

A dream. It was just a dream. A fucking nightmare of a nightmare.

As the shock faded, I curled onto the floor, weeping. Lysette bent down to me, and I flinched, the feeling of Julien’s and Éiren’s hands on me still fresh and potent.

“Speak, Beatrice?” she asked, concern radiating from each word.

“No,” I said, staring out the window at the horizon, which was just starting to glow pink. “It was a dream. Bad one. That’s all.”

Lysette frowned and crossed her arms, studying my face in a way that made me feel naked before turning away. She went to the pitcher of water we collected from the pump before dark and filled the copper kettle before placing it in the fire.

“Worst one you’ve had in a while,” she said, looking at me over her shoulder.

It was a question, even though she didn’t speak the words needed to ask it, and I tried to come up with the words to tell her without telling her.

“It doesn’t matter. It was just a nightmare involving… uninvited guests.”

Our impending face off with our very real demons had migrated into my sleep, and I doubted this would be the last of it. There was a nagging sense of fear I’d never felt before in my life, knowing that to use magic against them would make me more and more like them.

“We don’t have to do this,” she said. “We can keep hiding.”

“No,” I said, still shaking as badly as the time I got hypothermia our first year here, before we figured out how to keep warm properly. “We can’t. He obviously unlocked something, but it’s not the full force of the ring yet. He's getting closer, and as soon as he figures it out, he’ll be able to command us to come out of hiding. To do anything.” I shuddered at the thought of him forcing me to use dark magic to hurt people, especially people I cared about. Forcing Lysette to use it, probably even against me.

Forcing Aster to do it…

“I won’t let him,” Lysette said as she poured me a cup of tea, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her own fear. “Maybe he’ll listen to me—to reason.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “Trying to talk him out of it, I mean. The last time you thought he could be reasoned with… Well, I remember how your poison tastes, and I’d rather not relive that.”

“You won’t,” she said a bit too forcefully, then sighed. “But you’re right. We need power behind us before we face him in person. And I never want Aster to be there. Not when… when we have to do what we’ll probably have to.”

I shook my head fervently. “No. Never. We’ll make sure she’s safe before we ever confront him.”

Lysette nodded slowly, then sipped her own tea. “But she’ll never be safe with him around, will she?” Her voice broke, and for the first time since she swore they were done, I saw the grief she still carried shining through. I also knew “around” was code for “alive.” And it went for both of them—for the ones who’d betrayed us.

“No,” I said. “None of us will—witches and non-witches. We’ve hidden as long as we can.”

“I let it happen,” she said wearily. “I’m the one who let him get away with his ‘research’ and then kicked him out so he could double down on it without any kind of oversight. It’s up to me to stop it.”

“Up to us,” I corrected. “I’m not letting you do this or anything alone. You promised to never leave my side, and I’m not leaving yours. Neither of you.”

“Bea, your magic—”

“I have my knives,” I said quickly, trying to keep my magic out of the conversation. “And besides, he won’t pass up the chance to finish what he started. He may want me dead more than he wants the power. He thinks without me stopping you, you’ll come running back to him.”

Her eyes shone with tears and acceptance. She knew I would do whatever I could to help, but she had no idea that I had a greater weapon at my disposal than just my knives. I carried with me the same darkness Éiren valued more than anything in this world, even the woman he claimed to love.

The raw power of death and destruction.

She needed to know. Lysette needed to know she didn’t have to protect me from the Black Roses or their leader. She needed to know, because if I had to pull from that fount of power, I wasn’t sure I could stop it again, and she’d likely have to protect herself and Aster from me.

“Lys…” I choked on her name. Part of me wanted to give her my knife and tell her to finish it now, to eliminate the liability of me being near her and her daughter when the stakes were this high. But I knew I could never leave them alone, not until Éiren and Julien couldn’t touch them. A confession then, and she could decide my fate. “Lysette, I—”

We heard Aster rustling in the covers, and both of our heads turned toward her. The words died on my lips. The moment had passed, and I knew now that I would never tell her, not unless I had to. So, instead, I finished my tea and stood, stretching.

“Let’s get moving. We have some nightmares to face.”

Paris, August 23, 1574

“Can you go fetch your brother, please, darling Lysette? He was expected in court an hour ago.”

I looked up at my father from where I was reading in the palace gardens, the late afternoon sunlight glinting in my eyes.

“Do you know where he may have gone?” I asked with a sigh as I closed my book. Julien had taken care of me endlessly when I was a child, being my constant protector and friend, despite being ten years older. But close to a hundred years later, he seemed to have decided I was capable of taking care of myself, though things often led to me being responsible for him in some way.

Not that we never had fun. Only last week, we stole as many bottles of Bordeaux as we could carry from the queen’s private stores. He’d been caught and ended up having to debase himself in a rather humorous manner to get away, while I got good and drunk on my own loot.

Father’s lips grew tight. “I believe he was last seen with Seigneur Gaspard’s daughter…” He shifted uncomfortably. We both knew what that meant.

“Merde,” I breathed, getting to my feet, resigned to my task.

Julien had been courting her for weeks, something I’d wanted to warn her against, but I hadn’t gotten the chance to get her alone to do so. My brother was a hopeless romantic, but his attention strayed as easily as a dog with a nearby bird. He loved every single person he bedded deeply, but never for more than a few hours at a time, breaking their hearts when morning came.

“Thank you,” Father said, kissing my head. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I gave him a quick smile before standing and making my way inside, to the wing of the palace where our rooms were. The Circle of the White Orchid had been invited to the Tuileries as guests of Henry of Navarre, heir to the throne. He wasn’t a witch, himself, but knew about us and had long used our coven’s services as spies to maintain his position, especially with the heated sentiments of many people toward him due to religious differences.

I knew Father could have probably found Julien easily by simply going to his chambers, but he had little patience for my brother’s antics. As the elder, Julien was the heir to the coven, but Father often said he had a lot of growing to do before he would be worthy of inheriting it.

I paused outside the door, contemplating the role I’d been thrust into as his keeper. I was just as culpable as my brother when it came to bedmates and frivolity, but between the two of us, I was better at hiding it. It helped that I never missed an appointment, something Julien was notorious for.

I knocked, and when there was no answer, I knocked again. I was about to walk away until I heard him laugh from inside.

With a breath to steel myself, I opened the door and was met with exactly the scene I expected.

My brother’s tights were pulled down around his knees as he stood at the edge of his bed, and Beatrix Gaspard was stark naked, face down on the mattress. His hands gripped her hips as he thrust into her, eliciting some highly performative moans and squeals from the girl.

“I hate to interrupt—”

Both of them startled so hard they separated, and Beatrix scrambled for the sheet to cover herself while Julien rushed to pull his tights back up.

“Lysette,” he said with a grin that was somehow embarrassed at being caught while carrying not an ounce of shame for his actions. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’d imagine not,” I said, any frustration at being forced to find him like this not quite strong enough to combat the amusement at his utter roguishness. “But you were expected at court an hour ago.”

“Damn,” he said, glancing at the timepiece on his mantle. It was ironic how often someone who could stop time ended up being late. Probably because he didn’t care as much as he should. “I suppose I should go, then.”

“I’d say so, unless you want Father and His Highness to come in here, themselves.” I looked at the scandalized girl in his bed. “Or your father. I hear he’s recovering well from the incident?” As the king’s lead military advisor, he’d survived an assassination attempt only two days prior.

She nodded, blushing. “Yes. Barely a scratch on him, though he wouldn’t admit he was hurt even if he’d lost an arm.”

“Good,” I said with a nod. “I’ll send in a maid to help you back into your corset.”

Julien gave her a little bow, then I turned to leave with him at my heels. The second we were in the otherwise empty hall and out of sight of his companion, I recognized a stilling in the air as he stopped time to prevent us from being any later than he already was.

“You’re an imbecile,” I told him amidst the privacy he’d given us. “Gaspard’s daughter? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, a grin on his face that said he knew exactly what I meant but was baiting me.

I rolled my eyes at him. “I mean when you break her heart, her father will have you executed for defiling her.”

He laughed and nudged me with his arm. “Who said I’d break her heart? I actually picked up a book because of her.”

“Truly?” I asked dryly. He wasn’t illiterate or uneducated by any means. He just usually sought other pleasures in life outside of learning new things. “Which one?”

“The Divine Comedy,” he said. “She said it’s her favorite. Not that I believe in such things as Heaven and Hell, but it’s fascinating to see the perception of what religious types see as reasonable punishments and rewards for their supposed sins or lack thereof.”

“And I’m certain the fact that Monsieur Alighieri’s beloved shares her name has nothing to do with either of your enjoyment of it?”

“It helps to provide a visual, certainly.” A smile passed his face, and I knew I was in for a rakish comment. “Though I don’t need much more of a visual than I finally got this afternoon.”

I scoffed and gave him a playful shove. “You’re repulsive.”

“And you find it amusing,” he accused with a chuckle.

“Father doesn’t.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “It might not hurt to spend a little bit of time focused more on showing him you’re ready to lead the coven and less on being such an impulsive scoundrel.”

He sighed, shaking his head but still smiling despite the sadness in his eyes. “I will consider it.” It may have sounded like a dismissal, but I knew him well enough to know how deeply he sought Father’s approval, something he still struggled to obtain most of the time.

We arrived at the doors to the court chambers, and I turned to him, helping to straighten his doublet and smooth out his hair.

“Go,” I said, nodding my head toward the door. “Show them why you belong here. I believe in you.”

He kissed me on each cheek, then turned and entered the room. I waited a moment, then made my way back to my own chambers, where I spent hours reading until night fell.

I awoke suddenly, having fallen asleep while reading. My book was lying on my face, blocking out any light I might have been able to see otherwise, but the second I removed it, I nearly screamed.

Someone was in my room, standing over me, only visible as a great shadow. But he moved closer, putting a reassuring finger to his lips.

“Shh,” Julien said. “It’s me. We have to go. Now. Grab what you can.”

“Jules, what—?”

“The meeting,” he said. “Henry of Navarre is out. They’re going after him and his supporters. That means us. Executions start tomorrow. We need to run. Now.”

“What?” I sat up with a shock. “Why?”

“The Catholics want everyone who doesn’t follow the Vatican out, and… Catherine knows about us. The entire coven is going to be tried as heretics.”

I got a good look at him in the dim light of a candle he’d put on my nightstand and saw he was sweating profusely, his doublet half-unbuttoned and his hair a mess. He’d frozen time to give us a chance to get out safely, and it was draining him.

“Where is everyone else?” I asked. “Where’s Father?”

“Waiting. The ones I could save. Four members of the coven were taken in iron chains before the meeting was even over.”

“Who?” I asked, my heart dropping at the thought of four of my brothers or sisters being left to a murderous fate.

“Giselle, Jean-Luc, Marie, and… Carina.”

Carina. I blanched at the name. She and I had started a slow romance over the last few years, both in agreement that we were in no hurry to make anything of it beyond something casual. We had other lovers, each, but I’d spent more nights sharing a bed with her than any other single person in my life.

I could only hope she’d make it out.

I grabbed a small trunk, one I could carry on my own, since I assumed everyone else would have their own belongings with them. I stuffed it full of my most important things and some traveling clothes, then slammed it shut.

“I’m ready.”

Jules nodded and led me out into the hallway, which was as still as earlier, but now, even with time stopped, I could feel the tension and fear all around. People were frozen in the middle of quick strides, and not a single face bore a smile.

At the end of the hallway, I breathed a sigh of relief as I encountered my father and the other three members of our coven, Pierre, Richard, and Ysabel, who I worried about greatly since she was old and wouldn’t be able to move quickly.

“We head to the river,” Father said as we all made haste toward the gates. “Not through the gardens. It would be too obvious. There’s a boat waiting to take us out of the city.”

“To England?” Julien said, his voice strained from the effort of stopping time for so many people for so long.

“No. The harbor, then the New World. It won’t be safe for us on this side of the ocean.”

My heart beat even faster. The New World. I’d heard very little about it, since it had only just received some early colonizers. We’d have to find them when we arrived if we were to have any hope of surviving, and by all accounts, the land was massive.

We reached the gates, and Father waved his hands in an elaborate pattern. The iron began to shift and change, allowing us to pass through without climbing over it. The iron might have been the end of our escape, because if Julien touched it—

“Merde!” my brother cried out, and I spun to find him clutching his hand. Pierre had accidentally bumped into him, and he stumbled into the fence.

He looked at me in terror for less than a second, just long enough for us to both realize his magic wouldn’t work after he touched the iron. His abilities would come back, but when it made contact, it nullified any and all of his power.

The world sounded like it exploded as hundreds of people surrounding the palace with weapons and torches came back to life, shouting for Henry to surrender.

“This way!” Father shouted, turning sharply to the left and finding a pathway down an alley. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me, Jules right at my side. He’d lifted Ysabel and now carried her like a child in his arms. He could have easily gotten past me, even with his burden, but he was staying by my side, unwilling to let me fall behind alone.

It wasn’t a long run, only made longer by having to avoid the crowds who might see our fine clothes and detain us, possibly even turn us over to our enemies.

We rounded a final corner toward the river, and Father emerged first, his imposing, strong figure visible in the lanterns lighting the small docks along the Seine. He stopped, holding out a hand to us, and looked around, checking that the coast was clear.

“Come on!” he shouted finally, and he began to usher us out of the alley, allowing everyone to go before him.

Julien reached for my hand and gave it a small squeeze for reassurance, then took off at full speed so he could help Ysabel and the others onto the boat. He made it there first, but as he set her down, everything went straight to hell.

A shout from upriver caught my attention, and, like a fool, I turned to look. Several palace guards had found us and were closing in, waving their swords. Julien didn’t see, as he was already loading Ysabel onto the boat and getting her settled.

Father was at my ear in an instant. “Lysette, we have to move,” he insisted, grabbing me by the arm and guiding me as fast as he could to the waiting boat. The guards were still far enough away to not have a chance of reaching us before we could board.

We were going to make it.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but as I did, a frighteningly familiar twang! filled the air. The sound of a bowstring. Right before me, Pierre and Richard were pierced, each a perfect shot. They both dropped dead, arrows embedded in their chests.

Iron arrowheads. Deadly to anyone, especially witches. Not even a chance for me to heal them, even if it wasn’t too dangerous for me to stop and do so.

I looked at the guards as I ran, several nocking new arrows to shoot those who remained, and the familiar darkness welled up inside of me.

I could save us all.

I opened my mouth to set it free, but—

“Keep running, Lysette!” Father shouted from behind me, reminding me of who I was.

A White Orchid. A purveyor of light and good. I had no doubt he knew what I’d been about to do, and he’d been determined to give me the chance to stop. He was as strong as Julien and, like my brother, could have easily left me behind. But he was a leader, a true leader to his core, and would never leave behind a single person under his care.

“Julien! Go! We’ll make it!” Father called out.

Julien nodded and barked a command at the captain, who began hoisting the anchor. It was perfect timing, because the second he took the wheel, Father and I tumbled over the railing and onto the boat.

I lay there on the damp, slick wood, panting heavily as I tried to catch my breath while I heard Father get to his feet.

“Faster, if you can,” he said to the captain in his firm but diplomatic tone, the one that would never leave anyone doubting his authority. It asserted his command while never being overbearing or domineering. “We need to—”

His words were cut off by a cry of pain and Julien screaming, “Papa!” His voice was pitched as high as it could go, and the sound was like that of a terrified child rather than my strong, resilient brother, sending my blood running cold.

I rolled onto my back and pushed up onto my hands in time to see my father’s body arched in pain right before he pitched forward, turning as he went. That was when I saw the arrow in his back, right before it broke off as he crashed into the railing of the boat. Julien rushed forward, catching him and pulling him into his lap.

“Lysette!” My brother’s eyes met mine, shining with tears. “He’s alive. But you need to—”

I didn’t need him to tell me. I was already on my knees at his side, running my hands over Father’s face, trying to assess the damage quickly. I pressed my hands to his chest and began the process of pushing aside the dark magic I always fought against to allow the light through, just like he taught me. I could heal the wound easily, but something was wrong, and I knew it immediately.

Little threads of white energy were coming off of him, dissipating into the air like smoke.

His magic.

I had no idea what to do with it, so I refocused on my task. I sent the light into my father with every ounce of magic I had.

But nothing was working. His breathing remained labored, and his face shone with sweat.

“I can’t… My healing, it…”

Father grabbed my hand. “It’s not fatal, Lysette,” he said with a gasp. “But it’s embedded. It’s iron.”

“We need to remove it—”

“It’s too deep. With what we have here, I’ll bleed out faster than you can fix it. The best we can do is get me to the New World and hope someone can provide assistance so you don’t have to try it alone.”

Julien ripped off a piece of his shirt and held it to Father’s wound. Father had a way of sounding sure of anything, even when the situation was as dire as this, but my brother and I shared a worried look. The iron inside him would prevent any and all magic from being used by him or affecting him. He was at the mercy of time and fate, and all we could do was wait.

We made it to the harbor, where we boarded a ship to take us across l'océan atlantique. I spent the first two days taking care of Father, changing his dressings and keeping the wound clean while Julien attended to Ysabel, who seemed disconnected from the reality of our situation, singing and dancing across the deck, day and night, even in the summer ocean rains.

Of our ten person coven, the four of us were all that remained, and it seemed, at first, as if we would all make it.

And then, on day three… Father started to cough.

A rattling, deep sort of cough I heard all too often in the days before we lived at the palace, so I was devastated, but not surprised, when I saw blood trickling from his lips as well.

Consumption. And without magic, there was no way to heal him.

Between his injury and the sickness, he deteriorated quickly. Two days later, amidst a tempest of a storm, his pulse weakened and slowed, and his breathing was labored and wheezing. Julien and I sat by his side below deck, each of us holding his hands, knowing he wouldn’t make it to our destination and not wanting him to be alone. Wanting him to know his children loved him and would be with him until the end.

“Julien,” he rasped, beckoning Jules closer. “My son. You are powerful, but your true power does not lie in your magic or in your lineage. You need to find your strength in who you are, rather than in who you want to appear to be to others. I have watched you strive for approval in all forms your whole life, and it will never make you whole. Only when you can stand on your own against what others expect can you be the leader you were born to be. I believe in you. You will find your way.”

Julien nodded, silent tears streaming down his face. Father’s voice was so weak, it was a wonder he managed at all. I knew he was cutting short the precious few minutes he had left, but he had things left to say, so I didn’t try to stop him.

“And my Lysette,” he said, turning to me. “My child of light. You may not be of my body, but you are of my soul. I have known, since you were a small child, that you would be not only a great witch, but a great person. You know the balance of life, of light and dark, of fun and obligation, of power and responsibility, and you show that without boasting or performing. It’s who you are. You have made me prouder than I ever could have imagined and…” He paused, coughing as violently as he could with what little strength he had left. “And that is why…” A deep, shuddering breath. It was close. I squeezed his hand to let him know I was still here with him. “That is why, as of now, you are the master of the Circle of the White Orchid. Lead it well. I know you will.”

Before I could even recover from the shock of what he said or to remind him that it was supposed to be Julien, not me, he took his final breath and died right before my eyes. The second he did, I felt a wave of something fill me, something new but subtle.

The coven had passed to me.

I stared at him for a long time, unmoving, studying his face and committing it to memory. Julien looked just like him, but a bit younger, since Father was already several hundred years old when we were born. The dark hair, the olive skin, the sharp jaw and angular, expressive brows, soft now, without his soul to shape them.

When I finally pulled my eyes away, I saw Julien looking not at Father, but at me. For the first time in my entire life, he gazed at me with something harsh, like disgust and anger.

“Why did he do that?” I asked my brother, hoping he might be able to help shed light on Father’s final act—taking away Julien’s birthright and giving it to me, and hoping he’d know I had expected this as little as he had.

“You tell me,” he said with a sneer I’d never seen from him.

Something had shifted between us.

I shook my head, nonplussed, my own tears scattering all around with the intensity of the movement. “I don’t… it was supposed to be you.”

“But it wasn’t.” Jules looked away, then released Father’s hand and stood. “I’ll go check on Ysabel.”

Without another glance in my direction, he left me alone with Father’s body to contemplate the role I never asked for and what it would mean for me, for him, and for the future of our now tiny coven.

***

Present Day, Nebraska

Aster slept soundly on the bed as I looked at the few pieces of memory I had with me when the mansion burned down.

When Julien burned it down.

The small drawstring bag was filled with a few francs from my time at court, a locket with portraits of my brother and me as children, and an iron arrowhead I long ago had encased in crystal for safety. I kept the tiny pouch in my purse for years, a talisman of sorts to remind me where I’d come from and how quickly things could change. You might think that would have made me more guarded again, but by the time we docked in Virginia after Father died, Julien seemed to have forgiven me for being the coven master. I offered to give it to him, but he insisted Father knew what he was doing. And by the time Bea came into the picture, he was content having her, even if he didn’t have the White Orchid.

He was so convincing. I never questioned his loyalty, not even when I caught him in that lab with Éiren, experimenting with dark magic. Julien swore he didn’t know what was going on, and I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Because of Father. Because of the last thing he said to Julien. That he could be great if he could get out of his own head about how he was perceived and just did what he believed to be right.

And he failed spectacularly.

Memories of the day we fled the palace flooded my mind as I looked over at Bea, who was once again sleeping fitfully. When he started courting Bea, I teased him relentlessly for pursuing another Beatrice, but he was so sincere about her, saying he was grateful to Beatrix Gaspard for having introduced him to Dante’s work because of how much Bea loved when he said her name in that special way.

And just like with the Lady Gaspard, I had wondered if I should warn her against his advances but, once again, decided it wasn’t my place. Of course, I cursed myself a little more each time he let her down, chipping away at the sweet, timid innocence she came to us with and replacing it with something hard and cold, like her ice. Something that had only begun to melt out here, with me and Aster and no one else, no one to hurt her.

I doubted she would give him the chance again, even if he came to his senses. I doubted I would. He worked with the person I loved to betray me in the deepest way possible.

Perhaps Father was wrong. Maybe I wasn’t fit to lead. Julien certainly wasn’t, as he proved time and again, and once and for all. Maybe… maybe the Circle of the White Orchid should have died with Jacques Chevalier.

Maybe it had.

I started out at dawn to walk the ten miles into town with a wallet filled with cash. Every penny the coven had was pulled from every bank account we could access before we went into hiding, in case of emergencies. My first stop was a big box store. I bought a handful of prepaid phones, a bunch of junk food Aster had never had the chance to try, and some new books to keep her entertained.

By the time I finished there, it was getting late, and the afternoon sun had turned golden. The air temperature dropped, and I walked halfway across the small town and into a roadside used car dealership, choosing a small SUV with low miles that would be comfortable for three of us on a long drive. That was when I saw him.

I first noticed him at the store because he seemed out of place. While most of the residents of the town were prepared to weather the winter in Carhartt coats and snowshoes, he wore suede Chelsea boots and a well-tailored leather jacket, one that left him shivering. I caught myself staring at him just a moment too long, and he seemed startled when he caught my eye. He gave a slight wave, and I turned away, not wanting to be remembered.

But as I sat in the dealership, telling the salesperson—a young woman who seemed ecstatic at such an easy sale—to draw up the papers, the sun glinted off of his shiny blond hair, just enough to draw my attention, and I realized he followed me here.

Just like at the store, he wasn’t looking at me. He seemed fully focused on something on his phone. If I hadn’t already made him at the store, I might have thought he was just out for a casual walk. But after years of tracking down Éiren’s acolytes, I learned enough to know when I was being hunted.

I rushed back, and without even a “hello,” I told Lysette, “We need to change.”

She seemed bewildered, but didn’t question me as she reached for the suitcase, ready to pull out new outfits for us.

“No,” I stopped her, motioning to my face. “This.”

Before I was even born, Lysette and the rest of the Circle of the White Orchid had mastered the art of disguise by magic. They could change their faces, hair, almost anything, little by little until they were unrecognizable—or recognizable, but as someone else.

Lysette sucked in a breath as she realized what I was saying, then pointed to a chair. “Sit. This will take a while if we want to stay anonymous.”

She started with my hair, standing at my shoulder, the fingers of her left hand wrapped in my hair and a pair of scissors in her right. She was trimming my hair into a style more in keeping with modern trends, at least according to the magazine I’d picked up. As she snipped, she also used the magic she learned in her younger years to change the color.

“I hate it,” I whined thirty minutes later, fully aware of how childlike I sounded. Aster giggled, and I grinned at her, pleased my misery could at least bring joy to someone.

“Don’t worry, Bea,” Aster teased. “You still look like you belong in a fairy tale.”

“Aw, thanks, Peachy,” I said, smiling at her and reaching for her hand, which she squeezed.

“Yeah!” she said with a bit too much enthusiasm for me to not know she was up to something. “You can be the ugly stepsister.”

I heard Lysette stifle a laugh behind me and reached out to tickle the clever and precocious child before Lysette’s hand yanked my head back, her voice indulgent but firm. “Nuh uh. Not yet. And hold still. It’s hard to focus with you moving all around. Aster, stop messing with Bea.”

I reached up and tugged the chocolate brown locks forward. It was my idea, but it was the first time in my entire life my hair had deviated from its natural strawberry blond, whether by magic or even just normal, non-magic methods. I turned the handheld mirror side to side, watching Lysette work until she snatched it away, still examining my face and hair to make sure I looked different enough from myself.

“You picked the color,” Lysette reminded me as I continued to pout. “And it’s pretty.”

“Well, thanks,” I laughed dryly. “But I’m less worried about it looking pretty and more about not being found.” I groaned. “Once. I went out once in nearly a decade, and someone recognized me.”

“Maybe,” Lysette said. I could tell from her tone she was as worried as I was. “Either way, let’s finish up. We have a long drive ahead of us, and I’d rather get to bed early and start at dawn than do this all night. Look at me.” I turned my face to her, and she put her finger under my chin, setting the scissors down. She tilted my head side to side, running her fingers lightly over my features. Her hands flew across my skin, making small changes—just enough that no one would recognize me based on any photographs from before.

Several minutes dragged on with Aster watching every movement. She hadn’t asked a single question about why we were doing this, but I could see the wheels turning in her mind. She was old enough to know when we didn’t share things with her voluntarily, we weren’t going to. But that didn’t stop her from putting pieces together on her own.

“There.” Lysette’s voice was weary as she handed me the mirror. Modifying wasn’t as taxing as her other magic, but she’d done a lot today.

I looked at my reflection. Only someone who knew me well might know that I was still me. My nose was lengthened just a touch, and my jawline was more angular. My hair was a rich, dark brown, not too far off from Lysette’s natural color. My freckles were gone. Both my eyebrows and lips were thinner. None of the changes were extreme. She’d done a marvelous job of keeping my appearance natural. There was only one thing she hadn’t touched at all, and it was the one thing I should have asked her to change years ago.

“Change them, too,” I told her quietly, running my finger under my eye.

Lysette hesitated. “You sure? Eyes are harder,” she explained. “They take more to change, and they don’t change back quite as easily. You might never get them back to how they were.”

I took a deep breath, a smile spreading across my face.

“Good.”

***

“Smithsonian Institute,” the cheery voice called from the sound system in the car.

“Hello,” I sang back. “I’m looking for an old colleague to help me with some research. Can you please put me through to Sebastian Mendes?”

“One moment.”

The hold music filled the car, and I glanced in the mirror at my new royal blue eyes—my mother’s eyes—then tilted the angle so I could see the back seat where both my sisters sat. Aster’s face had been glued to the window the entire drive the previous day, having never been in a car before. She slept soundly, though. By the time she woke up, we’d made it to the plains of the Midwest, where all you could see for miles were unassuming fields of corn, and the novelty of looking out the window seemed to have worn off. Her head was tilted to the side, resting on the travel pillow I bought for her as Lysette read softly from one of the new books I picked out. Aster’s posture was relaxed, but her eyes were alight with excitement.

Even though her lack of fear was welcome, in a small way, it broke my heart. She had no idea of the danger we were in. For her, this was an adventure, like something in one of the stories she loved. She had the blissful luxury of not knowing what real-life monsters we were up against.

Aster was the only one who got away without any physical changes, since no one besides us had ever seen her. Lysette had gone with a long, dark ginger bob that waved around her face, making her look more like Aster’s mother than ever.

“Doctor Mendes speaking,” the voice greeted as Sebastian picked up the phone.

“Seb, it’s Bea,” I said, using the nickname we always called him. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I worried for a moment that he’d hung up.

“No shit,” he mused, still there. “It’s been a while. I heard you and Lysette went underground. How is she? How are you?”

I nearly sobbed with relief. Hearing a familiar voice, one that cared, was such an odd and powerful thing after so long without contact with anyone but my sisters. Sebastian had been an unofficial member of the White Orchid when he and Lysette dated shortly after she and Éiren broke up. He and I had gotten really close, playing games out in the garden with our magic, creating electric fireballs using our combined magic. I was devastated when Lysette’s obsession with Éiren led to them splitting and my friend moving out.

Thankfully, he was good natured to his core and never even blamed Lysette. He and I crossed paths a few times afterward when I would go off on my (admittedly) ill-advised “hunting” trips.

“We’re… okay,” I said honestly. We weren’t in immediate peril, but it was hovering on the horizon. “You’re still in DC? We need some help. Discreetly. Can we come?”

“Of course!” I could hear the smile in his voice and pictured it in my mind. “And you of all people should know I can be discreet.”

My eyes shot up to the mirror in time to see Lysette straighten and blink heavily at me. She stopped reading mid-sentence, and Aster started paying attention to the conversation, too.

Shit.

“Ha, yeah,” I said awkwardly. “Lys, why don’t you say hi to Seb?” My words were pointed, letting him know she could hear him.

He drew a sharp breath. “Lysette? Hey!”

I cringed. Sebastian was kind and genuine to a fault, but the delight in his voice was over the top, even for him.

“Hello, Sebastian,” Lysette replied. Her voice was pleasant enough, but I could see her eyes and knew I was in danger.

There was a deafening silence until finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and choked out, “Well, we should be there by late tonight. Any chance you’ll be up, and we can just come right there? We’re trying to be seen in as few places as possible.”

“Of course,” he said, suddenly serious, dropping the faux cordiality. “Do you remember where it is?”

I looked at Lysette again, whose face was forbidding with the knowledge that I’d been to his place.

“No, not really.”

“No worries. Can I text you the address at this number?”

“Yeah, that works. See you tonight.”

“Bye, Bea. Bye, Lysette!” The overly polite voice was back, and I felt my stomach plummet. So much for being discreet.

I hung up the phone and sat in silence for several minutes, stealing glances at Lysette in the rearview mirror. A small part of me hoped Lysette hadn’t read between the lines, but it was a fool’s hope. She was too sharp to miss what he’d all but blurted out.

“Nice to talk to ‘Seb’ again,” she began, veiling her words in front of Aster. “We haven’t seen him since he and I broke up…”

I could lie, but it was easier to go with the truth—or at least a version of it I didn’t mind tiny ears hearing.

“I mean,” I sputtered, “I have. We hung out a few times. When I would… travel.”

“‘Hung out?’” Lysette challenged. “Like how he and I used to ‘hang out?’”

Aster’s brow furrowed as she looked between us, trying to figure out the hidden meaning in our words.

“Not at first.” I was begging her to forgive me. “You know Sebastian and I were always close. I just missed him. It wasn’t until a few years before we… moved… that he and I ‘hung out.’ Julien and I weren’t on speaking terms at the time. We never planned to. We just happened to be in the same place and… we ended up ‘hanging out.’ And only a couple times. We didn’t… It was just a little fun. Nothing serious.”

“Who’s Julien?” Aster asked, and we both balked.

“Just someone we used to know,” Lysette said, still bristling at me, and Aster seemed to take the hint that it wasn’t the time for more questions.

Tears pooled in my eyes, and I looked away in shame. I’d done a lot of shitty things in my life, but sleeping with someone she’d been in love with, even if it didn’t last, was pretty damn high on that list. Especially knowing it happened more than once, and I’d been too much of a coward to tell her.

“I…” Lysette’s voice was as strained as I knew mine would be if I spoke. “I guessed you two were still in touch. I just didn’t know you were that in touch. I’m glad you had someone to ‘hang out’ with—someone else. Even if it was just for fun.”

Not like with Julien, she meant. It was never just for fun between us. Not that I’d ever shown him just how deeply I loved him, not until it was too late. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he snapped.

“Thanks.” I cleared my throat and told Aster, “Between you and me, Peachy, no one on this earth deserves your mom. She’s the best of all of us.”

***

A few hours later, we knocked on the door of the upscale brick townhome in a quiet corner of the city. Sebastian opened the door in seconds, expecting us.

“Hi?” He looked between us, confused. “Can I help you?”

Of course. He didn’t recognize us. Add a child, and he had no idea who was knocking on his door in the middle of the night.

“It’s us,” Lysette told him in a rush, Aster asleep in her arms. She glanced over her shoulder. “Lysette and Bea. We can explain inside. Please, she’s heavy.”

Sebastian took in her expression and the way she spoke and ushered us in. I let Lysette go first, and his eyes lingered on my unfamiliar ones as I walked past, a question there I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer.

Sebastian closed the door behind us and gently pulled Aster from Lysette’s arms so she could relax. He led them to a bedroom on the upper floor while I used the downstairs bathroom, then came back downstairs alone.

“They’re already asleep. There’s a second bed up there for you,” he told me. His eyes moved over my face, concern dotting his features. “But I’m not tired. You don’t owe me anything, but if you wanted to talk…”

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling exposed, and nodded. Sebastian reached a gentle hand toward me and put it under my elbow, leading me to a plush sectional.

I sank down into the corner of it, curling up into a ball, like I could fend off the pain of everything by being smaller. Sebastian took the opposite end, keeping a careful distance between us, respectful in the extreme. I appreciated it, because, while part of me wanted to be held and reassured, I wasn’t sure I was ready for that level of physical contact.

I didn’t say anything for a long time, so he spoke first. “You look different. Not something I often get to say to other witches. Most of us get pretty set in our personal style, changing fads aside.”

“Had to happen,” I shrugged.

“For the same reason you disappeared for nine years?” He glanced toward the stairs, his insightfulness making the conversation go quicker than I expected. “And why do I feel like that miniature replica of Lysette has something to do with it, too?”

“You always were smart,” I smiled weakly. I didn’t even know how to begin to explain everything to him, or even how to decide what I wanted to share.

“I suppose,” he smirked before his face grew serious again. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and turned his head so he could look at me. “You changed your eyes. The girl has your eyes—your old eyes.” He spoke slowly, a question obvious beneath what he’d framed as a statement. I knew what it was.

How could Lysette’s daughter possibly have my eyes when Lysette and I weren’t related by blood?

And just like that, the one thing I never wanted to share was hanging in the air. The one I would have given anything for no one else to know.

“Aster,” I breathed. “Her name is Aster. She’s my sister.”

Sebastian looked confused. “So is Lysette.”

“No,” I shook my head, my throat nearly closed against what I was trying to tell him. “Not coven sister. Actual sister. Éiren Connolly is my father, and he’s hers, too.”

He sat up straight, his eyes wide. “Éiren Connolly? Lysette’s Éiren?” It was strange to hear him referred to as “Lysette’s” when I couldn’t think of Éiren as belonging to anyone. Only someone who didn’t truly know Éiren could think anyone could own him but himself. If anything, we belonged to him—pawns in the games he played and nothing more.

“You know many other Éiren Connollys?” I scoffed. It would take forever to start from the beginning, but Sebastian needed to know the stakes. “You felt the surge, right? Last week?”

“Yeah, we all did,” he admitted. He didn’t belong to a coven like most witches but was part of a group who met casually, more like a club than a family. “We didn’t know what it meant, though.”

There was nothing for it—I’d have to give him the Cliffsnotes version.

“Well, you were there for his ‘research.’ Have you ever heard about the Ring of Hecate?”

He raised an eyebrow at me, an amused look on his face. “Along with about a million other myths. Éiren was interested, but I told him he was better off focusing on reality.”

A slightly hysterical laugh burst through my lips. I almost just agreed with him so as not to shatter his scholarly world view, but mythology had come calling for all of us, and keeping him blissfully in the dark wouldn’t help anything.

“Well, I don’t know about all myths, but I can tell you some of them are very real. The ring is one of them, and so is Hecate.”

He laughed like I was telling a joke, but after a few seconds, he saw my face and realized I was serious. At that point, his eyes went wide, and he sat back with the same gravity I’d felt when I realized the monsters under my bed were real, too.

“And…” I said, drawing his eyes back to mine, now with a hint of worry about what illusion I was going to shatter next for him. “Hecate is my ancestor.”

His jaw dropped in a way that would have been comical if the entire situation wasn’t so dire.

“You’re joking.”

“I wish,” I said with a dry laugh. “We tried to find the ring first, and I did, thanks to that blood connection I have to the fucking Goddess, herself. But Éiren was a step ahead of us the whole time. Julien turned on us, Éiren took the ring, and he slit my throat to try to kill me as a sacrifice to activate it.”

Sebastian moved closer, asking permission to comfort me by way of holding up his arm. I paused, but then nodded, and he wrapped it around me, pulling me close.

“You don’t have to keep going,” he said quietly.

“I think I do at this point, because if I don’t, I’m never going to get it out.” I leaned my head against him, letting his warmth surround me and give me strength.

Like Julien used to do for me.

Pushing down the latent feelings for that traitor which never fully went away, no matter how hard I tried, I continued. “Éiren had been spying on Lysette for years, and we didn’t know. I’d bet Julien helped, but I don’t know for sure. Éiren used what he found out to manipulate her into thinking he wasn’t seeking the ring for his own power, convinced her to marry him again, and then showed his true colors. It wasn’t until we were on the run for four months that we realized she was pregnant.” Sebastian squeezed my shoulder, reassuring me. “Whatever he did with the ring, that was what you felt. But whatever it was, it wasn’t the full power of Hecate. You’d feel that and know.”

“Universal coven master,” Sebastian said, likely remembering what he’d thought were only legends.

“Yep. And that’s why we need help. He’s after us. After Aster.” I shivered. “The theory is that her blood can do it—the blood of the bearer, meaning someone related. Then he’d basically be coven leader for every witch on the planet, and trust me, you don’t want to have to answer to him.” My hand went to my throat, to the place where Lysette had made my scar disappear.

He ran a finger over it gently before pulling me into a tight, comforting embrace. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone hold me, to feel another person’s skin against mine.

I wasn’t even sure how it happened, but the next thing I knew, Sebastian was on top of me, our lips tangled together. My legs were around his waist, and his hand crept up under the edge of my sweater.

“Fuck, I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t ruin it with feelings, Seb,” I laughed, the relief of sharing my story and having an ally having lifted a huge weight off me. “That’s not what we’re about, remember?” I wasn’t being cruel. This was how we always were, teasing each other and joking the whole time, knowing any affection between us didn’t go beyond friendship.

Well, friendship and this.

But it had been so long since anyone touched me like this outside of my dreams that I almost wanted to close my eyes and pretend it wasn’t just a comfort fuck. To pretend it was meaningful and loving, and that I was with—

“Julien’s an idiot,” Sebastian whispered against the soft spot behind my ear, planting little kisses between the words.

I tensed at the name but brushed it off. “And what makes you think I care?” I bit Sebastian’s lip. “I’m here. He’s not.”

“No, he isn’t,” he drawled, reaching for the button on my jeans. “He’s at the Black Rose mansion, being a good little stay at home dad.”

Dad.

“What?” My whole body froze, and this time, I couldn’t ignore the chill that came over me. I scrambled out from underneath Sebastian and jumped to my feet. “What did you just say?”

He looked bewildered. “I thought you knew. Everyone did. He’s been raising a kid with Siobhan in the Black Rose mansion.”

I don’t know how I made it to the bathroom before I started vomiting. The rancid bile mixed with salt from the tears flowing as freely as blood. Sebastian’s hand was at my back, but I shoved him away.

“Get Lysette,” I sobbed before retching again. “Please. I need her… I need her… I need Lysette.”

The noise that came out of me then was enough to wake the dead and saved him the task of fetching her. I heard her footsteps on the stairs, and only seconds later, her arms were around me. I vaguely heard Sebastian explaining what happened—careful to leave out what we’d been doing. Lysette went so still I wasn’t sure she was even breathing. With slow and deliberate motions, she gathered my hair back, stroking it and whispering comforting nonsense into my ear.

It didn’t matter. I gave up on Julien a long time ago, but this…

We talked about having children so many times. After we got married, we agreed. But then I never followed through, always waiting for things to feel right between us like they did in the beginning. And for him to choose Siobhan to share that with, of all people, hurt more than anything.

Lysette got me into bed, and I heard her and Sebastian continuing to talk outside my door, but I tuned them out, choosing instead to sink into oblivion and praying to Hecate, herself, that I wouldn’t dream of Julien.

And I didn’t.

I was lying in a hospital bed surrounded by orchids, watching Ysabel, the White Orchid’s resident psychic, play in the dirt of one of the plants.

I knew this dream. I’d had it plenty of times. It was a memory of the moment we were sent on our quest for the ring, a quest that would end in the death of the woman in front of me.

Her murder, by Julien.

But then, the memory shifted. Changed. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around my wrist, startling me. Her grip was too tight, and her deep brown eyes, wise despite their insanity, bored into mine as she gave me a prophecy I’d never heard before.

“To have everything you want, to achieve what you need, you must sacrifice all you have.”

My eyes were open as I lay in bed next to Aster—wide and calculating. The news of Julien’s child rocked Bea in a way I would have never believed, and I ached for her, wanting this to all be over and to wipe her mind clean of his traitorous face.

In truth, I was surprised and annoyed—but happy—when she mentioned she and Seb had connected in a more intimate way. Despite him being my ex, my love for him was never enough to fill the hole Éiren left behind. We parted ways amicably, with me only wanting the best for him, and I was thankful he had invited us with zero resistance and even fewer questions. He was truly good to his core.

On the other hand, there was Julien. His betrayal of me and the coven was bad enough, but knowing how quickly he’d forgotten about Bea—about the centuries he swore to me he was still just working on getting it right, but he loved her to the depths of his soul—all I could do was think of a million ways to make my brother pay for the complete and utter destruction of Beatrice Lightvale. For this pain and every other bit of it he’d brought to her over the years.

Little bits of my magic, the dark magic that always fought to be released, wafted from my fingertips as I tried to hold it back, knowing my target wasn’t here, but my daughter was. Years ago, I’d realized Aster was immune, and even stranger, her body had a tendency to mimic my magic pulses in her sleep, which meant I had to keep them under control. But there was something else there, too, something not too far below the surface. The magic that kept me tucked against her night after night. The magic that kept me on edge, to this day, at any ache in my shoulders or wrists.

His magic.

Aster turned in my arms, and I found myself looking into her beautiful face. I liked it best when she was sleeping, as horrible as it sounded, because it was the one respite I got from looking into those silvery eyes. I could take in all the parts of her that were me without having him stare back at me.

I took a deep breath, held it, and sent the text I’d been sitting on all day. As soon as I got the reply, I pried myself free, getting to my feet and pulling on a pair of leather boots. As a final touch, I tucked one of Bea’s knives into a hidden pocket on the outside of my thigh. I pulled the navy blue hood of my jacket over my hair and face and slipped out the door with a last look at Bea and Aster, feeling as though I was staring at the last good parts of myself.

It took me an hour and thirty minutes to find my way through the suburb on foot to the part of town he told me to meet him: Harken, an information broker and well-known psychic living on the outskirts of D.C. A fake name if I’d ever heard one, but the one he was known by, nonetheless. He was only about one-sixteenth magic, but retained that one single ability. Not really belonging among other witches, he rejected a coven, much like Sebastian. But unlike Seb, Harken made no alliances either, serving good and evil equally.

I entered the dimly lit bar, hosting only a handful of patrons, which smelled of stale beer and cigarette smoke. It spoke to how little the place had been cleaned that years after smoking was banned indoors, the odor still lingered.

“Get ya a shot, sexy?” slurred a drunken man near the door, who stumbled close to me.

I looked at him in disgust and wondered why Harken would choose this dive of all places to meet. “No.” I turned my back on the man, who began to mumble a long string of slurs and obscenities, vilifying me for my rejection.

Despite how long I’d managed to keep the dark magic inside of me at bay, not even considering using it after I saw what Éiren did to Bea in its pursuit, I almost let this vile person have a small taste, just for the relief of letting some of it free.

Éiren certainly would have.

But I refused to be like him, so I just ignored the drunkard and moved to the back corner of the bar, where an older-looking man sat beneath a dusty, brown, seventies-style stained-glass lamp, nursing some dark cocktail in a greasy, filthy-looking glass. He was thin and wiry, nearly as short as me, but he exuded an air of someone not to be fucked with, despite his stature.

I shuddered as he lifted the drink to his lips. Even in the last nine years, away from society, I had a certain standard of living I’d grown accustomed to. Getting my hands dirty to feed my family was one thing, but after centuries of having luxury belongings and enjoying the finest establishments, the idea of even touching anything in this bar made my skin crawl.

“And who might you be?” he asked as I sat down across from him, gingerly avoiding a sticky spot on the chair.

“Violet,” I said, using the pseudonym I’d given him, one I kept in my back pocket for emergencies and clandestine encounters, like this. One even Éiren didn’t know.

“Ah, yes,” Harken said, raising an eyebrow at me. “You said you needed information?”

“Yes. I’m looking for information about the House of the Black Rose. Specifically Julien Chevalier.”

He paused with his drink halfway to his lips, studying me. I felt a small flutter of magic in the air and knew he was probing me. Thankfully, his power was negligible next to mine, and after half a millennium of fending off Ysabel’s psychic abilities, I was able to keep him out.

“Something to hide, dearie?” he taunted, smacking his lips.

“No more than anyone else,” I countered before redirecting the conversation back to my reason for being here. “Word has it that he’s raising a child. I want to know more. The mother. Is it Siobhan? How old is the child?”

“Why do you care?” Harken asked, leaning forward to watch my expression. “Is he a former lover? Or perhaps a current lover who you think lied about his ties to another?”

“I’m an interested party.” I pulled away, trying to look casual about it while keeping distance between me and the flow of sour breath he sent my way. “That’s all you need to know.”

“I deal in information,” he said, leaning back in his chair with the air of someone in a position of great power, which I suppose he was at the moment, despite where we were. “If you don’t have something to offer me in return—”

“How about this?” I said, pulling out a stack of cash wrapped in currency straps indicating the amount. “Fifty grand. All yours, if the information is good.”

His eyes went wide just long enough for me to see that I had his attention. It might not be what he preferred, but he certainly wasn’t arguing against it. “Seems fair enough. After all, the information I have isn’t exactly the best kept of secrets.”

My heart fluttered at the prospect of knowing exactly how deep my brother’s treachery against my sister—the one he and I had once both sworn to protect—ran. “Tell me.”

Harken stroked his poorly groomed gray beard slowly, milking every moment. The bartender shouted, “Last call!” and I glared at the man holding out on me.

“Buy me another drink before they close, and the information is yours.”

After he managed to wheedle out of speaking for another half hour while he finished his last drink, we exited the bar together, and he took me to a secluded courtyard nearby, surrounded by the backs of a handful of apartment buildings. No windows to be watched from, and only a single point of entry, to keep it private. A single lantern lit the area, and it was like we were standing in a spotlight. Even though we were alone, I felt exposed and even more desperate to get the information quickly and go back to Sebastian’s.

“To answer your first question,” Harken said, pacing in a slow circle around me, his eyes looking me up and down hungrily, like a predator. “Yes. Julien Chevalier, formerly of the Circle of the White Orchid and now lapdog to Éiren Connolly and the House of the Black Rose, is, indeed, raising a child.”

I felt sick. Sebastian was right.

“Your second question,” he continued, “was about the mother. Yes. Siobhan Cooke is the girl’s mother.”

I was disgusted. Jules had a daughter. With Siobhan. I couldn’t possibly hope to count all the times Bea and I had talked about our future daughters being as close as we were as they grew up. Now she and I had a little girl we were raising together, the man who’d sired Aster excluded from her life, and the man Bea had pledged her own life to had found someone else to share that with. It felt like someone was slowly pressing one of my sister’s knives into my throat.

“How old?” I asked in a weaker voice than intended. I needed to know how quickly he’d forgotten Bea, so she could be prepared when we finally faced them, rather than blindsided again.

Harken paused in his steps, then gave me a veiled smile. “Eight.”

Eight. The same age as Aster. That meant Siobhan had gotten pregnant as soon as Julien defected. Maybe even before, when they were planning the downfall of the White Orchid.

“Thank you,” I said, reaching again for the stack of cash to give it to him, but before I could, Harken’s fingers closed on my wrist. I felt the probe again, only this time, with physical contact to aid him, he was successful.

“No, thank you, Lysette Connolly,” he said, looking at me like I was dinner.

“Chevalier,” I sneered, pulling my hand from his grasp. There was no point in denying who I was. He knew, having seen inside my mind. But I refused to allow him to call me by that name. To let anyone call me by it.

“Semantics,” he said, brushing it off with bravado that made my dark magic churn inside of me, itching to be unleashed. “I like the hair. They do say couples look alike after a while. Most don’t take centuries together and decades apart to do it, though. You’re worth a lot of money, my dear. A lot more than you’re offering.”

“And how do you expect to deliver me?” I allowed just a bit of the poisonous smoke to spill from between my lips, La Dame de Mortes Vivants, the Lady of Living Death, right before his eyes. “If you know who I am, you know what I can do. Do you want to test your resilience against something that has taken down far more powerful beings than yourself? Safer to just take the money.”

He stepped back, putting a hand to his chin as though contemplating his options. He wasn’t scared, but he was cunning and greedy. “And what if I told you there was more?”

“More?” I echoed.

“Yes. I still have one piece of information about the subject. If you make it worth my while, perhaps I won’t place a call to the hotline your husband set up, looking for information about his runaway bride and child. I’m certain he wouldn’t be as honorable as you, anyway. From what I understand, good and bad news meet the same end from him.”

I hated that he was right. That the man who’d held me to sleep for centuries, who’d made me feel invincible and safe and loved, turned out to be so violent and cruel.

“Double, then,” I agreed, pulling out a second stack of bills I brought in case he wanted to haggle. “A hundred thousand, nonconsecutive, legal and on the up and up.”

He held out his hand, and, despite the lack of trust I felt for him, I handed it to him to count. He took his time, going over it three times, before finally stuffing it into his pocket.

“Very well,” he said with an eerie leer at me. “But I don’t think you’ll enjoy what I have to tell you, especially with your own daughter asleep only a few miles from here.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, wondering what Aster could possibly have to do with Julien’s child. “What is it?”

His grin widened, and he turned his back to me, ready to walk away, clearly thinking he would have the last word as he said over his shoulder, “Monsieur Chevalier may be raising the child… but it isn’t his.”

“What?”

Last word or no, he was inclined to gloat. Harken turned to face me once more, his eyes telling me the news I’d just received, that my brother wasn’t actually that stupid, was no reprieve at all. That’s when I felt it. The realization that I already knew what he was about to tell me, and like standing in the eye of a storm, my world froze around me. I knew what he was saying, but my heart refused to believe it and be broken again.

I reached for my thigh and slowly pulled forth the knife I borrowed from Bea’s belongings, the blade of it glinting in the dim light. For the first time, a flicker of fear crossed his eyes, but I didn’t care. He was playing with his food, but his food was ready to fight back.

“Whose child is it?” I demanded in a low hiss, hoping beyond hope he’d say something, anything other than what I knew he was going to tell me. I lunged forward, placing a thick, angry slice across his cheek. “Whose child, Harken?” My hand that wasn’t holding the knife balled into a fist, and I shoved it forward to connect with his stomach, causing him to crumple forward. I then raised my foot to place the sole of my boot against his heaving chest and kicked him backward to the ground.

He squealed in fear as shoots of thick black creeped across my hands like bolts of lightning, tendrils of my poison snaking out toward him.

“Please,” he begged, holding up his hands in surrender. “You can keep the money. I won’t—”

“Tell me,” I snarled in an eerily unfamiliar voice as I watched him piss himself.

“Your husband,” he sobbed. “Éiren Connolly is the father.”

Éiren.

Éiren Connolly.

My Éiren.

The man I’d pledged not only my life to, but my humanity. A man who spent decades, centuries even, begging me for a child I refused to give him for no other reason than I was never ready, not that it mattered in the end.

It wasn’t enough that Éiren had violated me, had tricked me into having his child, at last. He’d turned around and had another, with fucking Siobhan. The hard shell I built inside myself against him cracked along with my heart. I wasn’t sure which betrayal ran deeper—that he’d manipulated and deceived me, or that all of his promises of how much he loved me, how she meant nothing to him, were lies like everything else.

Every ounce of control my father had trained into me vanished. A thick rope of poison, my morte, left my fingers, diving down Harken’s throat, making him gasp and choke, his eyes rolling in agony. I lunged forward, driving Bea’s knife deep in his gut, feeling the tip hit bone, and releasing it.

A scream rippled across my lips and out into the night sky as I formed my death magic into hundreds of tiny blades, then released them with force at Harken’s heaving body. Broken and twisted, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to stop the hurt Éiren would always be able to send my way.

Each one embedded itself like a parasite, driving into the skin and spreading like ink in water across his flesh. The impact of each poisonous barb sounded akin to fists pounding into a pile of hamburger, and by the time the last poison blade penetrated its target, Harken, himself, was barely better than minced meat. Just a pile of gore and viscera, illuminated in the single streetlight overhead. Even the money I’d given him had been obliterated into nothing, tiny shreds of it blowing away in the wind.

My mind was all over the place with this knowledge, pleased that Bea would be restored. And yet, the emotional rift within me doubled at the information, then quadrupled with shame at what I’d done. They say not to kill the messenger, but that would have been a kindness compared to the violence I’d brought this man, repulsive as he was. I felt like my very bones were displaced and ill-fitting beneath my skin, and I longed to tear them free.

The sound of sirens filled the air, moving swiftly in my direction. Even if we weren’t seen, there was no way his screams hadn’t been heard by someone nearby, and now, the police were coming for me. A cold-blooded murderer. I backed slowly away from the bloody mess before me, then turned quickly and began to run. Run like my life depended on it, because now it did.

My heart pounded with such intensity that I wondered if it was about to go into cardiac arrest, and the only thing that kept echoing in my mind was how this was exactly the kind of thing he would have done. Torturing and killing someone simply because they dared to present to him something he couldn't bear.

With each slap of my feet on the pavement, a vision of the face I would never forget became clearer. Beautiful, pale, sharp, ready to burn down the world if it meant he got what he wanted—and he always did. He was winning, even now. I had become exactly what he intended me to be, what he spent so long pushing for, and there was nowhere for me to hide from this stark truth burning through me like lava.

My father’s final words to me echoed in my mind. “My child of light…”

The shame at yet another of his children having proven that his trust in us was wrong rose in my throat like bile. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I went, dripping off my nose and chin, and I was too consumed with him, with Éiren, to even bother wiping them away. I stumbled briefly over some loose gravel and hurtled toward the cement, the impact ripping through my jeans and into my knees, but I barely took time to register it. I had to get back to Bea and Aster, the two people who kept me good. Who kept me from becoming this monster I loathed.

Éiren had another daughter.

That changed nothing.

Aster was my concern, not that vile demon who helped create her, and not the demon within me. A demon I now swore to myself I would go as far as dying to get rid of.

I rounded the last corner to Sebastian’s house and jogged up the creaking, blue wooden steps, pulling the door open and taking a deep breath before I stepped inside, closing the door silently behind me.

It was surreal how everything was the same as a few hours ago, and yet it all felt different. Because I was different.

But was I?

No matter what I tried to convince myself of, there was no denying that this darkness had always been a part of me. I’d just become an expert at hiding it, even from myself.

I went to the sink in the downstairs bathroom and washed the blood off my hands, wholly unsure of what to do about the blood on my clothes. Then, I ascended the stairs and ducked into the bedroom Bea and Aster were sleeping in.

I tiptoed across the room to the bed Bea was in and crouched next to her ear, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and tapping her lightly.

“Beatrice,” I whispered.

She startled awake, eyes still red from crying herself to sleep, but they widened when they took in my gruesome appearance. Without so much as a pause, she leaped from the bed, dragging me away from Aster and into the soft light of the hall. Her hands went to my face, then started to touch my clothes, looking for wounds that weren’t there.

“Lysette, what the fuck? Are you okay? What happened?” Her voice was raw and gravelly from all the vomiting and screaming.

“It’s not his,” I said with urgency, the panic making me steadfast in my singular mission. “It’s not Julien’s child.” Tears continued to cascade down my face, and my stomach ached for the knots it had tied itself into.

Bea blinked hard, leaning back in shock and confusion.

“What? Lys, I didn’t ask about—” My words seemed to find purchase, and she looked me up and down, her next words filled with horror. “What happened?”

How was I supposed to tell her I murdered someone for absolutely no reason at all? That I was as bad as the man we’d sworn to stop? How was I supposed to be worthy of either of them after this?

“I found a seer. The child isn’t Julien’s. He wouldn’t—he never—you know he would never do that to you.”

But clearly, Éiren would do it to me.

Bea’s hands tightened on my arms, then she pulled me into a hug, crushing me against her with no care for the gore she was getting on herself.

“Fuck Julien and what he would or wouldn’t do to me,” she growled in my ear. “He’s made his choices, whether those include knocking up Siobhan or not. I’m worried about you.”

I felt like I was falling a thousand feet, and there was no bottom as I collapsed against her. “I killed him, Bea. He told me, and I couldn’t take it. My poison… I just… let go.”

I promised her I would never become this again, yet here I was. I clung to her sweatshirt to keep myself from going all the way to the floor and waited for her to back away in horror. To reject me by association with him.

Instead, she held more tightly to me, letting us both sink down, so I was cradled in her lap like a child as she stroked my hair and kissed my cheeks.

“It’s going to be okay,” she murmured over and over. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

A coldness transcended me that felt like fingers reaching up from the grave, and I wondered, for a moment, if it was Bea’s magic, despite it being impossible. But I quickly realized the sweat and tears had cooled me, and it was only now that I felt safe again that I was realizing it. I shivered and hugged her tighter.

“I didn’t mean to do it, Bea. I just wanted to know why Julien would be so stupid. And I was so happy it wasn’t his, even though it was Siobhan’s. But then—” I felt my words catch in my throat at the prospect of revealing the truth, almost as if the perpetrator himself stood at my back.

Bea’s comforting touch paused as her own thoughts seemed to catch up with what I was saying. If Julien was raising a child that wasn’t his but was Siobhan’s, it wasn’t too difficult to figure out the rest. She wrapped her arms around me with even more strength than before.

“It’s going to be okay,” she repeated. “You slipped up, but you’re strong. You’ll be okay. You have to be—we both do.” She looked directly into my eyes and said, “Aster needs us to be.”

I nodded at her words and didn’t bother to tell her there would never be a moment in my life when this dark seed wouldn’t exist. Never a moment when I wouldn’t be subconsciously aware that I had done this. That it felt good.

And that part of me longed for more bloodshed.

“This was what he wanted, Bea. He wanted me to be like him, and now I am. How can I look that little girl in the face ever again?” I looked up at Bea and realized that changing her eyes didn’t keep them from being his, too. That intensity, that fire, was something she could have only gotten from him.

“This,” she said, taking my face in her hands and wiping my tears away. “This is why you can. Because you did something terrible, and it hurts. You feel that pain, and now it’s part of you. Do you think he ever, a day in his life, felt bad for the pain he’s caused? You’re nothing like him and never will be. Trust me. Do you think I don’t feel every single life I’ve taken every single day? I do. This is what makes us different.”

I crumbled in her arms and broke down into a sob, feeling the weight I’d been unknowingly carrying for the past ten—no, forty—years colliding into me. There was so much I tried to deny, knowing that owning the truth meant I was compliant. Knowing that, if I was honest with myself, it was my fault as much as his that Aster existed. Because while he may have set the stage, I walked into it and played my role with enthusiasm.

I heard Aster stirring and quickly wiped my nose and face, not wanting to make her afraid. But I had a moment of panic as I realized my clothes were still bloody, and it wouldn’t matter if I was crying if she found me like this.

“What do I do?” I said fearfully to Bea, indicating to the mess. She looked us both up and down, then her face changed, a calculating look emerging beneath the warmth she still exuded.

“Go to the bathroom. Get in the shower, clothes and all. Shout for a towel when you’re done. I’ll keep Aster happy and out of the way until you’re ready.” She pulled off the sweatshirt of her own that was stained with Harken’s blood, revealing a tank top underneath, and threw it to me. “Take that, too. We’ll get rid of it later.” She put a hand on my shoulder, avoiding spreading the blood around any further, then went into the bedroom to climb into bed with my daughter. “Shh, Peachy… It’s okay. I’m here. Momma’s just getting a shower.”

I stood and slowly trudged to the bathroom, knowing I would never be able to get the water hot enough to wash away my shame. Knowing that when morning broke, I would still have done what I did.

I let the demon win. And I would have to eliminate the darkness, both in myself and from those who wanted to set it free, if I ever wanted to see the light again.

The water in my tub was already cold when the clock struck five PM, indicating I’d been sitting here for nearly two hours. It was one of the few places in my house where I was typically left alone. I prayed to any god but the one who consumed my every waking moment that when Lysette finally came back, I could stop pretending to shit so many times a day just to have a bit of quiet.

What a waste of the power you were so generously given…

Siobhan was downstairs making dinner, which, as always, would be a whole family affair. I had made a deliberate decision not to add any new members until my wife returned, so at present, the House of the Black Rose consisted of just nine members, and only four of us lived at the house.

Myself, Siobhan, Jules…

And her.

I wrenched myself free from the water, feeling my skin prickle up at the cold air, and carefully stepped out. Walking to the full-length mirror without a care for the water trailing behind me, I grabbed my towel from the heated rack, and when I was finally standing, fully exposed to myself, I couldn’t help but notice I looked ten years older—by non-magic standards, anyway. I raised my hand and dragged my thumb under each of my eyes, a trick Lysette once taught me to cover the evidence of our sleepless nights together.

The raw power I now had coursing through me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I thought I knew what power was until just a few days ago. My magic, already formidable in its own right, had now grown until it was like the difference between the strongest man alive and a toddler.

I hadn’t slept since, the need for such things all but gone, though the emotional fatigue of searching for my wife for so long was unaffected by the physical improvements, and I was already wondering if it was worth it. The power, though intoxicating and consuming, came with… caveats. Not only did this heightened ability already seem to be fading faster than ever before, but Hecate, whose voice had been a plague on my mind for years, since the first time I used the ring, was now a constant stream of ridicule, taunting, and demanding I give her whatever she required. Namely, her desired “vessel.”

Lysette, who I was still desperate to find, but Hecate’s disposition in that regard was like a shark smelling blood, and a small part of me—a part I still wasn’t entirely ready to listen to—worried what her true end goal was. After all, I would have been an idiot to blindly trust the intentions of a chaos god.

My eyes dropped to my freckle-smattered torso and shoulders, then to my biceps, which had always been deceptively strong, but were even slimmer than in the past with my lack of eating and sleeping. I raised a hand to my chest and ran my fingers down my body, dropping my towel as my eyes caught sight of my semi-hard cock, then rubbed across my lower belly, the way Dáire used to when he was teasing me. I never told anyone else how much I liked that, not even Lysette. But when I was alone…

My cock stiffened further as I allowed my fingers to brush the hair just below, and I took a step back to look my ideal bedmate in the eyes.

Narcissistic? Perhaps. But he knew what I really wanted. With myself, I’d never have to hide or hold back.

I ran my fingertips down my length slowly, feeling a shiver grip me that started in my lower spine and travelled to my tip. My pulse thrummed as I breathed in and exhaled, taking the beautiful and impressive appendage in my hands.

A moan rumbled in my throat, and my cock jumped. I took a few more steps back and sat on the edge of the tub, stroking slowly, pressing the areas I liked prodded the best. I reached down with my left hand and gripped the porcelain while I positioned my right in a circle around the fattest part of my sex. In a steady, practiced motion, I thrust upward into my hand, holding my breath as I did.

Fuck, I felt good. He felt good. The one I didn’t hide from.

But I needed more.

I stumbled to my trousers from earlier, pulling the belt from its loops and fastening it around my neck tightly. Then, I rummaged through the towels beneath my vanity to find the object I stuck there a few days ago. I wanted to feel filled the way I once had with Dáire.

I returned to the tub, repositioning myself to accommodate the new devices of pleasure I’d fetched and got to work.

A guttural, feral groan escaped me as I lowered myself to the tub once more, Dáire moving with me in my mind as I took it inch by inch. I gripped the belt tightly in my left hand, my neck already reddening from the tension there, and pulled even harder, constricting my airway in a way I’d never been able to with my own magic.

I’d tried.

I gripped my cock once more, and pleasure took me as though I was having a multidimensional experience with myself.

Dáire.

Me.

Dáire.

Dáire…

Lysette.

She’d never minded my proclivities, having also enjoyed the delights of both sexes, and we often shared bedmates. Even Jules and I had frequently partaken of each other’s bodies since he joined the Black Roses, and a few times before that. But I often fantasized a reality where my Rosie and my Dáire could have shared me together. And right now was about as close as I could imagine I’d get.

The clock caught my eye once more, and I realized I was already late for dinner.

“Fuck.”

I returned to my ministrations, feeling a build sparking in my depths, and applied more pressure to everything. Stroking harder, riding faster, pulling tighter. And then—

The bathroom door opened suddenly, and Siobhan walked in, a slight scowl on her face.

“Dinner’s getting cold—” she started, but then paused as her eyes took in the scene before her and crossed her arms with a contemptuous scoff. “Well, I’m glad to see it was for something important.”

“Fuck…” I said again.

“Hardly. It’s been three weeks,” she complained, crossing her arms and letting the light glint off the ostentatious ring I’d misguidedly put on her finger eight years ago, along with a host of promises I never intended to keep about marrying her, to keep her happy.

“Angel. We have eternity together,” I wheezed as I removed the belt from my neck, my unthinkably hard cock turning into Playdough. “You know I’ve been… thoughtful.”

“Your thoughts are always in the same fucking place. And she’s not here,” Siobhan spat at me. “There was a time when this scene would be played out with me and Julien instead of a belt, your hand, and a piece of plastic.”

“Silicone, but that’s not the point.” I stood, pulling away from any fantasies of Dáire until I had time alone again. “I’m sorry, okay? What happened to the beautiful brown-haired girl who would have done anything just to be near me?” I went to her and took her into my arms, not in affection—at least not for me—but rather to keep her believing this whole thing would clear over, and she’d eventually have what she wanted.

Me. All to herself.

And what will happen to her if you do achieve your ends? Do you think she’ll remain loyal to you? Better to just kill her now, and then we can be together as fate demands.

Siobhan stiffened, taking a deep breath, then leaned into me with a sigh. “I’m still here. And still waiting for you to treat me like I’m truly yours. Maybe it’s time to stop obsessing about the past and what’s lost and focus instead on the future—our future. The one I’ve been trying to give you since the day you found me.”

I placed an insincere kiss on her head and hugged her tightly. “Shall I get dressed or come down like this?”

She snorted a slight laugh, then looked up at me with playful reproach, placated enough to not question my sidestep. “That’s up to you, but I doubt Róisín will appreciate you being both late and naked—delightful as Julien and I may find it. You know she hates it when you keep her waiting.” She turned and left the bathroom, and I heard her shuffling through my closet, likely pulling out a pair of joggers and a t-shirt for me.

“This isn’t all because I said I didn’t want another, is it?” I asked, raising my voice so she could hear me.

“I already told you,” she said, poking her head through the door and tossing me my clean clothes. “I’ll revisit that argument once I have a second ring. And now that you’ve gotten one of the things you’ve wanted…”

I shot her a look demanding she leave it at that, and she got the message, leaving me to get dressed and waiting in the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, we were descending the stairs hand in hand, and I found a small, very grumpy looking face staring up at me.

“I’m hungry,” she said firmly, in a way no one else below this roof would have dared.

I went to her, kneeling beside her to bring me to eye level, and kissed my daughter on her cheeks, pinking with childish rage. “My apologies, Princess,” I crooned. “Papa was taking a bath, and it was very inconsiderate of me to keep you waiting.”

She seethed for a few more seconds, but then a hand fell on her shoulder from behind.

“Papa’s here now,” Julien said gently, kissing her head. “I think we can forgive him and all have some dinner, right?”

She looked up at him, then back at me before giving a little nod. Her arms flew around my neck in a tight hug before she released me and rushed to the dining room.

Jules watched her go, then stood upright, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped as they always seemed to be these days. Also, as was the norm lately, he didn’t meet my eyes, the little coward.

“Shall we?” he mumbled in that insufferable sullen tone before following Róisín.

“Are you ever not going to be a miserable bastard?” I asked, his “dog cowering in a corner” act pricking at the last of my nerves. “You used to be fun, you know.”

He barely glanced over his shoulder, pausing as he walked. “So did a lot of things.” He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing through the doorway.

I looked over at Siobhan, who shrugged, then followed him to dinner, all but forcing me to follow.

“So, Princess.” I sat down in my seat at the head of the table, making eye contact with the side of Jules’s head rather than his eyes. “I heard Uncle Julien took you to the zoo yesterday.”

With more important things than day trips with a child to attend to, it had always been up to Julien or Siobhan to take care of entertaining her. They used to all go together, but since Jules had fallen into his sullenness, he refused to indulge anyone but Róisín, almost as if he thought she was his own daughter.

Of course, I had ways of getting him to… submit.

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun,” Róisín said, taking a bite of her potatoes.

“Did he tell you he and I used to go to the zoo together all the time?”

“Really?” she asked from her seat beside him, looking up at him in quiet wonder, then back to me. “He didn’t tell me. What’s your favorite animal, Papa? Mine are the jaguars.”

“Are they now?” I mused, still thinking about Dáire’s eyes. “Very deadly, jaguars. Better be careful one doesn’t creep into your room at night and bite you.” I surprised her by using my fingers to clamp down on her ribs, then tickled her to hear that musical little giggle of hers, something she inherited from me.

“They can’t open doors, Papa,” she said with a delighted eye roll. “They climb trees. And you didn’t tell me your favorite yet.”

“My favorite…” I reached across the table and took Siobhan’s hand, “are the snakes. Also very deadly, and very good at hiding, you know.” I looked up at my faux fiancee and mouthed “Mo Nathair,” watching her blush.

“Mine, too,” she said, squeezing my hand. I had thought proposing to her would get her off my back, but if anything, it increased her clinginess to the point of me spending as little time with her as I could while still having our daughter believe we were all a happy family. It wouldn’t be any advantage to me to have a distressed backup vessel—in case I never found…

Found the one you truly wish me to take? Your supposed soulmate, who will bend to my power and provide the body for me to have you as I was always meant to.

It had almost happened, or so I thought. Just days ago, after years of preparation, I’d unlocked a new level of Hecate’s power. Five years of drawing and saving small amounts of Róisín’s blood, under the guise of healthcare, had given me enough of it to equal a full body’s worth of blood. I’d hoped it would be enough of a sacrifice to finally have all of it, but I was wrong. Hecate had taunted me, and it was only then that I realized the power came with a price.

It had to be the vessel, themself, whose blood was given in order to unlock the full power of the ring. Relatives would work to a small extent and for a short time, but the full power needed the bearer to sacrifice their own blood. Only then could Lysette claim that unlimited well of magic. I couldn’t do it for her.

“Jules,” I raised my voice, changing the topic. “Have you heard from that PI?”

He paused in cutting up Róisín’s steak to look up at me briefly before returning to his task. “Yes.”

I was about to take a bite of my overcooked filet—thanks to Siobhan—and stabbed my fork in a little harder than I meant to. “What?” I felt Róisín jump at the clamor. “Sorry, Princess.”

“Maybe this would be a conversation better suited to privacy than the dinner table?” he said, handing the girl back her fork. “There you go, Peachy.”

I pushed my plate away and stood, dropping Siobhan’s hand. “I’m not hungry. Let’s go.”

Siobhan let out a small noise of dissent, but otherwise remained silent. Jules looked at Róisín with the utmost level of moroseness, kissed her hair, then stood and said with as little enthusiasm as possible, “After you, coven master.”

I flung the door shut and locked it the second we were in my office, then slammed Jules up against the door.

“I’m sick of your little games and tantrums, Chevalier. You know just as well as I there are certain… assets you’d like to have returned to your care.” A bit of spittle landed on his face with the force behind my words, and he flinched.

Good.

“My coven, you mean,” he said, finally giving in and actually speaking in an irritatingly petulant tone. “I hold no delusions about my former wife or any kind of future there. That was the trade-off. You promised that if I betrayed them and helped you, you’d make sure Lysette turned the White Orchid over to me, under the agreement that we remain allies. It’s been nine fucking years, and I’m still waiting, brother.”

I literally saw red and pulled my arm back at the elbow to land a hard—but not damaging—blow into his abdomen. “It has been yours this whole time,” I hissed, rage lacing every word. “It’s not my fault you’re too weak to rebuild from the ashes you left yourself. Don’t try to turn this on me. Who the fuck gave you shelter and food and sex and magic, Julien? Now you want to act like you’re the victim of your own decisions. You can get absolutely—” I released him and closed my fist once more—“fucked.”

I sucker punched him in the jaw, and he staggered. When he looked up at me, I could see a small trickle of blood descending his chin, and his eyes, for the first time in years, weren’t empty and dead.

“Come on, Jules. Hit me. No magic, no tricks. Just man to man. Fucking do it, you weak, worthless coward.”

His expression flashed with rage, fear, sadness, and a thousand other emotions. His hands balled at his sides, and I thought he might actually strike.

But instead, he closed his eyes and leaned against the door. “The coven isn’t mine,” he said in a strained voice. “I’d have felt it pass to me. She’s still holding on to it. And until that day comes when she gives me what should have always been mine… I will continue to serve the House of the Black Rose. Like I promised.”

I smirked at him. “What a good little dog, Julien. Always ready to serve your master.” I grabbed him around the neck and placed a deep, rough kiss on his lips, wrapping an arm around him to pull him against me before pushing him away just as quickly. I turned from him and went to my desk, sitting down and adjusting myself to avoid bringing sex into this. Violence always brought me to attention, but we’d have time for that later. “Now. Tell me what you know.”

He remained still for several moments, his body relaxing once more into the sullen posture he wore day and night, before he opened his eyes and took a seat across from me.

“They were seen,” he sighed. “Well… one of them was, they think. A small town a few hours outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. An acolyte of a loyal coven reported seeing a blonde witch with a scar on her throat, buying a car in cash.”

“Trackable. Go on.”

“Not a word on my sister,” he admitted, sneering slightly. The disdain for Lysette was almost enough to earn him another hit. “But he followed the one he saw to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. It’s a lead.” He shrugged and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up. “Coordinates. I trust that’s enough for you to go on?” His tone was brave. He knew he’d brought me something valuable and was letting it go to his head.

My heart pounded, and I brought the paper to my face as though it was Lysette, herself. The best lead we ever had. I was finally about to see my child—my heir.

It wasn’t that I didn't care for Róisín. She was a delightful child with all the cleverness—and spitefulness—I could have hoped for in progeny of mine. However, Róisín came with baggage. Baggage I was desperate to rid myself of.

“Well done, Jules,” I said, raising my eyes to him and setting down the piece of paper. “Very… well done.”

I stood and walked around the mahogany desk, then sat on the front edge of it before him. My arousal had grown with the news rather than lessened, and at current, it was eye level with one very pleased-looking Julien. He always was weak for compliments and praise. Put it down to the daddy issues he would never resolve.

His gaze flickered downward, seeing what I was presenting him, and, despite the look of deep self-loathing that crossed his face, he licked his lips.

“Is that all, coven master?” he asked without a shred of hope I would say yes.

“Is it?” I growled back at him, dropping down and placing my own hand in his lap, gripping him tightly through his pants. “Poor Jules,” I panted, feeling him come to life in my hand. “So pent up. No wonder you’re miserable. I’m certain as a thoughtful and caring master—coven master, I mean—I could help you find some… relief.”

“Who said,” he gasped, sucking in a deep breath as his eyes fluttered shut, then open again, unable to hide how badly he truly did need this, “I need any relief?”

I grabbed him by the neck, gently this time, and pulled him to his feet, leaning in and placing a smattering of kisses on it. “I need you, too, Jules.”

You’re the closest I can get to having the ones I really want, I said internally.

He tensed, fighting against it for another few moments, but a final, well-placed nip at his throat broke him down. He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, holding me to him briefly before backing away. With slow, deliberate movements, he reached down. Click, went the belt buckle before he pulled it slowly free of the loops and undid the button on his jeans. He turned, lowering them to the floor along with his boxer-briefs and stepping out of them as he went, until he stood at the door, hands spread wide and planted on the wood.

I followed in suit, coming up behind him and biting hard at his shoulder. I was days, maybe even hours away from finding Lysette. Finding the piece of myself I’d been missing more than a pair of lungs missing air. I was aroused, mind, body, soul, and—perhaps most importantly, magically. I needed a release more than ever.

“Now…” I breathed hotly in his ear, “we will see just what a good boy Julien can be.”

Aster’s squeals echoed around the large room as she rushed up the stairs to look at the display. Some of Sebastian’s colleagues had gotten hold of an excavated warship and painstakingly transported it to the Museum of American History, where guests could walk up to a platform and look over the deck.

“Oh, wow,” Aster gushed. “Momma, look! It’s just like the Hispaniola.”

Lysette, Sebastian, and I hung back to let her enjoy the moment. She’d been thrilled at the displays, rushing from room to room, but this one had given her the biggest thrill so far. Her auburn waves bounced forward as she leaned over the railing, hand stretched out toward the fragile wood that was just out of reach.

“Aster…” I warned with a laugh. “Let’s not get Sebastian in trouble. No touching.”

She stuck her tongue out at me but withdrew her hand. She started walking around the exhibit, reading the plaques, every word sparking fresh light in her eyes.

“I still can’t believe you found the actual Ring of Hecate,” Sebastian mused quietly amidst our discussion of how we might be able to counter Éiren. “And she’s not only real, but you’re her—what?—great-great-great granddaughter?”

“Something like that, I guess,” I snorted. “Didn’t matter. Éiren got his hands on it anyway, and I’m pretty sure…” I let my words trail off as Lysette tensed next to me at the mention of his name. I didn’t think it would be good for her if I mentioned my suspicion that he’d killed Siobhan’s child, another of his children, to activate the ring. Not when the obvious assumption was that he would be coming after Lysette and Aster, whether he needed her blood or not.

Sebastian had spent most of his day at work, which was to our benefit since, as a researcher, he was able to use that time to get the information we needed. Lysette stayed in the bedroom all day, recovering emotionally, while I introduced Aster to television for the first time in her life. I’d hoped Lysette would have gotten some rest, but even now, her eyes were swollen and red, with bags underneath she hadn’t even bothered to modify. I’d never, in three hundred years, seen her look so disheveled, and that wasn’t even what concerned me most. It was the way her eyes kept pooling with tears and the way she startled at every noise, like the sounds, themselves, were sent by Éiren to remind her of what she’d done—to dig the blade in deeper.

Not that I could blame her for being jumpy. The museum was empty but for us and a couple of night guards, so every footfall, every creak of a door, every burst of air from the vents sounded like an attack. Sebastian used his position to get us after-hours access, which allowed Aster to roam freely while we talked and saved us having to worry about who might be lurking in the crowds.

He handed me a thick file, and I took it with a grimace.

“Normally, I love extensive research, but I’m a little fatigued. Can you give me the book report version?” I asked, feeling the weight of the stack of papers inside.

He gave an easy laugh, reminding me why it had always been so simple and comfortable to be with him. He was genuinely likeable. It was too bad I knew my feelings for him would never go beyond “like.”

“Interesting request from someone with triple the formal education I have, Doctor Bea, but sure. The good news I have for you is minimal. There are so few scholarly articles on the Ring of Hecate because it’s mostly considered to be part of her myth, and any witches who might have known about it kept pretty tight-lipped about it.” He gave me a playfully accusatory stare, since I’d told him about how my lineage was tasked with protecting the ring. “There are rumors of something that can destroy its power, but, unfortunately, most of the information I have for you on it and the Goddess, herself, is tainted by non-magical society’s appropriation of her cult’s teachings.”

“That doesn’t sound minimal,” I countered with a defeated sigh. “It sounds like jack shit.”

Aster looked at me with a wild grin when I swore and opened her mouth to repeat after me, to play our old game of “get Bea in trouble with Lysette,” but I knew Lysette would not be a good participant today.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned, my usual warmth absent from my voice. Her face fell at my tone, and regret coursed through me. None of this was her fault. I’d make it up to her later, I promised myself.

After several minutes of awkward silence, Sebastian continued. “The best lead I have for you is at Delphi. Apparently her early followers met at the Temple of Apollo there. There might be something no one else could find, like the ring. Maybe she left clues for her descendants.”

I opened the file, and Sebastian flipped through the pages to show me a photo of the crumbling edifice.

“Seems doubtful,” I groaned. “Unless there’s a hole in the ground for me to fall into. What do you think, Lys?” I asked, hoping to bring her into the conversation and back to herself by making light of my mishap in Triora. “It’s been a while since I tried to die on you. Maybe we’re due for a little danger.”

She glared at me, but I saw the sad warning beneath her gaze. I knew why. Éiren had the ring and had managed to at least partially activate it. Every breath we took put us in danger—we didn’t have to go looking for it.

Sebastian wasn’t amused either, and he put a hand on my arm, guiding me gently away from Lysette and Aster to give us a moment alone.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he whispered, pulling me into an embrace. “I really thought you knew about—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted, moving away gently, so he knew I wasn’t upset with him. I looked up into his soft blue eyes and smiled sadly. He returned the expression, understanding. Our moment had passed, and I wasn’t ready for another.

I probably never would be—with him or anyone.

I looked over my shoulder at the entrance to the exhibit where, at that instant, Lysette and Aster came back out into the hall. Aster dragged Lysette by the hand. Lys was smiling, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes.

Sebastian followed my gaze. “We can talk later,” he suggested.

I nodded, following behind Lysette and Aster as the latter bounced from exhibit to exhibit like a pinball, and I made a point of enjoying this moment, one we never would have had if we hadn’t left the cabin.

That night, after my sisters went to sleep, Sebastian took me outside into a small yard behind his house. It wasn’t large, but it was private, with a high fence and canopy to protect us from prying eyes.

I walked around the flower beds he’d planted around the edges, barren now that winter was approaching. I reached for one of the rose bushes, touching a brown, brittle thorn and feeling bile rise in my throat.

“Those represent your heartbreaks—the things that changed you…”

“Hey,” Sebastian called from behind me, and I heard the mischief in his voice.

I turned, knowing what he was doing, and barely had time to throw myself to the ground to avoid the bolts of electricity he’d directed at me, which crashed into the bush behind me, obliterating the foul plant.

“Shit! Bea, are you okay?” He rushed over and pulled me to my feet, helping to brush the dirt from my clothes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I grumbled.

“Sorry for that. I thought you’d catch it.”

With my fire, he meant. Like when he was living at the mansion, and we would go out to the gardens and combine his electricity with my fire to make electric fireballs we’d play with like volleyballs—until eventually one of us would lose control and set a hedge on fire, much to Lysette’s chagrin.

My throat went dry. “I can’t. I… I can’t cast anymore. My fire and ice are gone.” The admission was quiet, painful, and the shock on Sebastian’s face made it nearly unbearable.

“How?” he asked, stepping forward to grab my hand and pull me onto a bench beside him.

“Does it matter?”

He frowned silently for a moment, visibly weighing what he was about to say. “It does if…” He struggled with his words for a moment. “If you can’t use magic, you’re a liability. Lysette already has to protect Aster. Don’t you think, by going with them, you’re putting them at higher risk?”

“No, I don’t.” I felt the dark magic roiling just beneath the surface, looking to be released, to show him why I could protect them. Instead, I took a breath and looked him in the eyes. “Keep researching. Please. If you ever cared for Lysette or me, you’ll find a way for us to take him down. As long as he has this power, Lysette and her daughter are in danger.”

“What about you?” he demanded. “Aren’t you in danger, too?”

“I can take care of myself,” I countered defiantly.

His tension seemed to dissipate just a touch, and he chuckled. “That sounds more like the Bea I know.”

“No,” I shut him down quickly. “I’m not. Not anymore.”

The Bea he knew was reckless, careless, selfish. She destroyed everything around her by being exactly like her father, too wrapped up in her own agenda and vendettas to take care of the people that mattered, and I wasn’t going to be that person ever again.

My gut twisted into knots as I pulled my sleeve up to reveal what looked like soft, unblemished skin, but when I put Sebastian’s fingers to it, he felt the truth. The ruined, puckered skin of my scar had been modified to look healed, but it never would be.

“This is where… where Éiren gave me one of those rose tattoos. It makes all of your magic dark magic, a sick, evil conduit for it. I tried to get rid of it, burned it off with one of my iron knives, but all I did was get rid of my own magic. I killed a pair of intruders who stumbled into our homestead wielding guns with a thought last week.”

A long moment of silence passed between us before Sebatian spoke slowly.

“Lysette let you stay with her and Aster knowing you’re using dark magic?” He gave me a side-eyed stare, and I looked away.

He knew.

And he knew she didn’t know.

“I’m not ‘using’ it. Not on purpose. And Lysette has no idea. It would break her even more if she knew.” I bit my lip. “But if it comes down to a fight, I don’t care what happens to me. I’ll give every last part of me. I have no problem taking the life and magic from Éiren, Julien, Siobhan, and each fucking Black Rose to keep them safe.” The intensity of my words surprised even me. I knew they were true. I’d already made that promise to myself, but saying them out loud felt like an oath, an unbreakable bond.

Sebastian was still for several minutes, and a chill fell over me. He could make an attempt on my life right now, snuff out the evil beside him, and I would have to either kill him first…

Or let him.

But he didn’t.

He reached for my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine in a comforting way. “Your secret is safe with me,” he promised. “I’ll keep looking. Send you anything I can find. And…” He paused, resting a finger on my arm. “I’ll try to find a way to get rid of that, too.”

I was stunned by the offer. The idea of anyone putting themselves potentially in harm’s way for me, someone I cared about, made me bristle. Part of me wanted to argue that I didn’t need the help, that I would manage on my own.

But that was the old Bea, the one who went off on her own, who made stupid, reckless decisions with her own life and with other people’s hearts. Who never accepted help when she needed it and pushed away everyone who mattered.

New Bea? She turned and gave Sebastian a tight, grateful hug.

“Thanks, Seb.”

In our typical fashion, we booked the first flight we could and consequently had to try to get Aster to bed at eight in the evening so we could be up on time. Luckily, after her day of excitement, seeing things I could have never imagined I could give her, she was more tired than she’d ever been in her life. She fell asleep on the couch with Bea, watching some comedy show with humor far too advanced for her life experience.

I was spacing out when Bea cleared her throat and gestured to Aster’s tiny, curled body and said, “Why don’t you both get some rest?”

I wanted badly to deny my need for it, but I was too exhausted to even summon a rebuttal, so I simply nodded. I bent to pick Aster up and realized how heavy she felt, a tight pang stabbing through me. How much longer would I have to hold her like this before I no longer could?

I laid her down into the bed, removing her socks and taking out her braids, her beautiful ginger hair cascading through my fingers in delicate waves. The color of it was clearly her father’s, though darker, and if not for her face, I might have believed none of my own traits made the cut. But her adorable button nose and big eyes, despite their color, were mine.

My heart ached at the thought that the man I’d wholly submitted to and loved beyond reason would never know her. He’d never talk to her late at night while reading her one too many bedtime stories. He’d never see her off to school or awkwardly learn how to braid her hair.

He’d never see what a brilliant child had come from such malevolent intentions.

As I pulled the covers over her, she opened her eyes long enough to smile at me before falling back asleep, and I crawled into the bed next to her. This time, it was me who pulled her close, and she warmed me like a tiny furnace. I kissed her head, then closed my eyes, almost immediately surrendering to unconsciousness.

Thoughts of Hecate and Greece and the impossible task before us swirled in my mind before I was pulled into a dream, a memory of a time and place, a moment in my own history, a hundred and fifty years earlier. Before I knew the monster lurking beneath the surface of the man I loved.

The aquamarine waters eddied at the stone wall protecting the chateau from the Mediterranean Sea, and the waves lapped at our toes as we lay in each other’s arms on the beach. Sand was absolutely everywhere. It was dotted through my hair and dusted across his freckled shoulders. His beautiful silver eyes looked at me like I was the only thing keeping him from floating away, and his fingers toyed with the skirt on my bathing suit.

We were silent, the only sounds those of the beach as he leaned in to kiss my neck softly. His strong hands held my throat gently as he nibbled at it, eliciting tiny gasps from me. No matter how many times he had me, it always felt as electric as the first.

A few gentle movements, and he was on top of me, his elbows dug firmly into the sand and his hands on my hair as he kissed me. I snaked my arms around his waist, pulling him tightly against me and inhaling his smell—some cologne he’d worn for the last hundred years.

A particularly large wave splashed over us, and Éiren laughed as I shrieked, even more sand being deposited onto each of us.

“You’re adorable when you’re surprised, Rosie.”

I looked up at him with defiance, sticking my tongue out and crossing my eyes as the water subsided. He smiled widely, and the adoration radiated from his gaze. Éiren never failed to make me feel seen to a fault, almost as if he could see right to my very soul.

With the flip of a switch, his expression turned from playful charm to lust-filled hunger, and he used his mouth to mark his way down my body. Then, with no other preamble, we were naked and writhing, our nude bodies silhouettes against the setting sun. He was sitting, pressed into the sand, which was likely getting into places that would take effort to remove, and I was being meticulously slid up and down his length.

He felt so good inside me. He always did, and a deep, deep part of me missed that, even in my dream. Not just the physical perfection of him, but how this moment represented the last time I felt true goodness from Éiren.

Before he was tainted by his power lust, he only had a lust for my love.

I gasped as his arms held me close, never feeling like there was a way to be close enough.

And then… he was choking, black spidery webbing shooting up beneath his skin.

“Lysette—” he gasped, and I watched helplessly as my poison, my morte, entered him through his mouth, nose, and eyes. He scratched at his throat so hard it began to bleed, his eyes bulging and leaking black fluid.

He was dying.

“No!” I screamed, trying to pull it back and failing. His skin began to blacken and rot like Harken’s, falling away from the bone. “Éiren! No!”

But suddenly, he wasn’t Éiren at all. He was Bea, and her body was convulsing as it shut down, bleeding from the necrotic wounds I’d given her.

“No!” I cried, trying to will my magic back into place. “No!”

My efforts were futile. The magic raged, filling her, until she went still, her eyes wide and empty.

“Beatrice! No!” I sobbed. “Open your eyes! Wake up!”

But she didn’t. She remained still, though the gaping wounds left by my morte continued to spread, consuming what was left of my sister. I held her, trying to keep her just a moment longer, even as she crumbled into nothing in my arms. My body shook with sobs as my greatest fear came true, right before my eyes—someone I loved, dead because I lost control. Finally, the horror of what I’d done overtook the grief and devastation, and I stood to run.

But as I turned, I froze, stepping back into the sludgy remains of Beatrice Lightvale. I nearly began to retch as I found the entire beach stained red and covered with bodies. All with the same black markings on their skin, rotting away from their skeletons.

And I recognized them all.

Sebastian… Father… Carina… Julien.

Aster…

“No!” I cried again, falling to my knees and sobbing, retching, begging to die with them. I caught my reflection in the ocean, which had gone as still and quiet as the bodies of those who had and would fall to my magic…

And the black eyes of the demon stared back.

I awoke with a start and felt the bed beneath me soaked in my sweat. I blinked back tears, gasping and clutching the sheets. The sun shot into the room in delicate, dust filled rays, and the house was silent. Peaceful, if not for my trembling hands and hyperventilation.

I swung my legs from the bed, noticing Aster missing, and flung the door open, tiptoeing to the living room, where Bea and Aster were putting our things into a suitcase. Bea caught sight of my face, and a worried look crossed her own.

“Nightmare,” I breathed, knowing full well that was all I needed to explain the situation. Bea understood the look of someone who’d been dreaming about him. “I’m hoping you two are ready to go so we can get to the airport in time?” I went to where Aster was holding a sweater of mine and took it from her. “Why don’t you ask Sebastian to make you some breakfast? He makes a great bowl of cereal.”

Aster lit up with delight at the prospect of having something new and skipped off down the hall. Once she was gone, I made pointed eye contact with Bea.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked me, one eyebrow disappearing into her hair.

“Fuck, no,” I replied, still trying to catch my breath. “I just want this to be over. To be free of this dark shadow looming over my life, to—” I realized what I was saying, what I was implying I was ready for. The utter destruction of the man I’d loved for three hundred years. The love that still lived, fully formed in my heart, but had been frozen in place to resist my desire. To stop myself from making choices that could lead to the harm of the people I loved most.

Bea hesitated, then turned to continue packing, her eyes avoiding mine.

“I’m right there with you,” she mumbled, taking out whatever emotion was most present for her on a pair of jeans so aggressively that an outside observer might think they had done her a personal injury as she threw them into the suitcase.

I nodded and placed my own sweater in the luggage before her.

“I still can’t seem to wrap my brain around this idea that I—we—will have to kill him. I don’t suppose there’s any other way? I swear I’m not… I’m not…”

I didn’t have to finish the sentence. She knew what I was trying to say. I wasn’t going back to the old Lysette, who simpered and moved mountains for the will of Éiren Connolly. I would never go back to being her. I would rather die.

Bea looked at me with pity, her entire body still as a statue, before her fingers drifted absentmindedly to her forearm.

“No one expects you to do it, Lys,” she said softly. “You were never a killer, no matter what happened with that guy or even those Black Roses back home. And I know all too well the desire to spare someone you can’t help but…” Now it was her turn to drift off, and I knew that, for all her bravada, for the way she seemed to have burned away her love for Julien along with her magic, she couldn’t fight it any more than I could help loving Éiren. Neither of us would ever be able to separate ourselves from them. Not entirely.

I reached for her hand and pulled her into a hug. We were isolated in this enduring pain, but we were together in it, too. The two men we would have died for stabbed us in the back while we were turned toward the future, and as much as Éiren’s betrayal was inevitable, neither of us could have seen Julien’s coming.

“I have to do it,” I said softly, trying not to say what I was thinking—that it was the only way for me to be free of the darkness within me. “It’s my responsibility as coven leader and as his…”

His what? Wife? Lover? Enabler…?

I looked at my watch and saw we had about ten minutes before we needed to leave for the airport.

“I’m going to get Aster’s coat on. You good to finish this?” I asked, trying to instill false confidence in my voice.

Bea stepped away from the embrace but kept a hand on my shoulder. She didn’t say a word for a long moment as we stared at each other, feeling the bond that connected us even beyond the bond of the coven or the one between two people who’d chosen each other as family hundreds of years ago.

This was a bond forged in blood spilled and hearts broken. In a singular goal, one that might claim both of our lives and souls.

“Oh, I’m good to finish it, alright,” she snorted without an ounce of humor, her meaning going deeper than simply throwing clothes into a valise, which she turned to resume doing. “I’m ready for this to be over, too.”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue against her implications that anyone besides me could possibly be the one to put an end to Éiren.

But fighting wouldn’t get us anywhere. We needed to work together, and for that, we couldn’t be trying to undermine each other to get there first. We’d already done that and failed.

I sighed, resigned to dealing with it later. “See you downstairs in ten.”

***

The airport was crowded with people traveling for the holidays, and I became keenly aware that the winter solstice was coming soon. As it always did, my mind wandered to our friends in England, wondering what fabulous party they’d be getting ready for, totally unaware they would never have another if Bea and I didn’t stop him.

I hadn’t been able to get in touch with Nat in nearly ten years, while we were in hiding. I hoped, once this was over, she would forgive me, and we could pick up where we left off. Bea and I had likely already missed her wedding with Kelby, leaving me to guess what other important events we may have been missing in our friends’ lives.

The ones that were left, anyway.

“Momma, can I have a piece of candy?”

I looked up and saw Aster pointing to a nearby newsstand shop and hitting me with the massive puppy dog eyes. Bea had bought her a candy bar among her “road trip treats,” and since then, all she could talk about was having candy. I gave Bea a pointed look and rolled my eyes.

“Perhaps Bea can help you with that, since she decided to show you what candy is to begin with.”

Bea took Aster’s hand, giving the girl a hundred-watt smile which sat entirely on the surface. “I’d be happy to, Peachy, but I have a better idea. Why don’t we let your momma sort out what she needs to for the flight, and I’ll get you an ice cream and a soda?” She nodded her head toward a small eatery in the terminal.

“What’s a soda?” Aster asked, her enthusiasm unbridled and explosive.

“Guess you’re going to find out,” Bea chuckled before looking at me. “You want anything?” She’d been overly deferential since we left Sebastian’s, and I knew she was trying to make things simple again, like when we were living in the cabin—even if it had only been an illusion on borrowed time.

I shook my head, and she nodded, leading Aster across the terminal.

I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to think of anything but him choking to death on my poison, on Bea’s face riddled with venomous wounds, of the beach covered in the bodies of people I’d loved and ones I’d sworn to protect and care for. But the image was etched so surely in my mind that I felt like I might never see anything else again.

“Good afternoon, passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 1259 to Athens. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes’ time. Thank you.”

I looked up for Bea and Aster to find them both staring at me, licking ice cream cones and bearing similar expressions. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought they were mother and daughter rather than sisters.

I hoped someday I would be able to explain to Aster about her father, about how she and Bea shared that connection, that it was the reason they were sisters, but how it was their love that held them together and made them family.

And always would.

If being in a car had thrilled Aster, it was nothing to the wonder she had at being on an airplane. Oceans and cities sprawled beneath our view, and her disappointment when night fell about halfway through the flight, when she couldn’t see the earth beneath us, was tangible.

Lysette pushed the armrest between them up, and Aster lay with her head cradled in her mother’s lap. Lys’s own eyes were wide, unwilling to close, and it took everything in me not to try to comfort her. I didn’t know what I would even say, and one of us had to be on her game.

Forcing myself to take that bullet, I tore my eyes from my sisters, forcing myself to rest, and slept a thankfully dreamless sleep. I awoke to the thump of the plane touching down in Athens as Aster gave a little shriek, not aware it was normal.

After a couple of brief inquiries, I had tickets for a train to Delphi, the trip quick but beautiful as the train climbed through the mountains. When we disembarked, Lysette began to fuss over Aster’s scarf as I pulled my coat tightly around myself, the crisp mountain air biting into my cheeks. I hailed a cab to take us to a hotel where we could drop our bags before starting on the footpath up to the temple, surrounded by dozens of others, all moving toward the same destination.

I envied them—their blissful innocence. The way they had no idea of the evil growing thousands of miles away, ready to destroy everything they ever knew or believed.

We slipped into a group that was part of a tour, blending in as much as possible. The guide waved a flag to direct us and spoke English, which I was thankful for because, while I could recognize the language from times Ysabel would slip it into conversations, it was sadly not among the seven other languages I could speak.

“This is the third Temple of Apollo to sit in this spot,” the guide said in a crisp English accent I recognized as being from London, similar to Nat’s. “The first was destroyed in a fire, the second in an earthquake, though some of the columns we will see are remnants from the second temple. Contrary to popular belief, the Oracle at Delphi was not one person, but many. They were women chosen from the Delphic priestesses of Apollo to foretell the future and speak to the gods. The Pythia would give their prophecies from here…”

The temple sat on a bluff, with the mountains behind it providing an imposing background. I looked up the path and started walking, not wanting to wait even a second. We’d wasted too much time already. Years of it.

Aster’s hair whipped around us, and Lysette reached down to braid it for her as we made it to the ruins, and I was stunned into silence. Having lived through as much history as I had and having seen so many incredible things man and nature have created across the globe, I hadn’t expected it to take my breath away. But beyond it being a beautiful sight to behold, a true feat of human artistry and architecture, I could feel the magic emanating from this place in spades. I wasn’t sure if it was Hecate, but it was something—something powerful.

Aster took off at a run, climbing over the massive stone steps and diving between tourists who gave her a scandalized look. She didn’t even notice, her childhood innocence and joy too far removed from their strict social norms. I watched her for a moment, enjoying her unbridled enthusiasm, something I had lost until she came into my life. Then, tearing my eyes away, I tried to focus on the task at hand, to follow the source of power and feel for Hecate’s presence here the way I did in Salem, but it seemed to surround and evade me all at once.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold crawled down my spine. I’d felt the surge when he activated the ring, felt the tiny bursts of that same power leading up to it. I assumed I was feeling Hecate’s power each time, but my inability to sense her here left me with a deep-seated fear I hadn’t given conscious thought to before.

Was that feeling a connection to Hecate… or to my father?

I pressed my hands to each of the pillars, then knelt down and brushed my fingers over the stone floor, not feeling anything the way I once felt the ring calling to me. I stood, brushing the dirt from my knees, and turned to look for Lysette and Aster. The latter was now climbing up some of the low stone walls and jumping off with melodic giggles, while Lysette focused on the rubble, searching for something she couldn’t find any more than I could.

I strode back to them and caught Aster out of the air, spinning her in a circle as she squealed happily.

“Getting brave, aren’t you, Peachy?”

I set her down, and she stuck her tongue out at me before taking off once more, finding an even larger ledge to leap from. I stood for a moment to watch her, just in time to see her climb up higher than she had before.

I heard Lysette call out, “Aster, be more careful!”

But she was too late.

Aster landed and lost her footing, stumbling into an old woman who barely managed to stay upright with the force of the impact. Lysette rushed to her daughter and pulled her to her feet while I went to the woman, each of us taking a different role in handling the incident.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized as Lysette knelt to check Aster’s physical state. “Are you okay?”

The woman smiled easily at me. She looked like the gift shop had thrown up on her. Her hair was long and tied back in a silver ponytail that hung down the back of a hot pink sweatshirt with “Welcome to Delphi!” across the front in large, multicolored block letters. She held a large camera which hung from a strap around her neck, and she wore a waist bag with the Greek flag on the front.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she replied in a voice that sounded much younger than she appeared, but with a heavy Greek accent that made her ensemble even stranger. Why would someone who lived here dress like that? “She meant no harm. She’s a delightful child.” The woman looked past me for a second, then stared directly into my eyes. “Full of the fun you’ve taught her, Beatrice.”

The blood receded from my face, and I turned to look at my sisters, hoping I could tell them to run, ready to hold the woman off. My mind began to work quickly, but all I could think about was, for all our discussions about who would get to finish off Éiren, for all of my internal battles about what I would do when I saw Julien again, about how and when I would reveal to Lysette that I was still full of dark magic, I was going to have to unleash it here, in full view of hundreds of non-magical people—completely breaking two of the major rules of the coven.

And I just had to hope there were few enough of our enemies here that I could give Lysette time to get out before they took me down.

She hadn’t noticed the interaction and was quietly admonishing Aster for her carelessness, but I had seconds at most to act. I couldn’t call out to her without making a bigger scene or tipping off this woman that I was about to strike, so I was on my own. I twitched my fingers, saying a silent goodbye to them in my mind.

But then, the strangest sensation came over me, like shackles on the magic I tried to summon, locking it into place.

“That’s a bit rude,” the woman said with another grin, though this time I saw the laughter in her eyes. There was no malevolence there, but I would have been stupid to not question how she knew who we were. “Besides, you don’t want to expose that ‘dark’ secret quite yet, do you?”

“Dark” secret. She knew.

How the hell did she know, though?

“Who are you?” I demanded, a waver in my voice evident despite my attempt to sound strong and sure. My heart was weary and worn, and the hard exterior I’d projected for centuries had cracked open, never to be whole again. I’d found a sort of freedom in it out in the wilderness, in our cabin. Now, back in the world and among other people, never knowing whether you faced a friend or foe, I felt exposed and ready to break at the slightest push.

“You can call me Sybil,” the woman chirped like a preschool teacher on the first day of the year. “Come on, we have to get your bags. You’re going to stay with me.”

As someone with fourteen degrees from various colleges and universities, including half a dozen from Ivy Leagues, it wasn’t common for me to feel slow and stupid, but Sybil managed it. She was making no sense at all, and I couldn’t follow her seemingly disjointed comments.

“We’re not going anywhere. I don’t know how you know my name, but—”

“Simmer down, Beatrice,” Sybil scolded, though her face remained serene and unbothered as she called over my shoulder. “Lysette, dear, would you mind joining us? I’m pretty spry, but I still prefer company on the descent.”

Lysette looked up in confusion and fear. She hadn’t heard the conversation, but we’d already agreed on aliases to use. No stranger should know her name. She stood, pushing Aster behind her, making sure we were both between this strange woman who knew too much and the child we swore to protect at all costs.

“Oh, you White Orchids are a hoot,” Sybil laughed, slapping her thighs like we’d told a great joke. “I knew you would be, of course, but it’s always different in person versus…” She tapped her temple, and I felt the pieces fall into place.

“Are you… Pythia?” I asked quietly, reaching a hand for the knife at my hip, just in case I was wrong.

Sybil looked down at my hand and then back to my eyes.

“What did I say about rudeness, Beatrice?” She turned her back on me, giving me a perfect shot to bury my blade between her ribs if I so chose. I wrapped my fingers around the wooden handle, ready to take it, before Sybil called back without even looking at me, beginning to walk toward the path and shaking her finger in the air. “Don’t make me take that knife from you. Let’s go, girls.”

I looked at Lysette, seeing my own bewilderment mirrored on her face. Aster was looking between us, confused, and for the first time, I saw a hint of fear pass over that beautiful face, reading the energy in both of us. I rushed toward her, lifting her so she was wrapped securely in my arms.

“It’s okay, Peachy. Everything’s fine,” I said, kissing her forehead.

Lysette started toward me to take her daughter, but I stopped her. Sybil had already prevented me from using the dark magic, and I doubted I’d successfully get a knife in her—not if she knew it was coming. Lysette might have a chance to strike, however, and she’d need her hands if she was going to try.

“Follow?” I asked her quietly. “Or do you want to take the shot?”

“Why should we trust you?” Lysette said coldly, as though she was keeping her options open with a healthy dose of skepticism.

Sybil turned to face us once more, and I stumbled back. Her eyes had gone pure white, and she spoke in a voice that, while still hers, seemed to carry the wind with it.

“Because you’re looking in the wrong place. And he knows where you’ve been. He knows where you’ve come. And he plans to follow.” She stepped forward to grab my wrist. The chill returned as she continued. “You’re running out of time. You can win. But even I can’t see if you will.”

Her eyes returned to their normal brown, and she turned once more, waving us on to come with her. Once she’d put a few extra feet between us, I set Aster down, my eyes on Lysette’s.

“She’s nearly as annoying as Ysabel,” I grumbled, trying to keep my tone light. I didn’t trust this person for a second, but she was right—we were out of leads. “But I’m going with her. If you want to go back to the hotel with Aster, you can. I’ll come back once I have more information.”

But Lysette shook her head with stubborn exasperation. “No way. We stick together or we don’t go at all, Bea.”

Aster looked frustrated at trying to figure out what was going on, and the more irritated Lysette got, the harder she squeezed Aster’s hand.

“Ow, Mommy!” she cried out.

Lysette withdrew her grasp sharply, looking down at her daughter in horror. She opened her mouth to say something, but I was quickly losing control.

“Fine!” I snapped, and they both stared at me. Lysette looked disappointed, having not missed this part of me at all, but I was much more focused on Aster. Between Lysette grabbing her too hard and me yelling in a way I never had at her, she looked like she might cry. I knelt down and looked right into her eyes, smoothing her hair back into its plait. “I’m sorry, Peachy. That wasn’t very nice of me. Can I make it up to you? Anything you want from the next store or restaurant we go to.” I kissed her head, making eye contact with Lysette as I did.

There was nothing for it but to throw caution to the wind and hope it wasn’t a mistake.

Without a word between us, we agreed and followed the strange woman away from the temple.

***

Sybil explained on our walk how her coven, the ancient Order of Pythia, were, indeed, the servants of Apollo, but they were also powerful psychic witches who would take turns “electing” each other as the new Oracle throughout the years when Ancient Greece was still the paragon of the world.

“They thought we were simply recruiting new girls,” she chuckled. “They never caught on that we were the same women, cycling through whenever one of us got bored with the task.”

“And, what?” I asked. “Now it’s your turn?”

For the first time, Sybil’s expression lost its joyful luster.

“For the rest of time, I’d imagine.” She looked briefly over her shoulder at the temple. “There’s a reason my coven isn’t known to other witches anymore.” I saw the slump of her shoulders, the defeat in her posture.

“They’re dead,” I guessed. “And you’re the only one left.”

Her silence was as good a confirmation as any.

“Why not join a new coven?” Lysette asked.

Sybil gave her a sad smile. “I took a vow to serve the temple. I’m no longer bound to a coven master, but I’m still bound to the duty that my sisters and I undertook.”

The rest of the walk went by in relative silence. When we arrived, she sat us immediately at the table and, within seconds, had a kettle going for tea. Then, she went to her freezer and turned to Aster with two quarts of ice cream in hand.

“What flavor do you want, dear?” she asked the girl, whose eyes lit up.

“Flavor?” Aster squealed, leaping from her seat to look at the containers and decide which one she wanted.

I’m not sure what I expected from the home of the actual Oracle at Delphi, but if you’d asked me—hypothetically, of course, since such things couldn’t possibly be real—I wouldn’t have guessed this. The tiny ranch in the center of town was decorated in a style that might be seen on a home improvement channel, with grays and whites dominating the color palette and splashes of blues and yellows to brighten each room.

“One scoop, Aster,” Lysette warned.

“Yeah,” I chimed in to make light of things as much as possible. “You don’t want to turn into an ice cream cone from eating too many.”

Aster shot me a withering look, and I did my best to laugh as I always did, despite the unease I still felt at being here.

“So,” Sybil said, once Aster was happily occupied by her treat. “You need to find a way to counter Hecate’s Ring.” Lysette and I exchanged a glance, but said nothing, so Sybil continued. “Come now, ladies. We don’t have much time. What can I tell you to help you to trust me? Nothing from before the ring was found—no, anyone could have that information. You need proof that I could see you but didn’t tell anyone. Perhaps I could tell you how two years ago, your grape harvest was destroyed by an unusual plague of beetles? Or how the first winter you stayed in your cabin, Lysette failed to create a proper seal on the canned goods, and Bea had the shits for weeks? Or how last week—”

“We get it!” I interrupted quickly, not wanting to know if she was about to spill my secret and having heard enough. She knew things that, if she’d been working against us, would have led Éiren to our door years ago. Lysette gave me a searching look, but I kept my attention on Sybil. “We get it. Tell us, then. Is there a way?”

She smiled and sipped her tea, looking out the window toward the mountains.

“There is.”

Sybil had much to tell us—most importantly, that what we sought was at the top of Mount Olympus, if it existed at all. The location of the artifact near the Mytikas peak, the highest of Olympus’s three, was mostly unknown. Even Sybil wasn’t able to tell us exactly where it was.

“Gaia created Clytius to be a counter to Hecate, to counter her magic,” she said. We already knew that, of course. Bea was the descendant of both of them, her mother having been born with Hecate’s blood in her veins, and him with Clytius’s. “When Hecate’s ring was created as a conduit for her power and her essence, those who feared her took Clytius’s body and burned it, keeping the ashes safe and hidden away in case the ring fell into hands that would use it for… well, for exactly what it’s being used for.”

“His ashes?” Bea grumbled, incredulous. “We’re looking for a pile of dust? How do we even know it’s still there?”

“Can you… see it?” I asked, but Sybil shook her head.

“That would make things far too easy, my dears,” she chuckled. “The nature of his power prevents it from being reached by magic, and my sight is no exception to that. I can tell you where it’s rumored to be, but that’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.”

My frustration at being led on another wild goose chase was tempered by the practical need to do what needed to be done. I pulled out the phone I’d been using for the last couple days, knowing I would have to switch it again soon so Éiren or his people would have a harder time tracing it.

“It’s a five-hour drive to the base of the mountain,” I sighed. “And apparently, the hike is an all-day thing. I think we’ll have to drive there today and wait until morning to climb. I don’t particularly love the idea of scaling a mountain at night with an eight-year-old.”

Sybil looked scandalized.

“You can’t take a child up there,” she scolded, glancing at Aster, who had settled in front of a movie in the other room, unaware of our planning. “The climb alone is treacherous enough, but imagine if there were safeguards. You can’t put her in that kind of danger.”

Bea crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair in a show of faux casualty. “Guess we get to ‘rock, paper, scissors’ for who gets to go for a climb and who gets to keep her feet firmly on level ground.”

She tried to hide it, but I saw the fear flickering in her eyes. We took up hiking one summer about thirty-five years earlier in an attempt to sway my mind from him. We bought every piece of supplies we thought might come in handy, splurging on the best of the best in terms of brand and quality. It only took three treks into the Appalachian mountains before we trudged into the mansion, muddied and fatigued, our clothes torn and stained with blood where we’d slipped and fallen. I managed to heal us each time, but the emotional scars remained.

Ultimately, we threw the gear into a closet filled with abandoned hobbies we had affectionately dubbed “the museum,” which included skis, wetsuits and surfboards, and I felt a small wave of sadness thinking about it, knowing that it, like everything else I held dear in that house, including our family, had burned to the ground.

“I don’t think either of you should be undertaking that climb by yourself,” Sybil said, pouring us a second cup of tea each.

“I can’t possibly leave Aster alone,” I said softly, trying to weigh the lesser of two evils—leaving my daughter with someone I didn’t know, or taking her on a possible suicide mission.

“I’m suggesting no such thing,” she reassured me, putting a hand on mine. “She’ll be safe with me. It’s only a few days, and I would appreciate the company. It’s been a long time since I’ve had guests, and even longer since I’ve gotten to enjoy the laughter of a child.”

While superficially, the offer may have been tempting, if the last decade of my life taught me anything, it was that you never could be sure who was on your side. Save for Bea, that is. She couldn’t have turned traitor if her life depended on it and would probably just drop dead if she ever even considered it.

I gave Bea a look, trying to feel out what she thought of the proposition.

“I don’t like it,” she mumbled to me. She opened her mouth to raise an objection to our host, but Sybil cut her off.

“My ‘sight’ isn’t perfect, but I know when I’m in danger. And as long as she’s with me, I’ll know if she’s at risk, as well.”

I sighed deeply, trying to make the best decision without a shred of evidence that this was a viable option. “Do you mind if we…” I pointed to the other room and gestured to Bea. Sybil shook her head to indicate she didn’t mind at all, and I grabbed Bea’s wrist, dragging her off as Aster stared, unblinking, at the screen, completely unaware of what was happening elsewhere in the house.

The bedroom looked more like a bachelor pad than the lodgings of an immortal priestess, and for a moment, it threw me off. But I shut the door behind Bea and crossed my arms defensively.

“Thoughts?” I asked.

She looked no more happy than I was. She had always been the first to charge into a situation without a second thought, but it seemed as though that instinct was tempered where Aster was concerned. She gave a heavy sigh and sat in an armchair near the window.

“I agree with Sybil that bringing Aster along would be dangerous,” she said. “But we don’t know this woman—not really. And yet… I don’t know. I feel like we can trust her, and I can’t place my finger on why. Maybe it’s instinct or magic or something else entirely. Doesn’t really matter. On the other hand, I don’t like the idea of any of us being apart from the others right now, either. And I’d be lying if I said I was looking forward to climbing a fucking mountain again.”

Bea had liked hiking even less than I did. She was athletic and graceful on flat ground, but she had no sense of balance on the uneven, rocky terrain we found the higher we climbed. And we’d never attempted anything quite as high as Mount Olympus.

I sighed and nodded, pacing slowly, unsettled in my thoughts.

“I’m not sure we have another choice,” I said reluctantly, wringing my hands. “Either we take the chance and leave her with Sybil, or we take her with us, and that is almost guaranteed danger.”

Bea sat in silence for so long, I nearly said something just to break up the quiet, but then she shook herself free of whatever thoughts were holding her captive.

“You’re right. We don’t have a choice. I think if Sybil was a threat, we’d already be dead. Or at least, I would be.” She looked at me, her eyes full of something like pity. With a movement so sudden it startled me, she stood up and clapped her hands, her expression shifting as she began to formulate a plan. “We need to get supplies. Better than we used to have. I’d be willing to bet there are shops close to the trails we’ll have to start on to get close to the top. And we should just go. If Aster isn’t there, there’s no reason to wait for morning. Are you going to be okay with the height?”

I ignored the question about my biggest fear—outside of the ones presented by my own darkness and by the people I loved—and grabbed Bea by the wrist again, still stuck on the look she gave me.

“You don’t think he would kill both of us if he found us?” I gave her a searching look, trying to find the deeper meaning.

She twisted free of my grip but immediately took hold of my hand with her own, squeezing it tightly.

“I think he’s the single most evil person I’ve ever come across. But…” She swallowed hard. “He wouldn’t kill you. Not if he could have you. When I was there, before he cut me… You were all he could talk about. But I don’t think he’d hesitate for a second if he thought killing Aster would give him what he wanted.” She touched her throat where the scar from her own blade was hidden by my modifications. “He already proved he doesn’t care about his offspring. He had to activate the ring somehow. Siobhan’s child… We don’t know if that little girl was why his magic surged like that.”

My heart dropped out of my chest, and I felt like I was going to vomit at what she was saying. As bad as Éiren was, surely he wouldn't murder an innocent child. And if he would, did he even care about me anymore, or did he simply wish to reclaim an asset of his in our daughter, one he could use in the same way?

“I think I’m going to be sick, Bea,” I groaned, clutching my mouth.

In an instant, Bea’s arm was around me, holding me steady.

“I know the feeling,” she whispered, and I could hear the pain of trying not to cry in her voice. “I’ve been there since the second I found out he had another child. And that’s why I think we have to take the shot. Focus on the objective. Get the ashes. Counter whatever he did to activate the ring. Then, and only then, we deal with him. But we have to start with step one. So, dear coven mother,” she teased, trying to get a reaction from me with the title she knew I hated, “what’s the command?”

I forced my shoulders to relax and rolled my eyes.

“Call me coven mother one more time and let's see how fast your ass gets up that mountain.” I used the back of my hand to swat at her, missing as she dodged it, and shoved her toward the door. I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure this was the right choice, but it was the only one we had.

When we emerged, Aster was deep in conversation with Sybil about the difference between a bad pirate and a good one. An odd conversation for an eight-year-old, by any means, but the context made me flinch a little.

“Aster,” I said lightly, trying not to let a hint of nervousness permeate my tone. “You’re going to hang out with our new friend Sybil for a couple days. Is that okay?”

Part of me wished she’d refuse. Part of me was scared she’d like it too much and resent me for not having provided her with the fun things Sybil had, like a television. But my child, the precocious little sprite, was perfectly thrilled to be allowed more time with this new person—and her electronics.

“Hang out like you two used to hang out with Sebastian?”

Bea’s gasp and muffled laughter as she turned her back so Aster wouldn’t see was almost infuriating, given what Aster had unknowingly implied.

“No, baby,” I said, reaching subtly behind me to pinch Beatrice, who gave a soft noise of pain. “Not like that. Just a fun little sleepover for you.”

Aster narrowed her eyes, just like her father, and the simple gesture made my heart ache. After a moment, she dropped the studious expression, however, and smiled. “Oh. Okay.”

“You have to promise to behave and follow Sybil’s rules,” I said gently as I bent to pick her up. When her face was level with mine though, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her ear, whispering. “Do not leave this house until Mommy or Bea comes to get you. Understand? Unless she tries to take you anywhere. Then, you run like hell, okay?”

Her doll-like face creased with worry, but I plastered a smile on to steady her confidence, then put her down with a kiss.

Bea hung back while I talked to Aster, but once we were done, she came over to wrap her in a tight hug.

“We’ll be back soon, Peachy,” she promised. “Save some ice cream for me, okay?”

I didn’t say anything directly to Sybil. I felt confident she knew anything I would have to say, already. But I did give her a smile, nodding my head in thanks, before heading to the door and not looking back.

Out of her sight, tears welled up in my eyes. This would be the first time I’d ever left Aster in someone else’s care outside of Bea, and the thought of anything happening to her was almost too much to bear.

“She’s going to be fine, right?” I asked as I felt Bea come up beside me in the sunny, open air.

“Definitely,” she reassured me with a squeeze of my hand, though I imagined she was convincing herself just as much.

It was already afternoon by the time we made it to the base of the mountain in the car Sybil was kind enough to lend us. We spent a small fortune at the local outdoor shop to make sure we had everything we could possibly need—packs, food, trekking poles, even some climbing equipment. The clerk seemed thrilled to have made such a large sale, but I could tell from his confused questions he didn’t think we’d need half of what we bought. Unluckily for us, we weren’t sticking to the trails and had no idea what might be waiting for us near Clytius’s final resting place.

Once we were well-equipped and fully fed, we started up the mountain, the hordes of people who’d gotten up at dawn to climb it already returning. They stared at us as we passed, likely thinking us insane for starting our ascent so late in the day, but I didn’t want company when we diverted from the trails.

It was hard, even though we’d been living a fairly physically demanding lifestyle for the last nine years. Maintaining a small homestead wasn’t exactly the same as climbing one of the most famous mountains in the world, and we both had to take more rests than we expected.

We finally reached a fork in the road shortly after the sun began to sink below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the rocks. Bea stared at the markers in annoyance, unable to read the Greek letters.

“Shit,” she grumbled. “I thought they’d at least have some kind of directions in English. Should have taken Greek instead of Arabic during my last PhD.”

I laughed, feeling the same and realizing what privilege we had as English speakers to feel this way. Luckily for Bea, I was unable to let fate take the wheel and had grabbed an English map of the trails while she’d been looking at souvenir keychains at the register. I tugged the piece of paper free and unfolded it, waving it at Bea to get her attention.

“You know,” I said with a sarcastic drawl, “with all that education you have, it might behoove you to learn how to plan sometime in the next hundred years, Beatrice.”

She snatched it from my grip with a withering look. “Then however would you manage to remain so superior?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow as she grinned. She held up the map, comparing the images to the terrain. “I think we go this way…” She pointed toward one of the paths, but the way her eyes drifted to the one next to it—a smooth, well-worn trail—made it perfectly clear she hoped this wouldn’t be the correct way, and I was right there with her.

Almost immediately, the trail grew steep and rocky, with loose gravel and stones that didn’t look like they would stay in one place once stepped on. Within ten minutes we weren't just using our feet, but also our hands to make our way. By thirty minutes down the path, Bea and I were both covered in thick, sharp scratches from slipping and sliding, and night had completely fallen.

In my mind, I kept picturing Aster’s face, reminding myself that each tiny tear in my hands and knees was to keep her safe and out of harm’s way. That every ache and pain was going to ensure he could never touch her.

An hour after we started down the darkened path, with only our headlamps for light, the terrain began to challenge us in new and terrifying ways. I took each step thinking about how stupid we were to attempt this in the dark, feeling like every move could be our last. Then again, with my crippling fear of heights, if I had been able to see the way down, I never would have made it this far.

My hair whipped out of the ponytail I had secured as a large gust rippled past us. The sweet Aegean breezes from the daytime had shifted from cool to bitter, feeling less like a caress and more like claws pulling at us, dragging us backward, as much an agent of Éiren’s as Siobhan or Julien was.

Bea had been about a hundred feet ahead of me the whole way up, but now she was twenty feet behind, and I kept having to stop and make sure she was still there.

“You okay, Bea?” I shouted for the hundredth time in an hour. I heard a grunt as she lashed out at a stone, kicking it down the mountain behind her.

“Fine,” she called back. “Perfectly fine. Never been more fine in my life.” Her voice grew louder as she got closer to me. “Remind me again why we couldn’t come when I could at least see my own feet? I’m one missed step from—ahh!”

The sound of falling stones accompanied Bea’s shout, and I turned to find myself alone on the trail.

“Bea!” I screamed, rushing to the spot where I thought I heard her last, my own feet sliding in my desperation. I got down on all fours and moved my way to the edge, looking down.

It wasn’t overly steep, but her unsure footing led to a tumble that took her rolling at least fifty feet from the path. She was far enough that I could barely make out her unmoving figure. My heart pounded in my chest as every worst-case scenario rattled through my mind, along with the image of her dead in my arms from my dream, until I saw her push up onto all fours.

“Lys!” she called out to me. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I shouted back. “Are you okay?” I was a broken record, but at least this time, I had reason to ask.

“I… I don’t think so,” she replied, her voice strained but clear. “I can’t stand on my leg. I cut it in the fall, and I think it’s bad.”

Merde…

“Just stay there,” I told her. “I’m going to come to you.”

“Oh, sure,” I heard her say. “Just stay here. As if I could fucking go anywhere…”

I turned to find a way down and swayed in the wind, a shriek of sheer terror crossing my lips. Panic broke out within me, and I knew I had moments to act before I was totally paralyzed with fear.

“I’m fine,” I said before she had a chance to ask. “I’m coming. Don’t move, Beatrice.” I said it as much for myself as for her, and I got down on my hands and knees to move slowly to the place she fell.

Visions of the Italian catacombs, where Bea nearly died and Julien had seemingly fallen to his death, rippled through my memory. I felt a lurch akin to the moment when you’re half-asleep, and you’re dreaming of being dumped out of a boat. But I knew I had no choice. She wouldn't be able to get to safety without me.

To keep myself focused on anything other than the treacherous descent to my sister, I started to recite Treasure Island aloud, knowing every line like it was my own from having read it to Aster so many times.

“... It was Silver's voice, and before I had heard a dozen words, I would not have shown myself for all the world. I lay there, trembling and listening, in the extreme of fear and curiosity, for, in those dozen words, I understood that the lives of all the honest men aboard depended on me alone...”

Bea was only about ten feet away from me now, and all it would take was a small jump to land next to her. But looking straight out, I could see the Aegean sea, open and endless, sparkling in the light of the half-moon, and my body froze up.

“I can’t do it,” I shouted down to her, whimpering. “I’m too scared.”

Bea had pulled herself into a sitting position as I descended. I could see her, hands wrapped around her leg with blood pouring through her fingers.

“Shut the fuck up,” she said. “You don’t get to be scared of this. You’ve been through hell and back. You’ve been fucking death itself, and you expect me to believe you’re going to be stopped by a few rocks? Aster would take this at a run, and she has no idea what you survived to bring her into this world and keep her safe. Get your ass down here, heal me, and let’s finish this. Okay?”

I wasn’t sure if it was her classic Bea gruffness or the truth of the sentiment, but with the echo of the last words she spoke, I pushed myself off the ridge and down into the crevasse, tumbling forward over my feet, but landing safely, nonetheless.

“See?” Bea panted, her face drawn in pain. “I knew you could do it.”

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the twinge in my ankle, and threw my arms around her, eliciting a scream of pain.

“Sorry!”

I released her and knelt down to look at the wound. It was a bloody mess, and I was almost certain bone was showing, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix this right away. Just relax.”

I raised my hands and felt my magic swirl within me. Like always, I pushed the dark magic aside, creating an uninhibited pathway for my “reparéz”. But as I placed my hands where the blood was freely flowing, I realized something was wrong.

“I—”

“Not sure what you’re waiting for, but if it’s for me to die, you might want to speed the process along,” Bea shot at me. She’d already lost a lot of blood, and this faux bravery sent a chill through me. She was in bad shape and trying to keep me from seeing it, but it was like someone had put a stopper on my ability to release my magic. Like a steamy make-out session that ends in your parents—or your sister—bursting into your room.

“I can’t,” I squeaked, still trying and failing to fix her. “It won't come out.”

Bea’s eyes struggled to focus on my face, but I saw her thinking quickly. She leaned forward, pulling her pack from her shoulders, wincing and groaning with each movement.

“Well, then, I’m really glad you always made us think ahead. I grabbed a first aid kit. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but it’s better than nothing.” Her fingers were shaking, so I took the bag and got the kit for her, pulling out anything I might need to close the wound enough to get her on her feet.

“Okay. I’ve got this.” I eyeballed the wound and realized a simple bandage would do nothing for her at this point. Instead, I reached in and pulled out the stitches kit which was buried near the bottom, ripping open the package. “Hold still.”

Bea’s eyes, which had been clenched shut, opened at my words, and she reached for my hand.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. She ripped the needle and thread from my hand, throwing it into the darkness. “Don’t even think about sticking anything in me. I’ve seen you try to fix ripped seams. I want to be able to wear shorts again someday, and I don’t need your stitchwork ruining my legs. There should be a tourniquet in there. Just wrap the wound and tie me off.”

I sat in shock for a moment, then burst out laughing, falling to my hands and knees from the euphoria.

“Oh, Bea… Bea…” I crawled close enough to kiss her cheek. “That would have been something.” I sat back, putting a hand on her shoulder, and realized my laughter also came with tears. I prayed it was too dark for Bea to notice and went to work placing the tourniquet.

“Sure, laugh at the dying girl,” she grumbled, but I saw her face relax as the bleeding slowed. I put a bandage over the wound to keep it clean and helped Bea to her feet. She tested out her leg, wincing slightly, but she gave me a nod. “Let’s do this.”

With a little help to keep Bea balanced, we made our way back to the path right as the sky began to lighten, and we looked toward dawn… and the top of Mount Olympus.

The weather couldn't have been worse when it came to walking across the plains of Nebraska at the end of November. No matter how close Siobhan managed to get us, there always seemed to be a little further to go. She and Julien had been trailing me for the last hour in silence, all three of us exhausted of the freezing weather, and I, particularly, was in a foul mood. The only member of my coven I could stand these days, my daughter, was back at the mansion, under the care of a very overpriced nanny, and I was stuck with the clingiest woman in existence and a moping mess of a brother.

I pitied the next living thing that crossed my path.

My boots were heavy with snow and mud, and my wool-lined pea coat was barely sufficient against the wind whipping through wide open space. My mind was filled with anticipation of the look Lysette would have when she saw my face and of my first look at my child—mine and Lysette’s. I wondered if it was a boy, or if I had another daughter. Would they look like me, or perhaps would be more Lysette’s essence. Dark hair or fiery red? The only thing I could be sure of was the color of their eyes. A shimmering silver like Róisín’s.

Like mine.

Julien and Siobhan whispered tensely behind me, clearly sniping at each other in some way, though I dismissed the annoyance. Nothing would ruin this victory for me.

When we finally reached the tiny homestead, my pulse accelerated with elation, and it took everything I had not to run to the door and kick it in. Lysette would be afraid at first, of course, but I would comfort her and assure her that she would never have to be alone again. In fact, I’d even let Beatrice live.

Anything to get Julien to stop being such a little bitch.

I was mere feet from the door when I realized something felt off. Something vital was missing. I couldn’t feel Lysette. I couldn’t even feel Beatrice.

I shot a look at Julien, and his face told me he was thinking the same thing. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a pained expression in his eyes. Perhaps he, too, thought he would be reunited with his soulmate, regardless of what he said to the contrary whenever it came up.

“I think we’re too late,” he said lamely.

Always one to state the obvious. I momentarily considered choking him out and leaving him for dead in the midwestern snow, but I needed his abilities. The vengeance wasn’t worth losing his talent.

“Brilliant, Chevalier. Make sure you warn me the next time you’re going to say something so earth-shattering.”

I squared up to the door and flicked my wrist to blast it in, the wood shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. I stepped over the debris and entered the cold, empty cabin, Siobhan and Julien keeping close behind me.

But I needed to do this alone.

“Get out,” I demanded.

“But it’s freezing,” protested Siobhan.

“I said get the fuck out.”

They did as they were told, both afraid to cross me further, and I wandered the empty, makeshift home. They had definitely been here, and not long ago either, as I could feel whispers of Lysette’s magic—and the dark magic I’d gifted my daughter—lingering all over. I moved to the bed, lifting a handmade pillow to my face, and pressed it to my nose. It smelled like her, despite the fact that its coldness indicated it had been days since they were here.

Had I been a lesser man, I might have cried. A relief I loathed washed over me. Missing her was the weakest thing I’d ever been or hoped to be again.

You will never have to be weak once we are together.

I placed the pillow back on the bed with a reverence so great that it may as well have been my wife, herself. As I turned away, I spotted a blue ribbon across the floor, near the fireplace, and moved to pick it up. I leveled it with my eyes and noticed several long, red hairs clung to it. I wrapped them around my hand, looking at the way they shone in the dim light.

A girl. Another daughter, then. She had red hair, like me. Darker than my own, but red nonetheless.

Visions of her conception danced across my mind, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold rippled down my body. I needed Lysette. Needed to hear her voice, feel her touch, kiss her lips…

On the table nearby sat a crumpled piece of paper. I unfolded it to find a name and a phone number, and my heart thudded firm against my ribs, not having expected to find such an obvious clue.

Sebastian Mendes. My former colleague whose lack of discretion played a part in me being excommunicated from the White Orchid, and Lysette’s mistake when we first split. I wanted to kill him the moment I found out, but I didn’t think it would soften Lysette to the idea of my return. They must have fled to his protection when they felt the wave of power that was released at the activation of the ring.

I turned to leave and felt a crack beneath my foot. I moved my boot to the side to find one of Bea’s handmade iron knives. Not one of her good ones, but one she wouldn’t have been afraid to lose. My temper flared, remembering the last interaction she and I had, and I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket to handle it. I tucked the ribbon and my daughter’s hairs into my other pocket and carried the knife out like I was handling a dead mouse.

“Julien,” I called to him before throwing the knife at his feet. “I think your wife left us a present, the conniving bitch.” I felt his magic flex in odd ways as he saw the iron, but he knew better than to say anything. “This is a bust. Time for plan B.”

I held up the paper to Julien and watched his expression shift as he realized what I was suggesting. No—insisting. I saw the flicker of fear, the desire to tell me no. He knew Sebastian as well as the girls did, Mendes having once taken my place in the little foursome. But he knew trying to sway my intention was futile, and, instead, nodded and began to walk away.

“I don’t know why he’s always in such a mood,” Siobhan grumbled. “He won’t even look at me when he fucks me anymore, when he actually even does it. I spend more nights with you than with him these days.” She gave me a pointed look, her displeasure at the infrequency of our own encounters evident. She was in a mood herself, having received so little of my attention lately—and seemingly as little of Julien’s—and she stepped closer, reaching to put her hands in my coat pockets. I, however, swatted them away and instead took hold of her wrist.

You are so close, agape mou. So close to the moment when my power will make us both the rulers—the gods—we were always meant to be.

“We’re going to DC,” I demanded. “Get us as close as you can, and we can fly the rest of the way. Julien, are you coming, or are you determined to die on the frozen plains?”

He froze where he stood, his hands flexing at his sides as he debated a fight, but then pivoted and walked back to us, his face once more blank. The desire to act a brat and refuse to deliver on her duty passed through Siobhan’s mind as clear as day, but she was smart enough to know I was in no mood to be fucked with.

She nodded, took our hands, and we were gone.

I leaned heavily on my trekking poles, the pain in my leg unwavering as we made it to the end of the trail. I looked over at Lysette, whose face was troubled.

“Anything?” I asked her.

She shook her head.

“I can’t even feel my magic anymore,” she said. Her voice was clear, but I could tell she was freaked. I knew that feeling all too well—the emptiness, the grasping at nothing where there once was power. Until I lost it, I didn’t even realize how much a part of me it was and how much I relied on it.

“Let’s take it as a good sign,” I suggested, though knowing Lysette wouldn’t be able to fix me if I had another mishap gave me goosebumps, and not the fun kind. I’d been saying the same thing for over an hour, trying to keep us both from falling into despair. I held tight to the hope the ashes were nearby, and that it was their power keeping Lysette from using her own.

We stood at the top of a small peak and looked around. There were any number of ways we could go, any number of places there could be a hidden cave.

“What now?” I asked Lysette. “Do we really think no one else ever tried to climb up here before? Someone would have found this cave long before now.”

Lysette crossed her arms and looked around. “I don’t know. Maybe you can activate your spidey senses? Sniff out the ashes like the relic bloodhound you are?”

“Clytius was created to counter Hecate. Anything connecting me to her is canceled out by whatever is blocking your magic,” I reminded her. “Can’t you, I don't know, walk back and forth and see if you feel your power getting stronger or weaker in any one direction?”

We’d been going back and forth like this for a while, and nothing seemed to work. I sat down, frustrated, and buried my face in my hands, exhaustion threatening to claim me and making it hard to wrap my head around a plan.

“You don’t think this was a setup, do you?” I heard Lysette ask. She was looking out over the water, rolling her shoulders, anxiety radiating from her. “Get us far enough out of the way, and then—” She broke off, turning away from the sea and walking back to me quickly like she wanted to get away from the thought.

Her fears weren’t only hers. I’d had the same thought for hours but hadn’t wanted to voice it. By being here, we’d already taken the risk. Now that we were all the way up here, we would never make it back in time to stop an ambush on Aster. We had to hope we made the right call, which meant carrying on.

I pushed myself back to my feet, wincing in pain. Even with the tourniquet, which was placed looser than it should have been to make sure I could still walk, the bandage on my leg was nearly soaked through, and blood had begun to drip down my leg. I reached down to wipe it away, then rubbed my hand on my pants.

“Come on,” I said. “Nothing for it. We have to keep going.”

She nodded, then stepped cautiously off the trail and onto sheer stone. I kept close behind her, each of us ready to grab the other in case we fell, overly cautious after my tumble. We rounded the peak until we were well out of sight of any of the trails, and, suddenly, I heard Lysette make a noise.

“What’s that?”

I looked toward where she was pointing, and I saw an opening that would never be visible unless you’d come this way and been right on top of it. We scrambled into the entrance, which was no more than a five by five hole, not even tall enough for me to stand. Even Lysette barely fit, petite as she was.

It was empty.

I ran my hands over every inch of the place, hoping to find any kind of hidden opening, but nothing happened. Lysette did the same thing with the same result, and it was only a couple of minutes before we both gave up.

“Dammit,” I swore, trying to think, but my head was too foggy from blood loss to figure out what to do now. I turned, ready to ask Lysette if she had any other ideas, and slipped in a slick of blood dripping from my now crimson bandage. My injured leg gave out, and I fell to the ground. Lysette was kneeling by my side in an instant as I grabbed at the wound and saw my hand come away covered in crimson. I gritted my teeth, no longer concerned with the pain, but knowing if we didn’t get back to civilization soon—or at least to where Lysette could use her magic—the blood loss would be too great.

I looked back at her, and she seemed to have the same concern I did. She reached for my hand to pull me to my feet, but I waved hers away, reaching out to brace myself against the wall as I stood.

The second my hand touched the back wall of the cave, a crack rattled my eardrums, and the wall began to shift, sinking into the floor of the cave and out of sight, revealing a stone staircase which seemed to lead into the heart of the mountain.

We moved slowly to the top of it, looking down, but it was so dark we may as well have been blindfolded. Past the first ten steps, it was nothing but a void, one that could contain anything—or anyone.

Lysette and I looked at each other and reached up, in unison, to turn on our headlamps.

“I’ll go first,” she said, taking a step forward, but I grabbed her arm.

“No way. If there’s something down there… Well, if only one of us makes it out, it should be you.” She opened her mouth to protest, but I shot her down quickly. “We can’t keep having this fight. You’re Aster’s mother and the best bet she has against… him. Knives or no, your magic is the best weapon at our disposal. Besides, I’ll never make it down without you.”

“Not with your leg looking like that dog with three heads that guards the underworld took a chomp out of it,” she murmured as she stepped aside to let me in front of her.

“His name is Cerberus,” I said quietly as we began the slow descent, her remaining about five steps behind me. “You got two degrees at NCU, and didn’t take a single Greek mythology course.”

“Looking back, it seems like an oversight,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “If I’d known we would be living it, I definitely would have taken at least one.”

I took about twenty steps when the stairs began to turn around a corner I couldn’t see past.

“Stay there,” I called back. “Don’t come until I give the all clear.”

It didn’t take long. The second I rounded the curve, I was in a circular vestibule, facing a large stone chest on a raised platform.

“I think I found it,” I shouted. “Come look.”

Lysette’s footsteps pounded on the stone, and she was at my side in seconds. I glanced sideways at her with a half-smirk.

“You don’t mind if I do the honors, do you? Seems only fair considering I have to share a bloodline with him.”

She leveled a deadpan stare at me. “It’s your leg that’s going to have to be cut off if we don’t go fast enough, so by all means, Beatrice.”

I laughed, a little lightheaded and loopy, and kissed her quickly on the cheek before limping forward to the chest, but I couldn’t see any kind of opening. I pressed my hands to the stone, trying to see if it would open as the doorway did, but nothing happened. I ran my fingers over every inch, but there was nothing, no way to open it.

“We could smash it…” I said, pulling a small pickaxe from my pack.

“And send the ashes that work like iron on steroids all over this place?” She gaped at me. “Use your brain, Beatrice.”

She was right. I’d managed to get this room open just by touching it. I could figure out the chest, too.

Well, only one thing had been different upstairs. One difference between when I touched the wall and now.

I looked back at Lysette with a shrug, then placed my hand on my scarlet-soaked bandage again and smeared my blood across the lid. It sat there, doing nothing for a moment. Then, as if it was drinking my life, I watched it fade into nothing, sucked into the stone, which cracked down the middle and slid open. I looked down into the chest and gasped, pulling my hand back quickly, like I’d nearly touched a hot stove.

“Shit, Lysette…”

“What?” she asked, moving swiftly to my side. She followed my gaze, then took a step back. “Merde alors…”

The chest was filled with what appeared to be iron powder.

My mind was racing. Clytius was created to counter Hecate’s power. Iron negated magic, a fact I’d relied on for years in my pursuit of dark witches. If Clytius and his ashes were made of iron—if, in fact, iron potentially came from him—it made sense that an abundance of the element would prevent us from using our magic.

“So, uh…” I stammered. “How do we get them out?” My entire being recoiled, just from being this close to them. I had no desire to touch them, knowing how bad it would hurt.

Lysette looked around, then walked to something across the room I hadn’t noticed before. There was a small altar covered in urns depicting the war in which Clytius was killed, when Hecate earned her place in the Pantheon. Above it hung a long golden chain with a tiny, empty vial on the end of it. She reached up and pulled it down.

“I guess we use this,” she said, handing it to me.

The opening was small, and I worried I would spill it on myself if I just went for it, so I reached over her shoulder to pull out a silicone cup from her pack, then turned and scooped up some of the ashes. I used the cup to fill the vial, but a little spilled onto my hands anyway, and I drew in a sharp breath.

“Ow!” I gasped, nearly dropping the vial. My skin tingled and burned where it touched. I sealed the vial, then handed it to Lysette so I could wipe my hands clean, even though the sensation lingered. “That was unpleasant.” I chuckled darkly, watching Lysette closely. I didn’t know if she would pick up on the fact that, without magic, it shouldn’t have affected me, and I was terrified of the consequences if she did.

But she was focused, holding up the vial, examining the contents.

“I guess this is it, right? It doesn’t seem like much.”

“Neither do you, shrimpy,” I joked. “But I’ve seen what you can do. Badass things come in tiny, unassuming packages. Now, can we please get off this mountain before I pass out?”

***

The descent went by quickly, and we barely made it halfway down when Lysette felt her magic return. The ashes remained secured inside the vial rather than having us exposed to them, and she managed to heal my leg. I was still weak from losing so much blood, but we sat down for a quick lunch at a little restaurant in Prionia, where I gorged myself on lamb and potatoes, with a large piece of baklava for dessert.

By dinner, we were back at Delphi. I raised my hand to knock on the door, but Sybil answered before I could.

“Well done,” she beamed, leading us back inside to where Aster was watching a movie.

“Momma! Bea!” she squealed when she saw us. She leaped into Lysette’s arms, and the two embraced each other so tightly that I thought they might never let go.

As I walked past the television, I saw that she had managed to find Muppets: Treasure Island and smiled. It was her favorite book, after all, and it made me happy to see her enjoying it in a whole new way.

Lysette spent the next two hours just holding her daughter, but when Aster finally drifted off to sleep in her arms, she put her to bed and came back into the kitchen where Sybil and I sat. The oracle hadn’t seen our climb because of the magical dampening from the ashes, so I’d filled her in.

Lysette had the vial around her neck, and when she sat beside me, Sybil held out her hand.

“May I?” Lysette handed it to her, and she turned it over in her hands. “Interesting.”

“What is?” Lysette asked, her eyelids heavy and her voice thick with exhaustion. She looked as tired as I felt.

“The etchings on the glass here. You see?” She pointed to them, and I recognized the shape.

“Hecate’s Wheel?” I asked, running my finger over it.

The wheel turns on…

“Mm,” Sybil confirmed. “That’s why the ashes aren’t dampening our magic right now. The wheel is keeping it in check.” She handed the vial to Lysette, who put the chain back around her neck.

“So, what do we do with it?” I asked. “Just throw it at Éiren?”

Sybil laughed. I chuckled too, though I’d only been half joking.

“Oh, I do enjoy your company,” she gushed. “But no. You need to create something that would be the ring’s equal using the artifacts of Hecate’s enemy.”

“Artifacts?” My mouth fell open. “Plural? Like, more than one?”

Sybil smiled serenely and nodded. “Only one more, I believe. Clytius’s cloak. You’ll need to combine their essence in a cleansing fire along with something else—something of yours—to harness his power.”

How fucking unhelpful. Not only did we have another damn quest, when I’d had enough of that for a lifetime—for several lifetimes—but she couldn’t even tell me what the final piece was other than it was “mine.” I glared at her, but Lysette spoke first.

“Where is this cloak?”

“Sicily,” Sybil said, opening a laptop and pulling up a map of Trapani before pointing to a location. “Here. Hecate’s earliest followers had a temple they only recently began to dig up. They kept that nasty old piece of leopard fur under heavy guard until, over time, they forgot what they were guarding.”

“And what do we do once we get it?” I asked wearily.

She opened a new tab and showed us a map of—

“Arizona?” Lysette seemed as confused as I was. “What’s there?”

“Energy portals. To non-magic folk, they’re just a tourist trap, a fun place to visit, to try to find something mystical. But they’re very real. As much as iron is like throwing a blanket on a fire, the portals are like throwing gasoline on one. It amplifies magic while you’re in its presence.”

The idea gave me a bigger thrill than I cared to admit. I wondered if going there might help spark my magic, bring it back to me, or if it would just amplify the darkness in me. It was tempting and terrifying.

I pulled out my phone, looking up how to get to Sicily, and within half an hour, we were booked on a flight for the next day. With the loss of blood and the exhaustion from the trek, I felt myself fading quickly, and I stood to go to bed. Lysette rose beside me, but Sybil grabbed my hand. When I turned to look at her, her eyes had gone white again, and she spoke in a low, monotone voice.

“To have everything you want, to achieve what you need, you must sacrifice all you have.”

I pulled my hand free, stunned by her words.

“What did you say?” I gasped. I’d heard those exact words in my broken memory of Ysabel only a few days ago.

Sybil shook her head, and her eyes and voice went back to normal.

“Sorry about that,” she giggled. “Sometimes the visions don’t want to wait for me to tell them in my own way.”

“No,” I insisted, feeling Lysette’s concerned gaze on me. “I just… I’ve heard that before.”

Sybil still didn’t seem concerned. “Well, that sounds like Hecate, if you ask me,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“It wasn’t. It was in a dream.”

“Yes, dear. That still sounds like her.”

I growled in frustration.

“It wasn’t Hecate. It was…” I glanced at Lysette, knowing how hard she’d taken Ysabel’s death. “It was an old friend. A psychic who was with our coven until she was killed.”

Sybil kept smiling and leaned forward.

“And just where do you think Hecate had been all these centuries? Trapped in an earthbound body, reincarnated over and over as a crone, and now freed by Éiren Connolly. And unless you want her raining unholy fire on you and everyone else, you’d better get moving and destroy that ring.”

***

I lay awake for longer than I thought possible that night, given I’d been going for well over thirty-six hours, but the idea that Ysabel—crazy old Ysabel—was actually Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft and my ancestor, living in the same house as me for centuries, and I never knew, was enough to rob anyone of sleep. All the times I’d been alone with Ysabel, tending to her needs and dealing with her rambling nonsense, and she never said anything.

“It was not for you to know.”

I sat up and saw her standing by the window, the light of the moon creating a halo around her. Her skin was nearly as dark as the night. Her hair was cropped close to her head, and a simple white cloth—no, not white. It glimmered faintly with gold in the moonlight, draped around her tall, lithe figure, which was more androgynous than I might have expected. She wore gold bangles around her wrists, ankles, and neck, and her ears bore gold hoops.

She was absolutely beautiful.

“Hecate,” I breathed, unsure how I was even able to find air to fill my lungs. I flew from the bed to kneel at her feet, reaching for her hand to kiss it in supplication, but she pulled it away.

“Rise, Beatrice,” she said in a voice so icy it sent chills through me. I did as commanded and saw she was looking at me as one might look at a cockroach. “Still fighting my gift?”

“Gift?” I repeated lamely. “My gift is gone. All that’s left is—”

“My gift,” she interrupted, “is all magic. The dark magic you’ve been so intent on eradicating comes from me as surely as the magic you think is gone. It’s all there, and once you accept that using all of it is your birthright, you might begin to be worthy of being of my blood.”

I was stunned. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. There was no way the darkness I’d seen turn so many into unfeeling, uninhibited power junkies came from the same source as the fire and ice I’d once called upon so easily.

“Hecate—”

“Silence, child,” she scolded. “You are far weaker than I thought. Use the gift I’ve given you or don’t. I truly don’t care. My power is endless and eternal. Whether I am controlled by Éiren Connolly, you, or by no one at all, it matters not. The magic is all the same at its core. When I was cast out from Olympus, when they discovered my lover had been a Titan, the very one created to destroy me, my essence was caged in that ring. My power, the power only I once possessed and offered to my followers as a gift, spread out through the world, granting magic to those fit to receive it. Your forebears sought to keep it that way, to prevent me from reclaiming what was mine and rising once more. And I will.”

I blinked, trying to take in all she was saying. Magic had been hers, and hers alone, until she’d been banished. When she was, her power had been divided among those we now called witches, and she’d been trapped in human forms until Éiren began to set her godly one free from the ring.

But what would happen if he finished the job?

“The magic was stolen from me,” she said, answering the question I hadn’t spoken aloud. “I am in every witch, and as long as magic endures, so will I. But I will stop at nothing to reclaim what was mine. Everything that was mine. By force if I have to. Magic never belonged to any of you, and I will have it back. And then… I will rule over all, with my lover at my side, no matter what form he takes now. The wheel turns on, and nothing can stop it. Not even you.”

Something slammed into me, and I barely had time to register that she’d blasted me with a force greater than I’d ever experienced. I was thrown backward with a scream, and as my head impacted with the wall behind me, I sat up in bed, covered in sweat and tears.

A dream, after all, I thought gratefully, as the morning light came through the window where I dreamed I’d seen her. Still, it stuck with me. The idea that my ancestors on each side, Hecate and Clytius, had been lovers, that she had been removed from the pantheon because of it, and that my magic—all magic—only existed in witches because of it, made my head spin.

Not only that, but the Goddess my mother always spoke reverently of was the very thing she was protecting the ring from. So she couldn’t come back and take the magic away from witches, something she seemed certain she would do. I shivered as I thought about her comment about her lover and the “form” he took now.

She couldn’t mean… Éiren?

But if it was only a dream, none of that mattered. With a shiver and a resolution to dwell on it later, after we stopped him from destroying everything I’d ever known, I climbed out of bed and started to get dressed before turning to the door. I almost didn’t notice it at first, but when I did, a sick lurch rocked my body.

Just opposite the window, I saw the spot on the wall where the plaster was dented—perfectly level with where my head had hit.

One more nightmare that was all too real.

I was getting really tired of doing airport crowds and swore to myself that, once this was all over, I’d take a decade off of travel and settle down somewhere near the Pacific Ocean with a nice view. I’d have to rebuild the White Orchid house anyway, so I might as well move it somewhere that would be a clean slate rather than filled with dark memories of sadness and betrayal.

The Ionian Sea looked like a sheet of aquamarine below us. The crests of the waves seemed to move in tandem from this high up, and it made me think of the waves I used to watch from my bedroom window back in North Carolina.

A stabbing pain shot through my heart when I allowed myself to give thought to how it had been nearly ten years since Bea and I set foot in the state that was our home for so long—knowing that, no matter what the outcome was of this journey, it would never be our home again.

But on the other hand, Bea was my home, her and Aster. Together, we could rebuild the coven and our family, or not. We could be enough. As long as I had the two of them, I would never feel lost.

I was pleased to find a significant decrease in the number of people in the airport in Trapani, and we were out onto the Sicilian streets minutes after grabbing our luggage. I wanted to stay at a beautiful little house on the cliffs of the sea, but Bea insisted it was a waste and, instead, booked us a tiny motel room near the town center.

“The more people around us and the less we stick to old habits, the harder we are to find,” she insisted.

There was a lot of truth to what she said. If whoever Éiren might send to find us—assuming he didn’t show up, himself, as he always seemed to—managed to discover what city we were in, it was wise to be rooming at a place I’d typically never be caught dead in.

Dinner that night was wine, cheese, and olives, chased by a couple sleeping pills. Bea and I were both keenly aware of what occurred the last time we were in Italy, despite neither of us saying so. Even with the double whammy of downers, my sleep was restless and spotty, but around dawn, I fell into a deep sleep at last, finding myself dreaming of Hiroshima.

Éiren’s fingers danced across my body, and I gasped as he found places on my thighs I could swear had never been touched before. His lips were at my throat, and he ran his teeth lightly across the skin.

“Will you be weak for me, Lysette?” he breathed into my ear.

That wasn’t from this memory…

“What?” I moaned softly as he toyed with me.

“I will take them from you, one by one, until I’m the only thing you have left in the world,” he said against my breastbone, kissing his way down my skin, once more breaking through the veil of what should have been a happy memory, if not for what I now knew about it. That and the way he spoke the words I’d watched Julien “die” and Bea get beaten half to death to.

“No,” I insisted halfheartedly, hating myself for giving into these delusions that there was hope for him—for us, even in what I knew to be a dream filled with nightmare fuel. “You don’t need to do that. We can find a way to make this better. There’s still time to fix things.”

“You’re not wearing your ring,” he said in a way that was more of a question than a statement. The exact way he did when he was kneeling in a pool of Bea’s blood after slitting her throat.

“I lost it,” I said groggily, losing my grip on what was real and what was imagined. “I threw it away…”

“No,” he said slowly, with a deep chuckle, “No, Lysette. You could never lose what is mine and yours. Never. I have it right here.”

I opened my eyes into his, my heart pounding with the love I’d felt for so long, the love I’d sworn to rid myself of but knew I never would. The love that plagued my every waking moment, even the ones where I entertained the knowledge that I would likely have to kill him.

He held up the ring he’d given me right before his treachery was revealed.

Well, not just the ring.

He held up a severed hand with the ring in the palm, covered with blood. Even as I tried to pull away from the gruesome gift, he took it and placed it on my finger, even as the appendage he still held dripped freely. The thick, warm droplets fell onto my skin, my lips, into my mouth, which opened with a gasp when I saw the other ring on the hand.

Ruby and sapphire.

Bea’s ring…

I jolted awake, sitting up in bed so fast my hair whipped against my face. I was sweating, and I couldn’t help but look at my ring finger with horror. But it was bare, as it had been for years. I heard Bea stir and put my hand over my mouth in an attempt to stifle my heavy breathing.

I failed.

“Lys…?” she asked, her voice hoarse from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

I could feel the weight of her questioning expression and knew I needed to be careful with my words. The last time we were in Italy, and I was having these kinds of dreams, Éiren had been stalking us. I prayed to any being who might be listening that he wasn’t now.

“It’s… nothing.,” I panted quietly, not wanting to wake Aster. “Just forgot where I was for a minute.” I knew the lie was thinly veiled and hoped Bea was tired enough to not realize I was trembling.

Her expression grew more alert as she looked me up and down, her mouth tightening into a thin line. “Oh. Okay,” she said quietly, her shrewd eyes watching me, but she let out a long sigh. “Try to get some more rest, Lys. We’ve had enough missteps. We don’t need to add exhaustion to our list of troubles. We can’t afford to make sloppy mistakes.” She laid back down but kept her gaze on me. She was letting me off the hook, not forcing me to recount my nightmare, and I knew it. Bea and I had been together long enough to know when the other one was lying, and when it mattered to call them out on it.

Like when she lied about how she got hurt before we left.

I had no idea what the truth was, but I’d done enough healing to recognize different kinds of wounds when I saw them, and hers was a small, perfectly round puncture, like a bullet. Where and how she got a bullet wound, and how she managed to present it to me with some level of healing already done was beyond me, but I trusted her. Which meant that, if she felt like it was a secret she needed to keep, I trusted she would tell me when it mattered.

I pulled Aster tightly against me and kissed her head. It might have been my imagination, but she seemed so relaxed, so peaceful. She didn’t cling to me the way she always did, and indeed, she quickly pushed me away in favor of cuddling into her pillow. I sighed deeply at the situation, realizing she was growing up before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Thankfully, the sleeping pills and alcohol did their job and sent me back into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

The morning broke sooner than I anticipated, and it was the sounds of Aster and Bea eating which finally roused me. I looked at my phone and saw it was eleven fifteen. I’d slept until nearly noon.

“Bea,” I said angrily, sitting up sharply, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

She shot me a look that dared me to challenge her and nodded her head toward Aster.

“You seemed like you needed the sleep,” she returned with equal irritation. “Besides, it clearly doesn’t matter when we get started. We’re going to have to B-R-E-A-K in, no matter what.”

“I can spell,” Aster said with indignation, waving her spoon at Bea.

“Too right, you can, baby.” I gave Bea a pointed look that told her my mood wasn’t improving with this latest oversight. “Maybe Bea needs to think about things before she says them.”

“Maybe your momma should realize we can’t hide everything from you forever. Especially when you’re going to be involved,” Bea shot back, keeping her tone neutral in front of Aster, though her eyes spoke a million words of how she felt.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, taking a breath and holding it. This wasn’t worth the fight, not now. We could revisit how to handle sensitive topics around Aster when lives weren’t on the line.

For now… I’d have to let it happen.

“So, where are we going now?” I asked her.

Bea pulled out a map and laid it on the table. She’d drawn a circle around a spot not too far from here and pointed to it.

“Here. The dig has been ongoing for years, but this is where the oldest evidence of Hecate’s cult was found. The cult had the cloak, so this is our only lead.”

Perfect.

“Then, perhaps we should get a move on from our leisurely breakfast and get on the road? I’m not trying to ruin your fun, but I’m damn well ready to go home.”

“‘Damn!’ Momma said ‘damn!’” Aster said with a low, delighted giggle to Bea, who giggled right back.

“Yes, she did,” Bea said, giving Aster a smirk, but her eyes were soft when they met mine. Her words were directed at Aster, but she kept looking at me as she spoke. “But I think Momma has a good point, and we should eat quickly and get moving. Time to be good pirates!”

I smiled despite one more heartbreak as the child I’d spent so long shielding from the pain and reality of life took to these new moral ambiguities with enthusiasm. I swatted Aster on the backside as she ran past me to get changed in the bathroom, then walked to where Bea was slurping down the milk from her cereal and took Aster’s now empty seat.

“We’re almost there,” I sighed. “It’s almost time to end this.” My dream was still fresh in my mind, and with the final showdown imminent, the conversation needed to happen. “I know you want to be the one to… finish him. But I need you to promise me you will let me do it. It’s my fault he got here to begin with.”

Bea set her bowl down and wiped her mouth, giving me a flat stare. I watched her chest heave up and down a few times as she weighed my request.

“I promise… unless I have no other choice.” She looked away from me toward where Aster had vanished through the door. “As long as she’s safe, I’ll let you do it. As long as you promise you won’t be reckless, and as long as it doesn’t destroy you. She needs you to come out on the other side. We both do. Deal?”

I reached for her hand, the entire topic terrifying. I didn’t want to leave Aster, but I was more scared of her being left alone. If I failed, if Bea failed, she’d be at the mercy of the man who’d use her to suit his own means, just the way he did to everyone around him.

“She needs you, too, you know. You’re the only family she has besides me, and the only one who will know what it’s like to have him for a father, even an absent one.” Shame washed over me in spades. I knew what he was like, and still… I allowed him to create another life that might be broken because of him.

Not just allowed him…

Helped him.

I felt Bea’s eyes on me, and I brushed some hair behind my ear as I tried to think of something to say to explain the look on my face.

“Does Aster have good enough shoes to trudge through an excavation?”

Bea studied me for a minute, the expression startlingly familiar, but instead of demanding answers, she walked around the table and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

“Her shoes are fine,” she said before moving so she could see my face. “Lysette… you need to forgive yourself. You may not know what it’s like to have him as a father, but I know what it’s like to have you as a mother. I know, I know, sister, but my point stands. Being raised by you is much more important than being sired by him. Give yourself credit for all the good you’ve done. I do.”

I felt like I was going to cry under the weight of all her praise, even if it was unwarranted for reasons she couldn’t possibly know. I would never tell how her a small, deeply buried part of me allowed myself five minutes a day to daydream about Éiren and I raising Aster together, as a family. But knowing she thought I had done something right… it was as good as any daydream by far.

“Thanks, Bea,” I whispered, looking up to the ceiling to keep tears from falling. “Ugh. Let's get going before I turn into a sobbing, emotional mess.”

“I’m ready!” said a tiny voice from the doorway, and I turned to find Aster had dressed herself in my clothes—a dress, a sunhat, and the one pair of couture heels I still owned.

The tension broke, and Bea and I burst into laughter before I rushed my sweet, clever daughter and set her down on the bed. She continued to giggle as I opened the suitcase.

“Not like this, you’re not.”

***

Later that afternoon, Bea and I found ourselves and Aster waiting impatiently amongst a bunch of hedges to break into the official dig site. Much to our surprise, there were guards stationed all around the site, and we were going to have to wait until, once again, a cover of darkness could be provided.

Aster was handling the required silence well, simply laying in the grass and plucking at individual blades, letting them catch and fly away on the breeze. But Bea was restless, and I had to tell her, on more than one occasion, to stop pacing.

“Just let me go distract the guard,” she begged again, desperate for something to do. “You slip past, then I’ll find my own way in.”

“Not until it’s dark,” I said in a hushed bark.

Sure enough, we had to repeat this conversation twice more before night sufficiently consumed the sky and grounds, and I could tell Bea to go forth and accomplish what she’d been so eager to do.

“Aster and I will try to find a way in from the back,” I told her. “I saw the rear guard leave thirty minutes ago.”

Bea smiled, glad to be able to actually do something, then kissed Aster on the head before she went to find the poor soul on whom she would unleash decades of practice in seducing, luring the idiot fly back to her web.

He must have been closer than I realized, because I could hear Bea talking to him through the hedge.

“Buongiorno,” she greeted in Italian, one of her specialties from back in the sixties, her voice a low purr as she leaned in seductively.

I fought the urge to cover Aster’s ears to protect her from this revolting but hilarious display.

“Buonasera, Signorina,” the guard said. “Mi dispiace, ma devo chiederti di andartene. Non puoi stare qui.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s the limit of my Italian,” Bea replied, sounding genuinely confused, as though she wasn’t fluent. I peeked through the leaves to watch as she stepped close to him and played with a tendril of hair she’d pulled forward. “I must be lost. Could you maybe show me the way to… oh, damn it. I can’t even remember the word.” She stepped even closer, fluttering her eyelashes. “I need… aiutare?”

I stifled a laugh as she intentionally butchered the word. No wonder she was always so successful at luring in dark magic witches to kill them, especially the men. She knew exactly how to play them—let them feel like a hero, like the strongest, smartest person in the room.

The guard’s eyes were drawn right where Bea intended—to the low cut V of her shirt, right where she was holding the hair.

“Si, Signorina,” he said, clearing his throat. “This way.” He started to lead her away, but she stumbled into him.

“Ow!” I heard her cry out.

“Signorina! Stai bene? Are you okay?”

She grimaced, grabbing for her ankle. She looked up toward him, and her eyes caught mine, giving me the slightest wink before returning her attention to him.

“I hurt my leg,” she groaned. “I think I tripped on something…” She started to stand, but stumbled into him again the moment her foot hit the ground.

“Here,” the guard said, his tanned skin growing ruddy as he wrapped an arm around Bea’s waist. She leaned into him far more than necessary as she wrapped an arm around his neck.

“Graci,” she said in a wholly American accent with a very un-Bea-like giggle. The sound seemed to grab Aster’s attention, and she poked her own face through the hedge just in time to see Bea lean in close enough to press her lips to the guard’s cheek. He gasped and tightened his grip on her middle, turning his face to hers, leaning closer. “You’re so strong…”

I grabbed Aster and dragged her away from the scene, not wanting to plant any ideas in her head about what might happen next. With the guard sufficiently distracted, we ducked out of the shadows and through the tiny courtyard ahead of us, Aster keeping up like a natural.

In a weird, sick moment of glee, I grew giddy over my daughter’s aptitude for mischief. But remembering mischief could also manifest in ways much like her sister used to partake in, I stopped that train of thought in its path.

We managed to get through the back gate and down a wooden ramp into the dig site when I heard a loud moan from the guard and pulled Aster to me to cover her ears, hoping it wouldn’t keep going. Thankfully, it was only moments later when Bea’s face came into view, and I gave her an incredulous look.

“Not a word,” she said with a shudder, holding up a finger as she pressed her other fist to her mouth.

“What did you do?”

She tossed me a keyring and a walkie talkie, then glanced at Aster, guarding her words.

“I… gave him a little thrill, then left him unconscious and in a rather… compromising position.”

I gasped in horror and slapped her across the shoulder, then knelt in front of Aster. “Baby… Promise me, no matter what, you will never let Bea give you advice about boys.”

Aster wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue.

“Boys are gross,” she said. “I saw some at the airport, hitting each other for fun. Are they all like that?”

“Yes, baby. Yes, they are.” I stood and looked Bea in the eye on that, and she shrugged.

“No arguments here. Boys are gross. Especially that one.” She gave a small retch before catching herself. “Let’s just say those uniform pants left things a little ripe…”

I gagged, and Aster looked confused, not understanding the meaning, whatsoever.

“You’re gross,” I said to her with a glare letting her know the conversation was over. “Come on.” We walked down a second ramp and pushed aside some plywood to get inside a marble alcove. “Headlamps on, all.” Aster giggled happily as she pressed the button to turn on her own headlamp and took delight in spinning in a circle, letting the light bounce around the room, but we didn’t have time for play. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas about where to go from here?” I looked to Bea, and she looked around the site, her brow furrowed as she thought.

“I think we need to split up,” she groaned, glancing down two separate hallways leading off in opposite directions. “If we try to stick together, it could take all night to search, and we still might not find what we need.”

I nodded and took a breath. I had a decision to make. With every ounce of trust I had, I put Aster’s hand into Bea’s.

“Stay with Bea,” I instructed her. “I’ll go right, and you go left, okay?”

Aster looked concerned at the idea of not remaining together, but Bea lifted her and spun her in a circle.

“I bet we can find it before Mommy. What do you think?”

Aster’s face lit up at the prospect of making it a game, and she took off, dragging Bea along behind her.

I watched after them, feeling sentimental. Memories of the two of them going off into the woods together to explore, to play adventurers, ran through my mind. Eight years of innocence and safety, and now, my daughter was part of yet another quest to keep her father from terrible deeds.

They went off down the corridor to the right, as I’d directed, and, once they were out of sight, I started on my own path. The air was filled with dust, and I seemed to have a sneezing fit every ten seconds.

About fifteen minutes into wandering the pathways which had been clumsily carved out, I came across something that seemed like it had been missed. A tiny wooden door that barely came up to my knee and was just wide enough that a fully grown adult could fit through it.

I thought about calling out to Bea but worried it might be premature. Instead, I kneeled down and used my leg strength to lean left and kick my right foot into the ancient wood, breaking through it much more easily than I imagined I would. I had to drop down onto my belly to peer inside, but I could see something at the back of the large room that looked vaguely like an altar.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

Slowly, I crawled through the large hole, barely squeezing my hips through. But I did get there eventually, and when I got to my feet, the stale, dead air permeated the flesh of my lungs. It was thick and rank, and I had to use my shirt to cover my mouth.

Step by step, I navigated the rubble, and when I finally reached the structure, I realized there was a length of thick fabric folded atop it. Fabric which was matted and unthinkably old and covered in—

“Leopard spots,” I breathed.

Carefully, I lifted the fur cloak, tucking it under my arm with excitement. That was so much quicker and simpler than I had anticipated. We could finally get out of here and finish this, armed with the tools to keep him from harming any of us. I would finally be free of the fear he represented in my life, and we could have a home once more, one that didn’t come with the daily worry of being found.

“Bea!” I yelled, nearly laughing with relief. “I found it. I can’t belie—”

I had just knelt to slide back through the hole which would lead to the tunnels once more when a few tiny rocks came crumbling down onto my shoulders, and a sound like boulders sliding filled the air.

WHAM!

I barely had time to get out of the way when a massive slab of stone fell before me, blocking my way out of the chamber.

Fuck…

It was the last coherent thought I had before something hard and deadly smacked me on the head as the ceiling started to fall. My vision blurred, and I tried to pull at the chunk of marble now blocking my escape, but my vision had doubled, and my body seemed reluctant to respond to my commands.

And then, everything began to collapse around me.

“Bea!” I screamed once again, hoping she could hear me, making it a command so she would hopefully know, even if she couldn’t hear me. “Run!”

The rock and rubble fell in earnest, crushing me, piece by piece.

Then everything went dark, not even a moment to think my goodbyes.

I stood, flanked by Siobhan and Julien, staring at a bound and gagged Sebastian, trying to decide the kind of death he deserved. The sadist in me longed to peel his skin off him in layers, just to remind him whose girl he’d fucked. Lysette had always been mine and always would be, and this filth had touched her, fucked her, possibly even loved her.

I pulled away the cloth gag long enough to let him speak, and he choked out a sob, looking straight at—not me—but Julien.

“I’m sorry,” he bawled. “I’m sorry. Bea was upset. She said you weren’t together. I didn’t know you were working things out. I never would have… Not if I knew.”

“Look at me,” I demanded, grabbing his chin. “Why would you address Jules before me? The man you stole from.”

“You…” he coughed, and a trickle of blood fell from the corner of his mouth. “You already knew. About Lysette. I thought… I thought this was about Bea, too.”

“Beatrice? Why?”

He looked between Julien and me, shaking head to toe like the soggy little bitch boy he was. “I… Because we… Because she and I…”

I let out a single cold, cruel laugh. “You fucked… Béatrice? Am I understanding that right, Seb? You fucked my wife and my daughter, didn’t you, Seb? Filthy little vulture, you are. Taking any sloppy seconds you can find.”

“Bea…” Julien breathed as though he’d drowned in his own mind. The agony he tried to hide for the last decade was a true work of art, one I wanted to enjoy to the fullest extent.

Amusement spread through me like wildfire, and a grin slid across my lips.

“Well, well.” I tucked the gag back between Mendes’s teeth before turning to Jules. I walked around him in a circle, staring at him, even as his eyes remained trained on Sebastian. “You’re not going to stand for that, are you, Jules? This worm fucked your wife. Put his pathetic cock inside her before you were even separated.”

Julien’s expression never moved, but the set of his mouth let me know he would likely do the honors if I let him.

“She’s not my wife,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t give half a shit what—or who—she does.”

The liar. I gave him a long look, challenging his honesty, but he never wavered, perhaps for the first time in his life.

“Come now, Julien. Surely you have more than that to tell this piece of traitorous trash. He saw two of his betters turn their back and rooted in their women. Doesn’t that make you sick?”

I knew this kind of graphic talk would push Julien to the edge of what he could emotionally handle. He shuddered, his hand tightening around the handle of the blade he’d taken from the cabin, not having let go of it once, as if by holding onto it, he might be able to pretend he’d held onto her. He stepped forward, raising the knife…

Then he dropped it at my feet.

“I’d hate to overstep,” he spat, the words directed at me even as he sneered at Mendes. “The joy is yours, as always.” With a final glare at the knife, he stepped back into his place behind me, crossing his arms and looking like he’d swallowed something rotten.

I know you feel my power waning once more. Soon it will all be yours, but for now… Use it, while you still have it at your disposal.

My eyes shot to Jules’s, and then a loud, echoing laughter bubbled forward, filling the night with my growing insanity, not helped by the Goddess’s constant voice in my mind, testing my capacity for control. I took a few calculated steps forward, Sebastian’s crying crescendoing in a symphony of terror. I crouched down before him, unbuttoning my pressed, white shirt as I did.

“I know… that you know… exactly what I can do, Mendes. Is that what you want? For me to, one by one, shut down every single one of your organs so that you feel every bit of slow agony while you die, using your own magic to do it?” He screamed and shook his head furiously. “No?” I taunted, and he began to fling his head back and forth and to the sides. “No. We won't do that.” I gave him a patronizing pat on the cheek, and he stilled, staring fearfully at me. “And why is that, Seb? Because you’re going to help us.” I felt my acolytes stiffen behind me, no doubt wondering what was coming next. “Where did they go, Sebastian? Where did you send my wife?”

I heard a small scoff from Siobhan, who took an overt step back, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

“If you want to keep that ring on your fucking finger and your head on your neck, you’ll keep your commentary to yourself,” I said to her, my eyes still trained on Doctor Mendes.

Sebastian’s gag was nearly soaked through with the spit and tears he was emitting, and I watched his eyes dart briefly to the table across the room. I followed his gaze and saw that it appeared to be covered in papers and maps. Just as quickly, his eyes returned to mine, hope that I hadn’t noticed dissipating like smoke. I snapped my fingers at Julien and indicated he should fetch them. He did as directed, bringing the papers back to me after glancing at them.

“Greece,” he said, holding up the file before tucking it under his arm, knowing that I was in business mode and would deal with the details afterward. “Delphi, to be exact. Is that right, Mendes?” Julien’s voice was tight, rough, unforgiving. It brought me a sick pleasure to hear him speak like that. Almost as though I might have had some good influence on him after all.

My eyes turned back to my hostage, who suddenly went still, his eyes trembling but his sobs ceasing.

I looked up at Julien, who was shaking as well, though for him it was based in rage, and nodded to the knife.

“Take his cock,” I said with an abundance of nonchalance, my eyes meeting Sebastian’s again to relish his face when he heard the words. “He doesn't need it.”

Julien froze, looking at me with what might have been horror. Despite the performative coldness, the weakness he still showed was nauseating. It was a command, an official one, but Julien seemed determined to argue his way out of it.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked, retrieving the knife anyway, unable to resist the power of my command. “Just kill him. We’re wasting time playing with our food.”

I glared at him, daring him to refuse me.

“He needs to learn a lesson, Jules, and apparently so do you.” I paused, weighing the options of how best to show them both who was in charge. “As such, I am going to leave the good doctor with a choice.” I knelt down again to be eye level with the dog who’d fucked my wife and removed his gag. “Seb. The choice is yours. Julien can kill you, and you keep your cock. Or… he can remove it, and we leave your fingers to call an ambulance.”

Sebastian wept, sniveling and begging. “Please, no,” he gasped, his legs trying to press together even though his feet were bound to the chair legs. “I’ll never see them again—either of them, I swear. Please.”

“Very well, then. Chevalier, the decision is yours.” I stayed my command, enjoying the dread creeping across my brother’s face.

“This is barbaric,” he said, a slight tremor to his voice.

I rose, stomping to him and getting nearly nose to nose. “And a man sniffing around your leftovers and then fucking them isn’t? He didn’t even wait until you separated, Jules. Whatever disregard this scum may have for me, you called him friend.”

Julien shuddered, then rolled his shoulders. That look of self-loathing I so enjoyed was firm on his face as he said, “Cock, it is. Then he can’t ever make the same mistake twice.”

I patted him on the back, pleased at his developing penchant for torment. “Good boy.”

I watched, pleased, as Julien tucked the gag back into Sebastian’s mouth to dampen the inevitable screams. Either way, he wouldn't go near Lysette after this, not to lend aid, and certainly not to do anything else.

Arousal coursed through me at the prospect of punishing her lover, at last. Siobhan hovered nearby, and I pushed her into the couch, already hard at the thought of this trash having to watch me fuck someone while he lost his cock. She happily allowed me access to her for the first time in weeks, and I groaned as she reached forward, pulling my hardness from my trousers.

Julien looked away as though trying to decide between death by fire or drowning, knowing he would be expected to join once his task was complete.

“Now,” I commanded, feeling Siobhan hungrily attempt to regain my favor with her mouth.

It worked.

Behind me, I heard fabric tearing, and Sebastian began to scream into his gag once more. With the music of his mutilation in my ears, I focused my attention on Siobhan, who looked like she’d received salvation, at last, and I moved between her legs to give her exactly what she desired.

Well, not entirely.

Because even as I fucked her hard, I wasn’t with her—not mentally.

In my mind, I was reunited with Lysette. It was her beneath me, having come to her senses and put her rings back on. She moaned my name the way she used to, encouraging me to give her another child, and another.

And I would be more than happy to deliver.

Yes, my love. We will repopulate the world with our children, a new race of gods to rule over all.

I didn’t know where they were, or how long it would take to properly track them down. But I wouldn’t stop until my wife and my daughter were with me, where they belonged. I made that promise to Lysette long ago, and I intended to keep it.

It was hard enough to hunt down an ancient relic when so much of what might have been down here had already been taken away by archaeologists to be dated and studied. Add to that a precocious and enthusiastic eight-year-old “helping” by picking up every single interesting rock or piece of rotted wood, and I felt certain I would never find anything.

“Aster,” I said gently, “we have to be more focused. We have to find the treasure, but that means we need to be quiet and pay attention. Can you do that?”

She seemed disappointed at being stopped from her exploring but looked delighted at the idea of hunting down treasure and nodded. After searching a few more corridors with no luck, however, she lost the thrill.

“I’m tired,” she whined. “Are we almost done?”

“Nearly,” I told her, hoping I wasn’t lying but feeling certain I was. “We just have to—”

My words were cut off as a deep rumble shook the walls and ceiling around us. I pulled Aster close, then opened my mouth to try to call for Lysette, to make sure she was okay.

“Bea!” Lysette’s voice was closer than I thought she would be, and filled with terror. I took off at a run toward the source but came to a full stop as I heard her again, the rumbling renewing with increased strength. “Run!”

All around us, stone shook free of the ceiling and began to crumble down like hailstones. I looked back in horror at Aster, who seemed to have frozen. There would be no time to run. I dove at her, covering her body with my own as we were buried in earth and stone.

Weak.

Hecate’s voice echoed in my mind in the darkness, reminding me of what she’d said in my dream. But even if I wanted to blast everything out of the way with dark magic, I couldn’t move, couldn’t see where Lysette was, and I wasn’t going to use either of my sisters to fuel that. I tried to take a breath, but all I got was a mouthful of dust, and I tasted blood in my throat and on my lips.

I felt Aster beneath me, still breathing, and I barely had time to hope someone would find her, save her, before my mind went blank.

“Rosie…”

I heard a voice in the darkness, cool and smooth like stone. Something safe and familiar.

“Rosie…” it sang out again. The voice was melodic and gentle, sweet like a honeycrisp apple with some bite to it. I could smell citrus and sandalwood, a scent I knew better than my sister's face.

“Éiren…”

His strong, slim arms wrapped around me to pull me from the wreckage, holding me against him, and I opened my eyes. If I was about to die, I wanted to see his beautiful face one more time, no matter what rage or cruelty I would find there. But his expression was soft and concerned, all traces of the megalomaniac gone. He was carrying me, searching for a way out of my would-be tomb.

When he saw I was watching him, he smiled at me and pushed the bloodied hair from my face, placing a gentle kiss on my lips and sighing against them.

“Why have you done this, Lysette?” Éiren said sweetly, as if I’d broken a vase or something, his voice that musical sound which always seemed like he was made to say my name. “It didn’t have to be like this. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

What was he saying? Why was he here? How was he here?

“Are you real?” I asked him softly as he shifted me, wrapping his hands around the back of my thighs so they were around him. He carried me to the altar and set me down, sitting next to me and taking my hand.

“Does this feel real?” he asked.

I considered it for a moment. I was surprised to find that, despite having been buried alive, I was in no pain. If this wasn’t another dream, had I healed myself?

It was possible…

“Where is Aster?” His voice was gentle and kind, if not mildly curious, as his thumb rubbed little circles on the back of my hand.

I fought against the oncoming goosebumps his touch sent through me, not wanting to give in so easily when I swore I wouldn’t. “She’s with Bea. I guess they must have made it out of here, if they called you to save me.”

Éiren placed a finger beneath my chin and lifted it so I was forced to look into those rain cloud eyes that could break through any defenses I had. “Does that sound like our Beatrice?” he asked with some mixture of amusement and frustration.

“No,” I admitted. “She wouldn’t call you. How did you know I was here?”

He laced his fingers into mine and kissed the inside of my wrist. “I always know, Lysette. Your soul is bound to mine eternally. There is nowhere you can go where I can’t feel you. I’ve known all along where you’ve been, and I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. To come back to me. To come home.”

I wanted to cry. This was the Éiren I’d been waiting for. The one I was sure was under everything else, who loved me enough to put aside his other obsessions. He pulled my hands away to grab my waist and lifted me into his lap, holding me tight.

“I will take care of you forever, Lysette. You never have to be alone again. You and Aster… You can come home to me, my Rosie Girl.”

I looked at him once more and took a deep breath in. Then I was on my back, Éiren cradling my neck as he kissed me. A strange white light began to glow from within him, and Éiren looked like he was an angel for the shimmer that erupted around his face.

“What is this?” I sighed into his lips.

“My birthright,” he said, toying with the zipper on my pants and then tugging his pressed white shirt over his head.

His chest felt cool against my hands, and I could feel the magic, light and dark, roiling inside me. His lips pecked at mine hungrily, and all thoughts of Bea or Aster or the relics disappeared from my mind.

“I love you,” he breathed against my skin. “I have always loved you, Lysette. And there is nothing in this entire universe I wouldn’t do to make you happy.”

“I know,” I moaned as he kissed across my hips. “I know. And I would give my life a thousand times for yours. I have always belonged to you, Éiren Connolly.”

With a swift tug, he had my pants and boots off me, tossed across the floor and abandoned in the wake of his lust. My entire body felt alight with need. Need only he ever managed to draw from me, and he lay his body down on top of me, grinding himself against my own heat.

I tried to remember my reasons for hating him and tried to remind myself that he was the enemy. That if not for him, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be facing danger and death.

But if not for him, Aster wouldn’t exist.

“I want us to be a family, Rosie. Me, you, and little Aster. She’s such a beautiful child. The spitting image of you.”

“She’s got your eyes,” I gasped as he brought my hand to his length. I realized then how much I’d missed this kind of intimacy, the kind I only ever had with Éiren. Even without a soul to share my body with in the last nine years, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one I’d ever been with could move my soul the way he could.

Our kissing was frantic, hands grabbing anything they could, our nude bodies scraping, uncaring, against the ancient stone. The glow from Éiren brightened further, and I could hardly look at him for the pain it caused my eyes.

His mouth went to my breast, circling my nipple with his tongue and groaning roughly against it. My hips arched with the pleasure his touch was sending through me, and I whimpered at the gentle sucking.

“Please, Éiren… Please…”

He knew what I meant. I wanted—needed—him, too. Just as badly, if not more. No thoughts of Siobhan or any child they may have created or what he’d done in the past seemed relevant beneath his deft fingers.

In an instant, my shoulders strained in a way I’d only dreamed about for years. He ran his mouth from my chest to my lips, slowly, deliciously, then reached his hand between my legs, dipping his fingers in me and bringing them to his mouth.

“I’m glad to see I can still make you do that,” he grinned with radiating confidence, his Irish lilt falling through unabashedly.

I loved that look—it always meant I was in for as much pleasure as Éiren could dream of.

“Please, Éiren… I need you. I want you over and over and over again. Make me yours again.”

A euphoric expression crossed his face, and he reached forward to affix his massive hand around my throat.

“If there is one thing I can promise you,” he groaned, his body beginning to shake, “it’s that I will do exactly that. That… and the fact that I’m going to make you say my name—and only my name—over… and over…”

And that was one promise Éiren never broke.

Weak.

Hecate’s voice seemed to shake the stone around me as I returned to consciousness, even though I knew it was only in my memory. I coughed, the weight of the rubble which had buried me pressing on my back, making it hard to catch my breath. My arms were still around Aster, who was whimpering my name softly, unable to move, but alive and awake.

“Are you okay?” I croaked to her, my throat filled with dirt and dust as I tried to turn my face away from her to cough.

“My arm hurts,” she whimpered, trying to squirm free and failing. “And I’m scared.”

Me, too, I didn’t say out loud.

“It’s going to be okay,” I told her instead, unsure which of us I was convincing. My head was pounding, my heart racing, and I knew I had to get Aster out of here so I could find Lysette without worrying that both of them would be buried again.

Step one, Bea, I said to myself, just like I did back in Triora, when I was trapped with Lysette and had to make my way out on my own. Get out. Move.

I started to wiggle my limbs, hoping to find a weakness in the earth around us. My left leg could move, so I began to kick it back and forth, up and down, until I felt air on my skin. I breathed a sigh of relief, and my right leg joined in the motion until I was able to get myself and Aster free.

I stood and looked around to get my bearings and nearly pissed myself at what I saw.

The wreckage was terrible. The entire temple had been brought down with us inside. Aster leaned against me, cradling her injured arm and gazing around with wide, terrified eyes. I picked her up without another moment’s pause and began to work my way through the destroyed corridors, avoiding rocks which continued to fall and places where the floor gave way. I moved as slowly as I dared, each step deliberate and sure, holding her close against me as I climbed to the edge of the pit so we could climb free of the grave we’d nearly made for ourselves.

I let her use my hands as steps to crawl out of the collapsed dig site, and we ran full speed into the bushes where we’d hidden before, where I instructed her to wait for me.

“I have to find your momma,” I told her as I caught my breath, trying to sound strong and sure, even while fighting my own tears and wanting nothing more than to give into the shock threatening to overtake me. But I couldn’t, not with Lysette still buried. I couldn’t leave her there. “Stay here. Don’t move. If anyone comes by, hide. I’ll be back, Peachy. I promise.”

Aster nodded, throwing her uninjured arm around my neck with all the strength she had, causing a jolt of pain that told me I likely had injured my back. She released me with a sniff.

“Be careful,” she begged.

“Always am.” I winked at her with a hollow grin before turning away and letting the smile fade into nothing.

Then, I was running, my feet moving like they never had before, flying over stones with a fearlessness I’d never before experienced on such an uneven surface. But this wasn’t a hike for “fun.”

This was life or death for Lysette.

I dove back into the destroyed temple with less care than I ought to have shown, given how badly I was injured just a few days ago and not wanting a repeat experience, especially with her, but I knew any time Lysette had was running out. I worked my way down to where Aster and I were before, balking when I saw the size of the pile we’d been buried under, then looked around as I tried to remember the direction from which I’d heard Lysette scream. I was turned around, lost. My pulse pounded in my head, and a cut on my brow sent a stream of blood into my eyes. I wiped it away, the pain of the wound not even registering. I was too focused, too fearful.

“Lysette!” I called, hoping she would respond, that she was able to do so. I was met with only silence, and I began to weep with fear for her as I shouted for her again. “Lysette!” I started to rush from pile of rocks to pile of rocks, barely even stopping to look. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t—

I wiped away the tears, thinking of what Lysette would do, what she would say if she saw me freaking out instead of doing what I needed to.

“Focus, Beatrice.”

Even just in my imagination, Lysette’s voice centered me, helping me keep my head. I took a deep breath and let my eyes scan the rubble, searching for any tiny sign of her. But it was just debris—no pattern, no hint of a body, nothing.

Focus.

There had to be an anomaly somewhere, something different. I looked again, more carefully, looking—

There.

It was a small dip in the wreckage, and when I moved to look closer, I felt airflow from between the stones.

I began to dig my way down, pulling rocks free and using my hands as a shovel, my fingers growing more bruised and bloody by the second as the earth fought back at being moved from where it rested.

Finally, I found an opening big enough for me to squeeze through, and I dropped down into the ruined corridor.

The path through was treacherous. One wrong move, and I might have brought what little structure remained overhead down on top of me. I had only gone about twenty feet before I was able to stand, and I felt my heart stop in my chest.

I was in an area which clearly housed an altar of some kind, the stone table still partially visible, even amidst the detritus. A large pile of rubble blocked the way, but I didn’t need to go any further to find what I was looking for.

Sticking out from beneath the largest rock was a piece of fabric.

No, not fabric.

Fur.

Leopard fur.

And there was a hand holding it.

“Lys!” I cried, dropping to all fours to get closer, smashing my knees on a jagged piece of stone. I reached for her hand, feeling her wrist, trying to find even a hint of a heartbeat to show me I wasn’t too late. I couldn’t imagine what might break me more than Lysette not making it through this, and I needed to feel that rhythm to know I wasn’t going to be doing this alone.

But it was still. Silent.

“No, no, no, no…” I moaned, willing her to be alive, for her heart to tell me she was.

Nothing.

But then…

YES!

It was faint, but there was a pulse. I sobbed with relief, but being alive now didn’t mean she would stay that way. I needed to get her out of here, get her to a hospital. I looked at the thick slab of stone which had caved in on her and knew I would never be able to move it in a million years. It was massive. A fully grown weightlifter wouldn’t have been able to lift it.

Use the gift I’ve given you or don’t…

I stood and looked around, unsure if I’d actually heard her, or if it was in my mind, a result of my concussion bringing the words from my dream to the forefront of my thoughts. I looked around as if I’d find her, standing there, but she wasn’t, of course. Instead, my eyes settled on the altar where Hecate’s wheel had been carved, the design faint after so many years of decay.

Her altar.

Her temple.

Maybe she was really here, even if I couldn’t see her, and she could help me find that spark. I looked at my hands, ran my fingers over the ruined skin on my forearm. I tried to feel for my fire, for anything to help me save my sister.

Nothing.

It was still gone, just like I’d said.

I pounded my fists on the altar, angry, defeated. I needed magic, not riddles and bullshit.

It’s all there…

Her voice rang through my mind again, and I clenched my hands tightly. It had been a nightmare. Not true. Hecate was a goddess, the mother of all witches, a being of light magic—not of evil. She wouldn’t allow her descendant, of all people, to be led into darkness. My beloved fire and ice couldn’t be entwined with that horrible poison. They couldn’t.

And yet… the wall…

Weak…

No, I thought as I heard her accusation again. I’m not. And I’m not going to lose it, not now, when she needs me. I can do this. Breathe, Bea. Focus. For Lys.

I moved to where Lysette’s hand was visible and touched it gently. She was colder than I realized.

I gritted my teeth, resolving to do whatever was necessary to save Lysette. I knew at the start of this journey that a time might come when I’d have to use dark magic to save her or Aster, but I had thought it would be facing down Éiren, my life for his, for my family. I didn’t think it would be underground, where my sisters and I were buried alive. Not by enemies—just by gravity.

My gift is all magic…

No more fighting it. Lysette was running out of time. I felt through the current, looking for a source, any source other than my sister—either of my sisters. At first, I felt nothing, no one else, but then…

Yes. There. A handful of people nearby, likely the guard I’d subdued and others, coming to check on the collapse. I needed to get her out before we were found.

And I could take just enough from each of them to not cause any kind of lasting harm while still doing what I needed to do.

I let the darkness bubble up to the surface like it had been trying to do all along, let it flow freely within me, channeling it, then felt within the magic and gasped as I felt my fire alongside it, a part of it. Both sets of magic moved inside me like a roaring tide, swirling and blending in a beautiful maelstrom of power. My skin was tingling, burning, and I felt the rise within me like an oncoming orgasm, ready to be set free.

Now!

I gave a great push and let the power go, my hands the conduit for a tapestry of red, orange, blue, purple, even black magic, swirling in a singularity before me.

It was glorious, beautiful.

Mine.

The magic focused under my gaze, moving where I guided it with even more ease than my fire ever needed. This wasn’t just magic.

It was power.

I pushed it forward, keeping it concentrated on only the spot I needed to destroy, blowing the slab to bits until only dust remained. I felt the climactic rush which came from using that darkness and started to gasp and pant, my entire being becoming one with this dark force. I barely had time to revel in the sensations before I felt the need to set it free once more. I faced the rest of the pile, blasting each bit of rubble until Lysette lay uncovered.

My hands remained raised, the power still flowing from the people nearby, roaring in my ears, desperate and wanting to be unleashed on a living being, to take everything they had and fill me. Hecate’s presence in the room was thicker than blood, surrounding me, wanting me to use her “gift.”

No.

I forced it down, swallowing back the need and closing off the conduit of other people’s life as I knelt by Lysette's side, fighting to regain control. The magic wanted its outlet, but I wouldn’t use it here, not on my sister, who was lucky to be alive at all.

She was barely bloody, but I could tell from the slowly pulsing cut on her head that she was in trouble, and she didn’t have herself to heal it. I could try, but just from healing myself when I got the bullet wound, I knew how much energy it took, far more to give life than to take it. There was no way I could heal her without damaging someone else, and she wouldn’t want that. She’d never forgive me if the cost of life was someone else’s, and she’d never get over the guilt, even if she wasn’t the one doing it.

Which meant I had to get her out of here. Fast.

I knew how dangerous it was to move someone so injured, but I needed to get her to someone who could save her. I lifted her as gently as I could, turning to the treacherous path back out.

Use it or don’t…

I raged against the suggestion, but my feet caught on every stone, fatigue wearing me down to nothing.

If I couldn’t get her out of here before the temple finished what it started, we would both die.

I fell to my knees, sobbing into Lysette’s hair. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make it out with Lysette. Aster was going to be left alone, afraid, with no one to protect her from our father.

I thought about her, waiting behind those bushes for her sister and mother who would never return. I wished nothing more than to just be at her side, to protect and comfort her from whatever the result of this suicide mission would be.

And then, I felt a rush of that same magic once more, followed by a rush of fresh air.

I opened my eyes to find myself no longer in the ruins, but standing outside of them, Lysette’s limp form draped across my arms. Right before me was Aster, pacing the path I’d worn down earlier in the day.

I’d teleported…

“Momma!” she wailed when she saw me, rushing to my side, not having noticed me appearing out of thin air. “Bea—”

“Aster,” I interrupted her in a rush, before she could ask what happened, not entirely sure, myself. I could think about the implications of this new power, one I’d only ever seen one other person use, later. “I need you to be quiet and come with me. We need to get your momma somewhere safe—somewhere they can make her better. But that means you need to follow me and don’t say anything. Just stay close.”

Thank goodness, she was smart, because she closed her mouth and nodded, letting silent tears spill over her rosy cheeks.

The next hour felt like long, slow days as we made our way into the center of town, constantly checking to make sure Lysette was still breathing, where I burst through the door of the emergency room.

“Aiuto!” I screamed. “Aiuto!” A nurse rushed over and, after only the most cursory of glances, began shouting over her shoulder.

Shock must have begun to settle over me, because my ability to process my surroundings was fading quickly. A whole medical team assembled in seconds, taking Lysette from me even as I clung to her, and placing her on a stretcher, hooking her up to machines and cutting away her clothes to examine her body for deeper damage.

Aster sobbed and climbed to take Lysette’s place in my arms as a doctor and two nurses began to look us both over as well, asking questions I didn’t understand—not because they were in a language other than my native one, but because I was wholly focused on the way they were shoving a metal bar down Lysette’s throat to insert a tube, since she seemed to have stopped breathing on her own.

“Signorina,” the doctor said loudly, pulling me from my daze.

“Yes?” I asked, unable to access my knowledge of Italian with everything else happening around me.

“Ah, English,” she said. “Miss, I need to know what happened, and we need to check you and the child for injuries.”

“Um…” I looked at Aster, whose whitened face was streaked where her tears had washed away the dirt on her cheeks. I couldn’t exactly tell them we’d broken into a protected archaeological dig site. “Car accident. We were on scooters. A truck took the turn too quickly…”

We were led to two separate beds, but I refused to release my hold on Aster, so they were forced to examine us together. Aster had a sprained wrist that needed a brace but was otherwise okay. In addition to my other injuries, I had a mild concussion, but they didn’t feel the need to keep me for observation. The doctor stitched the cut above my eye and declared me well enough to take Aster.

To leave.

“I’m not going anywhere!” I said, following her from the room and grabbing her wrist. “I want to see my sister. I have to know if she’s…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. A nurse put the hand I didn’t have hold of on my arm and tried to lead me back to the bed where Aster was crying in silence.

“She’s in surgery,” the woman said in an infuriatingly calm voice. “You can stay in the waiting room, but it will be hours at best. You should get some rest. Leave us your number. We will call you with news.”

Fury coursed within me, flowing like the magic, which had now found its release and was loath to be contained again. My grip on her wrist tightened, and I saw her mouth fall open. Her eyes bulged under my touch, and her face grew red, a sweat breaking out across her forehead as my dark power drew from her. If I didn’t stop, it would kill her in seconds.

I released her like I was burned by my own fire, horrified, and backed away as she shook her head, unsure what had caused her momentary episode.

“Of course,” I choked out, fighting against both my instinct to refuse and the magic. Causing a scene would do nothing but draw unnecessary attention and take their focus away from where it needed to be—Lysette.

I gave the nurse the number for the burner phone I’d activated upon our arrival and dragged Aster—fighting with every breath to stay—away from Lysette and back to the motel.

“What’s gonna happen to Momma?” she whimpered as I helped her into the bath. She was shaking, and I had to hide how much my hands were trying to do the same. She didn’t need my fear on top of her own.

“The doctors are going to make sure she’s breathing okay and make sure she didn’t hurt her brain when she hit her head. Then, when she wakes up, she can fix whatever they can’t.”

If she wakes up…

“I don’t want to do anymore treasure hunts.” Her voice was small and breathy as she began to cry.

“Me neither, Peachy,” I told her. “You’ll never have to again, okay?” I had no idea if I could make that promise without lying, but I knew I would do everything in my power to keep her away from the dirty work for the rest of her life, if I had to.

I washed Aster in the tub, singing softly to her and reciting pieces from her favorite books, though she didn’t even seem to really hear me, lost in her own thoughts and sorrow. When I finally got her dressed and put her into bed, she cried herself to sleep in just a few minutes. I stood with mechanical movements and went back to the bathroom, where I turned the shower on as hot as it would go.

I peeled off my ruined clothes, slowly, methodically, consciously aware of every single motion and action, of how the fabric stuck to parts of me because of the dried blood. I wanted to open my mouth and scream, to release every fear, every bit of pain, every betrayal, but I was unwilling to let the darkness have an outlet again. Stepping under the scalding water, I let it redden my skin, feeling it burn. It was cathartic, medicinal.

I closed my eyes, and images of Lysette’s crushed and broken body flashed alongside an image of the nurse I’d nearly killed. It was an accident, I kept trying to tell myself, but I knew better. I’d done exactly what Éiren would have when presented with unsavory information. The only reason she survived my momentary loss of control was that my dark magic wasn’t as practiced as his.

I sat down in the steam, letting it billow around me as I finally broke down. Lysette could be dead already, and Aster would be left with only me. And I was no better than Éiren. I never had been. I tried to be. I’d pretended and done a damn good job of it. But the moment I received news I didn’t like, I’d nearly destroyed the messenger.

I let the pressure beat against my back until the water no longer held any warmth, then climbed out, shivering, and wrapped myself in a towel.

I sat at the edge of the bed for hours, unable to look at the child I swore to give my life to protect, and by the time I broke free of my stupor, the sun was rising. I was just about to give over to my exhaustion and sleep, when I was snapped out of my self-loathing haze by the sound of my phone ringing.

“Hello?” I croaked in a deep monotone as I answered the call.

“Yes, is this Signorina Clara Nightingale?”

I shuddered at the name, a pseudonym chosen by Lysette. I’d hated it from the start, but now, it was like a piece of her was speaking to me through someone else, and I clung to every syllable. “Yes.”

“My name is Dottore Nuzzo,” the gentle voice on the other end said. “I’m calling about Lysette Chevalier.”

***

Aster was curled up against Lysette’s side as the doctor told me in hushed tones that they’d managed to stop the bleeding in her brain, but it could be hours, days, even weeks before she woke up. The longer it went, the less likely she was to wake up at all. They could force it, but doing so might cause lasting damage, so the choice was made to let her try to wake up naturally.

Aster cried with renewed fervor upon seeing Lysette hooked up to the machines which were keeping her breathing, monitoring her heart, and checking her brainwaves. She’d never seen anything like them before, and her first introduction being while her mother was fighting for her life wasn’t exactly the way I’d have liked for her to learn about modern medicine. But once the shock subsided, I watched her face take on a strength she could only have gotten from Lysette.

It certainly wasn’t from me. I was barely holding it together.

“Can I lay next to her?” she asked the nurse. “She sleeps better with me next to her.”

My heart broke as the nurse lowered the guardrail on the side of the bed so Aster could climb up. I decided to let her have some time to come to terms with what was happening while the doctor gave me a bunch of details I didn’t need, names for the injuries and possible complications. All I cared about was knowing if Lysette would be okay, and they couldn’t tell me that yet.

The nurses brought us trays of food, but I couldn’t eat a bite. Aster picked at her plate but gave up nearly as quickly, returning to her mother’s side, whispering in her ear, reciting some of her favorite parts of books we left behind at the cabin, where life was safe and simple.

I watched Aster, marveling at the child I helped raise. She’d been sheltered in a way that should have broken her when she entered the world, but her resilience and her openness were astounding. She was every bit Lysette’s daughter, but with my stubbornness. A quality I hoped would serve her and help her to deal with whatever was coming, because now, it might just be the two of us.

By mid-morning, I knew we couldn’t stay in the room any longer. My limbs were aching from the physical toll of the previous night. Between that and my own anxiety and dread, I couldn’t sit still. Aster jumped every time I stood to pace, and the nurses scolded her one too many times, telling her that if she couldn’t be still, she couldn’t lay with Lysette. I nearly lost control more than once when they did, the broken look on Aster’s face sending that same rage through me.

I took a nurse aside, careful to keep my hands to myself, and asked him if there was anywhere we could go to get some fresh air, maybe to get our minds off of… the situation. Just for the afternoon. He told me about a zoo nearby and gave me directions. It was only fifteen minutes away by foot, and I turned to Aster.

“Alright, Peachy. You and me are going to get out of this room for a little while and let the doctors do what they do best. She’s going to be just fine, and they’ll call us if she wakes up. Why don’t you say goodbye for now?”

She nuzzled her face against her mother’s shoulder.

“Bye, Momma,” she whispered.

She didn’t cry. She seemed to have run out of tears.

I couldn’t relate. My own tears had built up inside of me, a dam ready to burst. But I couldn’t let it yet. Not until we were safe—all of us.

I helped Aster down from the bed and squeezed her hand.

“We’ll come see her before bed,” I promised her. Then, I bent my head to Lysette’s cheek and kissed her. “We’ll be back soon. Please get better, Lys.”

I wasn’t sure anything would successfully distract either of us from knowing Lysette was here, dancing along the veil between life and death, but I was determined to try. At least for Aster.

Before we left the room, the nurse handed me a bag with Lysette’s personal effects. I reached inside and pulled out the vial of ashes, which miraculously survived the night, and threw the chain over my head. I tucked her wallet into my own bag, which still smelled musty from carrying the cloak the night before, then thrust what was left back at the nurse.

“Throw the rest away,” I told her before pulling Aster behind me, out of the sterile-smelling building and into the fresh, late fall air.

It took a couple hours of wandering the zoo, but she seemed to relax as I swore to her over and over, “Momma will be fine. She just needs to rest, and the machines are there to help her get better fast.”

It helped that she was able to see animals she’d only ever read about in books, but each one could only hold her attention so long before her face would fall, remembering where Lysette was.

We rounded a corner and found a wall of glass, behind which was a gorgeous, tropical aquarium. Aster gasped in delight and dropped my hand to press her fingers to the glass.

“Look! Bea, look!” she called. “They’re so pretty!” I focused my eyes on one of the hundreds of brightly colored fish which could have held her attention captive, nodding in a way that I hoped might keep her from realizing how distracted I was.

So distracted I didn’t realize someone had gotten close to me until they touched me.

“Bea,” a deep and familiar voice whispered from behind me as a strong hand gripped my shoulder, and the world went quiet around me as if time had stopped.

Because it had.

My gut clenched, and my muscles tensed. I’d heard him in dreams, heard that voice, that tone, and let it through my defenses because I was weak. And in every dream, he showed his true colors. Showed his true loyalty over and over, just as he did that night nine years ago.

My body ached for him, yearned for this closeness, but my mind knew better. I swiped my thumb over the ring on my finger.

My reminder.

Kill him.

Now.

This power would have its release after all.

I spun, ready to fight, but Julien’s hand looped behind me to hold me against him in a way I thought he never would again, sending my heart pounding with unbidden hope. I hesitated, my resolve wavering despite everything I knew about him and what he’d done, what he may yet do. Still, my magic, my rage, everything settled within me at his touch, leaving me with a floating, serene feeling.

It’s another dream, I told myself defiantly. It has to be. I’m asleep at the motel, and this isn’t real.

And if it wasn’t real…

My hands moved to his chest, fists clenching around the jacket he wore, holding him tightly to me against all better judgment. He was a killer. A traitor.

His grip on me was solid but soft, firm but gentle. Hundreds of years of his body on mine, of his arms around me just like this, came flooding back.

His face drew close to mine, his ever-concerned hazel eyes roving over my face. His free hand ran through my hair as he looked at the chocolate-brown color, wrapping the strands around his fingers.

“You changed your eyes,” he murmured, his breath warm, only inches from my lips.

“You’re not here,” I breathed, knowing now, beyond a doubt, that I was dead wrong. He was here. And he wasn’t hurting me. He was holding me. “You’re not real.” I felt his heart rate spike along with my own at my words.

“Why wouldn’t I be real?” he asked softly, leaning closer.

“It’s a dream,” I whimpered. “It’s always a dream. If it’s not a dream, how did you find us?” I closed my eyes for a long moment, willing the illusion to shatter, to give me back my resolve, but when I opened them again, he was still there, holding me, staring at me. He frowned and moved his hand from my hair to run his thumb across my cheek, stroking the bandage above my eye, his touch electric against my skin.

“Where’s Lysette?” he asked.

I opened my mouth to answer, but instead, I crumbled, letting the tears spill and feeling the sobs wrenched from within me. I had been so strong for so long that I forgot what it felt like to feel safe—how he made me feel safe. Even with all of our ups and downs, our on again and off again, our fights and our affairs, he’d always managed that when I needed it most, and right now, I needed it more than ever. I fought against the feeling, not trusting it. Knowing I was raw and fragile, and remembering everything he’d done to me—to Lysette—I couldn’t give in…

I couldn’t…

“Béatrice,” he said softly, his lips no longer inches away, but brushing against my own with a feather-light touch. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

His lips caught mine, and I melted completely. My tears flavored the kiss, the familiar shape and warmth of him breaking down any reservations I had.

He was here. He was with me—with us.

I threw my arms around his neck and lost myself in the kiss, just for a moment, forgetting everything. Forgetting—

“Bea!”

Aster’s terrified voice broke the spell, and I pulled away from Julien, but he didn’t release me. His arms grew tighter, even as I turned my head to see what had frightened Aster.

I nearly fainted.

She was being held as tightly as I was by the last person I ever wanted to see touching her. Well, second to last, only missing out on the top spot because of her coven master. Siobhan looked bored and annoyed as she put a hand over my sister’s mouth.

“Are you finished, Chevalier?” she spat. “Or are you actually trying to make me vomit?”

Rage welled up within me again, the magic preparing to be unleashed along with it. It was a fucking trap. I knew it was, and I’d let myself be blindsided. I had taken my eyes off of Aster for less than a minute, and now Siobhan—fucking Siobhan—had her. I took a breath, feeling for that current of life and magic—their life and magic—that the dark power would let me draw from them, but I heard Julien’s voice in my ear before I could focus on it.

“Yeah, I’m done,” he said to her, his voice thick with disgust. “We got what we came for.”

I managed to move enough to look back at him, at his hardened gaze, not an ounce of the love he’d been faking there.

This was the last time he’d trick me.

I was going to blow him to bits right here.

Before I could, however, he yanked me to him roughly and kissed me again, his lips no longer soft, but hard, angry against my own. It was over in a second, and he pushed me away, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, I saw a tear fall from his eye.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, then took two large steps, closing the distance between himself and Aster and Siobhan. I didn’t even have time to blink before Aster pulled Siobhan’s hand away from her mouth to scream my name again, and then…

They were gone.

Never in the history of my life, since the day of my failed coronation, had I ever been this nervous.

I had been pacing my room for over an hour. Julien and Siobhan had left three days earlier, which meant they’d been gone exactly one day longer than they needed to complete the task I set upon them. I couldn’t eat or sleep or even properly relax while they were away. My frustration was amplified by the fact that I was solely tasked with looking after Róisín’s welfare in their absence.

Róisín wasn’t a difficult child by any means. On the contrary, she was well versed with making her own fun, something I truly adored about her, because I had always been a solitary creature, save for Lysette. But when she saw the delivery men hauling box after box of toys and clothes and furniture, she became inquisitive, as was natural for a child her age.

“Papa,” she said in her small voice like petals on a pond, “are those for me?”

“Would you like them to be?” I asked, pulling her into my lap.

“Uh huh,” she nodded, watching the boxes move up the stairs. “So many pretty things.”

“And what if I told you Papa has gotten you the most exciting thing of all?”

She looked around as if it was already here, and she just hadn’t seen it yet. “What is it?” she asked, excitement making her squirm, ready to run to whatever it was.

The idea of having my two daughters growing up before my eyes, molding them into the powerful witches they were born to be…

If Siobhan tragically passed in a horrible accident, would Róisín even notice? How long would it take for her to recover? Lysette had always been a proponent for adoption, she herself having been an orphan before Jacques took her in.

Suddenly, visions of our happy, powerful family danced before my eyes. Royalty in the magic world, undefeatable, undeniable.

Together, we will have that…

“Papa!” she whined, grabbing the lapel of my shirt and tugging. “What… is… it?”

I smiled softly at her, taking her hand and kissing it before pressing it to my face. “What would you say if I brought you someone your age, a girl, to play with? What if I brought you a sister?”

Her brow furrowed as she considered what I was saying. “A sister?”

“Yes.” I toyed with her hair in its splendid ginger coloring. “A friend for you, now and always. Someone you can share your secrets with, someone who can play and learn and laugh with you.”

Now, her face lit up. “Are you and Mommy having a baby?”

I paused at this question, wondering if I should plant the seeds of Lysette being her ‘mommy’ now, just in case. “Sort of,” I replied. “This is a sister who was born far, far away, but has always been your sister. Your birthday is even in the same month.” It was a guess, based on the date of conception, but one I felt fairly certain of.

“Really?” she squealed, but then she froze. “Do I still get to have my own party?”

“You can have anything you want, Princess. And the best part is…” I paused, not really knowing if what I was about to say was true, “she’s going to be here today.”

Róisín jumped to her feet and danced around the room before coming to a total standstill, looking at me in horror. “I have to get my room ready! Wait—will she have her own room? I need to decide which toys I want and which ones she can have!”

Her enthusiasm delighted me. “Slow down, Princess. All of those boxes are for her. You don't have to share, though I expect you will want to. Come with me, and I’ll show you her room.”

I stood and took her small, precious hand, leading her down the third-floor hallway our bedrooms were in, stopping at the room next to hers.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded so fast her hair rippled, gripping my fingers tightly and bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet like a little ballerina.

I reached for the handle and pushed it open, giving her a grand, sweeping view of the childhood heaven I’d created. The entire space was a soft pink, with a bed surrounded by tulle and fairy lights set into the wall. Above it was a little cove, accessible by a ladder and a slide, filled with books like I’d seen at the cabin where she was raised, though all the ones I provided were crisp and new. Plush stuffed animals which towered over me sat in the corners of the room, along with a hundred other toys—dolls and dollhouses, a play vanity, and enough board games to fill every day of the rest of her childhood. On the wall opposite the bed was painted a castle with fireworks above it, with even more lights set into the plaster to make it light up, like they were bursting over and over.

“Think you’d like to play in here?”

Róisín took off at a run, climbing to the book nook and sliding down with a giggle of delight before looking at me with a slight scowl.

“I want this room. It’s better than mine.”

“How do you figure?” I said, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow at her.

“I’m your princess. I don’t have a castle or a slide. I just have a stupid zoo.”

The one she referred to was, in fact, a large playhouse, custom-built, with paddocks and cages for life-sized stuffed versions of all of her favorite animals, several of which were animatronic so she could interact with them.

“But you loved your room this morning.”

“That was before I knew someone else was going to get a princess room,” she said, mirroring my posture.

“Indeed. Well, perhaps if you’re kind and welcoming to your new sister, we can make your room into a princess room, too. A blue princess,” I said, referencing her favorite color.

She weighed my offer, looking around the room as though deciding whether or not it was good enough. Finally, she returned her eyes to me.

“Fine. But I want two castles.”

Her lack of graciousness grated on me, and I took her wrist in my hand. “You can have no castles at all, if you want to make demands to Papa like that.”

Her eyes widened. She’d gone her entire life without incurring even a minutia of my wrath, and she pulled back quickly, holding her wrist like I’d hurt her, even though I’d done no such thing.

“Okay,” she said, her voice small and quiet as tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

“I know you are.” I bent and kissed her head, trying to follow the discipline with a reminder that she would never have to be anywhere in life without me loving her, then swatted her backside. “Now go finish your Latin. And I want you to be able to speak in French at dinner, so make sure you do an extra lesson.”

She nodded, still reeling from the encounter, and rushed from the room to go to her own.

No sooner had her tiny, strawberry blonde head cleared my sight than I felt a ripple of magic which knocked the wind out of me. I recognized a piece of it as Siobhan and Julien—they were back, thank fuck. But the other…

“Éiren?” I heard Julien call out for me, and in an instant, Róisín could have been any other child in the world, for the interest I held. I put my hands to my head and pushed back my hair, catching my reflection in the little vanity mirror while plastering on what I decided was a friendly smile.

I glided down the open well staircase with glee, the smile no longer put on as I went to meet my progeny, the one who was born of the woman I worshipped, the woman I would have given my very life for.

As I reached the bottom, I froze before moving slowly forward, in absolute awe as I came face to face with the tiniest version of my angelic Rosie I’d ever seen.

My heart skipped in my chest—something I hadn’t felt it do in nine years—and I realized she was a perfect combination of my love and me. Her auburn hair and delicate face. Her diminutive stature and upturned nose.

Her molten silver eyes.

She was perfect.

I dropped to my knees, overwhelmed by a feeling that generated in my belly and made my palms sweat. It was a feeling I vaguely remembered from a lifetime ago, before everything went to hell, and I opened my arms to her immediately, noting, for the first time, her tear-stained face. She was scared, but that would pass, especially once Lysette got here, too. Only a matter of time now that our daughter was with me.

“Hello, sweetheart,” I said, hearing my own timbre waver with emotion.

“I want to go home,” she said, tears spilling freely again as she hugged herself, one of her arms in a brace, keeping distance between us, her eyes darting over her shoulder at my acolytes as though they were going to harm her. Was it one of them who put her in the brace? They better not have been, or I would inflict every single ounce of it back on them tenfold. I was much less worried about Julien than Siobhan, whose jealousy was thick as blood, but I would make sure they both suffered either allowed the other to hurt her.

I scooted forward, still maintaining eye contact but softening my gaze for her benefit. “Don’t cry, my darling. Your mother is going to meet us here very, very soon. She doesn’t want you to live out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing. She just needed to do that until I could come back. Your papa.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked harder at me, analyzing what I’d said with the same studious expression I recognized in myself. “I don’t have a papa,” she said slowly, starting to take a step back before realizing that would put her closer to Jules and Siobhan. “Just Momma and Bea.”

I slowly reached for her hand, and, to my delight, she allowed me to take it. “No, that’s not true. Everyone has a father. Your Momma and Auntie Bea just didn’t want you to miss me. I was… away. Doing a project, making this house perfect for you. All three of you.”

Julien sucked in a sharp breath he couldn’t hide, and my eyes darted to him just in time to see him try to hide the flash of hope on his face. I knew he was a liar.. “All three?” he said in a measured voice. “After you just had me—?”

“All three,” I said firmly, returning my attention to the little girl. “But please, tell me your name. Your momma never did. I was very, very far away.”

She softened slightly, nodding, but a hint of indignation colored her words. “Bea’s not my aunt. She’s my sister.” She certainly was, given this little attitude. “And my name is Aster.”

Lysette, you clever, precious girl.

“Did she tell you aster was one of the flowers in her bouquet when we got married?”

She shook her head slowly. “Momma never told me she was married.”

“Ah…” I reached into my pocket and pulled out Lysette’s rings. “That’s probably because she lost her rings. I must be your papa if I have your momma’s rings, right?”

I placed them in her hands, and she held them up to the light, letting them shine and sparkle. “They’re pretty.”

“Just like Momma.” I gave her a smile to show her she had nothing to fear from me.

Aster nodded again, and the tears seemed to have stopped completely, but then they started fresh, bursting from her eyes and cascading over her cheeks. “What if Momma doesn’t wake up?” she sobbed. “How can she come if she doesn’t wake up?”

Every nerve in my body set on fire, and my gentle demeanor dropped as fear spiked my blood pressure. “Wake up? What do you mean, wake up?”

Julien, too, seemed to be hanging on every word. I looked at him, and he shook his head in confusion and worry. Clearly, he had no more knowledge of what Aster was saying than I did.

“She got hurt,” my daughter wept, her little body shaking. “We were on a treasure hunt, and everything started to cave in. She got trapped, and they said her brain was hurt.” She gasped, sobbing and losing her footing, stumbling into me, into my arms for the first time. “I want Momma…”

Whatever I may have felt for Róisín paled in an instant with Aster in my arms, knowing this was the only other person in the world who loved Lysette like I did, who would feel her loss with the same gravity, if whatever had happened took her from us.

I looked back at Julien, who shrugged, eyes wide and hands tucked under his arms the way he did when he was worried and didn’t want to show it.

Fuck.

“It’s going to be okay, my darling,” I said, hugging her tighter. “Papa has ways of making sure Momma will get all better and join us soon.”

“Promise?” she sniffed in my ear.

A tiny clinking sound echoed off the ground behind me, and I turned to find Róisín had dropped a small toy over the railing as she watched the interaction.

I wanted to get mad at her for having interrupted, but it provided a perfect opportunity to pull away. Much as I could have spent hours staring at Aster’s perfect face, I needed to get back to my office so I could try to find Lysette’s hospital records and find out what happened. “Excellent. Róisín, come here.”

The sound of tiny feet scurried down the stairs until she stood at my side, watching Aster continuing to cry. “Yes, Papa?”

“Why don’t you show your sister her new room?” I cooed, faux excitement lacing every word.

“New room?” Aster questioned.

“Yes.”

“Sister?”

I pulled Róisín away and turned her to face Aster. “This is Róisín. She has a different momma than you, but I am both your papa, which means you are sisters. And Aster, Róisín and I took lots of care to make you a very special bedroom.”

Aster’s eyes brightened, the tears slowing as she sniffed. “For me and Momma?”

I laughed. “No, of course not. Just for you!”

She looked to the ground hard, calculating, as though she didn't understand the concept. Thankfully, as children do, Róisín was eager to be best friends and pulled her sister from my arms, hugging her.

“I always wanted a sister,” she said. And despite the fact that she hadn’t even fully understood the concept of a sister an hour ago, Róisín truly did look happy.

My heart warmed, temporarily putting aside the dread I felt at the insinuation Aster made that Lysette might never wake up, and a full, intense, pride filled me from head to toe.

I remembered this feeling. This desire to protect and serve and strengthen. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, this extension of my Rosie and me would be more powerful than I could have predicted, and I cursed my own weakness.

“—and by the heavens and all that has made me, I love when you make me weak…”

Images of all of us, my daughters, Lysette, and me, living together, a true family, danced in my mind. I was surprised to find the fantasy didn’t include Hecate or the ring.

And yet, I will always be there.

Was that really what I wanted anymore? Knowing Lysette was in trouble, that I didn’t know what happened or how to reach her, had caused a shift in me. Perhaps the power wasn’t worth it. If I truly lost her, for good…

The entire idea behind gaining the ring was to elevate her to the place she belonged. I thought she’d be grateful, if not enamored when I was finally able to give her everything, Hecate’s power, so we could make the changes we always talked about in the dead of night. Change the world—for the better. But even if the power was to become ours for real, even if Hecate was to make Lysette the vessel for her magic, would Lysette even need me anymore?

You say that as if we will need her, Hecate crooned.

Why wouldn’t we need Lysette, if she was to be the vessel?

“Hey,” Siobhan snapped as we watched the girls depart. “We need to talk.”

I knew this was coming, even if it was a distraction from finding out what happened to Lysette. “Yes, we do.”

Julien remained behind in the hall, unmoving and lost to his thoughts, as we went upstairs and to my office, where I gently closed the door behind us.

“Three,” she said, fury shaking her voice as she started speaking before I even turned around. Finally, I faced her. “Three of them. Meaning not only the child, but Bea and…” She shook her head, petulant rage making her tremble. “You promised me.”

“Things have changed. Either adapt or get out.”

She pulled the ring from her hand and threw it at my forehead. “You never did mean it, did you?”

I reached forward and grabbed her wrist. “Careful who you speak to that way, Siobhan. It would certainly be tragic to have to tell Róisín you drowned in a river while your corpse rots in the crypt.”

She tried to pull away, but my grip was firm. She looked up at me, the anger in her eyes shifting to pain and fear. “You wouldn’t,” she said, and it wasn’t a reproval, but a plea. “Éiren… for forty years, I’ve done everything you asked without question. I’ve followed you and worshiped you and loved you, and I will continue to do those things until the end of time. Why can’t you see that no one will ever be for you what I can be?”

“Get out.”

Her lips thinned out as she nodded. “I’ll come back later. We can talk then. I’ll be in my room.”

I waited until she left, then went to the door. “Jules! I need to speak to you in my office. Now.”

He was there faster than I might have thought. Whether he was spying on the girls or on Siobhan and me, I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. He hovered in the doorway, neither entering nor refusing to do so.

“Yes?”

I grabbed him by the neck and yanked him inside, fury bubbling up in me like a sickness I hadn’t been aware of until now.

“We don’t need Siobhan anymore,” I said coldly. “Get her out of my house before dark. End her if need be.”

Julien froze like he was made of stone.

“Sorry?” he asked, not seeming to understand.

I sneered at his faux incompetence and got up into his face. “You know exactly what I mean. Do it. Now, if you can.”

He was still as a corpse, his eyes meeting mine willingly for the first time in months, maybe years. “What about Róisín? Don’t you think she’ll wonder where her mother went?”

“That’s not my concern. She’s already adapted to a new sister. She’ll adapt to a new mother, as well.”

“That’s not the same thing, and you know—”

With the smallest wave of my fingers, I heard his breath stop, shivering at the feeling of me asserting my power in such a way. The fact that he could never defy me was a drug with no equal. I held his lungs hostage and, with my free hand, grabbed him by the chin as he clutched at his throat.

“What could possibly be going through your mind right now?” I wondered aloud. “Is this finally the time he kills me? Will our brotherhood save me from an excruciating ending? Will Bea ever know just how much I loathed putting my cock in Siobhan? Will she know I did it, anyway?”

I curled my middle and pointer finger in toward me and heard one of his ribs pop, the ability to manipulate organic matter amplified by the power I had garnered from Hecate’s ring.

So little left, even now. But more will come, agape mou…

“When I tell you to sit, stand, shit, cry, or kill… you do it. Don’t you ever forget that.” I released him, knowing his rib was at least cracked, and an ugly bruise would mar him. Something he would have to look at for weeks or longer. “I said get rid of her. That is a command.”

“Of course,” he gasped through gritted teeth. “I’ll take care of it now.”

I watched him open the door once more, and to, I believe, both of our surprise, we found Siobhan there, listening, a basket of clothes dropped to the floor at her feet.

“Éiren,” she breathed.

“I see…” I went to where the clothes had scattered and placed them carefully back in the basket. “Well, then, Siobhan, the choice is yours. Leave now of your own volition, appreciating just what a wonderful life Róisín will have—as well as the fact that I am choosing to spare her—and hope that maybe one day she bothers to find you. Or…” I trailed off again, the words not needing to be said.

She dropped to her knees, reaching for me as her breath began to come in sharp, short gasps right before she began to sob.

“No… Éiren, please. I’ve given you everything. Everything. I’m yours. I’ll stop complaining about Lysette, about Aster, any of it. Please. Don’t do this.”

“God, Siobhan,” I said, turning away. “You are so… desperate.” I turned back to face her once more. “Don’t you have any fucking shame? I fear you’ve strayed too far from the girl I found in Cork who was known around town as the lass who got pregnant by her own father.”

As Siobhan gave a particularly loud sob, Julien took a step back, this new piece of information hitting him like a truck, but he said nothing. I got a twisted sort of thrill at the prospect of him dwelling on this information later.

“What will it be, Siobhan? You have three seconds before I make the decision.”

“Don’t kill me,” she begged. “Please… I’ll do anything.”

I closed my eyes, thinking over the dozens of decisions I had before me. Decisions about my daughters, about Lysette, about Hecate, and now about Siobhan and her future or lack thereof. And then—

“Fine,” I said, turning on a dime into the benevolent protector I often liked to play. “You can stay. The girls will need a nanny.” I reached out for Siobhan, wiping her tears and helping her to her feet. I pulled her in close, hugging her against me as I whispered in her ear. “Bear in mind, your decisions matter. One wrong move, and I’ll kill you and Róisín.”

She tensed in my arms, the words sinking in with the truth of them. Of course I would never hurt Róisín—she was almost as precious to me as Aster. But Siobhan had known me for long enough to not think any of my threats were empty. When she pulled away, she was nodding gratefully.

“Thank you,” she said before burying her face in my chest once more.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you understand that Lysette, my wife, will be at my side. Worshipped, cherished, sharing my bed. Not you.”

Siobhan’s entire body seemed to shrink, but she nodded.

“I understand.”

“Go,” I commanded them both, Julien watching Siobhan warily. Whether he heard my threat or not was unimportant. His opinion on the matter was irrelevant, and I wasn’t taking input. “I need to make plans.”

It wouldn’t be much longer now before Lysette would return to my side. After nearly forty years of separation, give or take, I was ready for this fight, this pointless conflict to be over.

Based on the rate of decline of Hecate’s power this time, I wasn’t sure it would even last beyond the full moon, a full two weeks before the new moon, when I usually had to find a new sacrifice. And now… I wondered if perhaps I should just let it, instead of chasing the next renewal.

Could it possibly be that perhaps the desertion of this quest, my heart’s desire to see my Rosie hailed globally for what she was, was the only path left for me to follow? I could let Hecate’s power fade, and her along with it, if it meant having Lysette back for good.

Because if I truly never got her back, there wasn’t even a reason for me to stay alive.

Lysette was stable but still unconscious when I got back to the hospital after Aster was taken. I sat beside the bed and gripped her hand, crying, begging her to forgive me without anything resembling words. I wasn’t sure what I would even say. “I gave in to the very thing I once told you made you weak, and now your daughter is in the hands of our greatest enemy?”

Didn’t seem like it would go over well, not that the situation itself was something that would smooth over easily.

I wept, pressing my face against her lap, both wishing she was awake to help and glad she wasn’t, so she wouldn’t know how I’d failed them both. I clung to her, my fists wrapped in the blankets, imagining what might happen if she were to wake up. What she would do if she found out I lost her daughter because I let Julien distract me, let him fool me again. Because I wasn’t able to do what I’d promised since the moment I found out Aster would be a part of our lives.

In my mind, Lysette opened her eyes, and her gaze met mine. She sat up slowly, pulling the breathing tube free. She gagged as the plastic device slowly came out, but she never broke our stare. Her face was filled with pain and rage, a mirror to my own—a funhouse mirror. Greater. More frightening. Inescapable. Just as deadly, and possibly even more so.

The Lysette in my head didn’t yell. She didn’t cry. She simply raised a hand toward me, right before she opened her lips and gave me what I deserved.

“Morte…”

I didn’t even summon my own magic to fight back as her poison drifted toward me and danced across my lips, waiting for me to take a breath so it could find purchase. I didn’t struggle, didn’t seek the current which would let me kill her before she could kill me.

I’d earned this.

It felt so real, seeing my worst nightmares blossom in my imagination. I kept my eyes open as long as I could, watching the veins in her face spreading, growing as dark as her once-olive eyes had become as the wicked thing within her showed itself once more. I knew it would be the last time I ever saw it, and not because she was done with it. I knew, beyond a doubt, that once she finished with me, she would go to Éiren, and I could only hope she would win and find herself again—find Aster—before he could convince her to be what he always wanted her to.

Finally, I gave over to it and sucked in a breath, feeling her poison burning my lungs, choking me…

I shook my head, my heart pounding, and heard the machine beeping out the steady rhythm of Lysette’s heartbeat. I looked down, and the blanket covering my sister was soaked. I’d cried until no tears remained as I played out the horrifying possibility.

It was better this way—with her not awake to hear how I failed her and Aster. Better she could be safe and cared for while I did what had to be done.

“I’m going to fix it, Lys,” I promised, kissing the back of her hand and hoping that, in some way, she’d know I meant it. “I’m going to figure out how to use this shit, and I’m going to get Aster back. I’ll use whatever magic I have to, to make it happen. No matter what it means for me. Don’t…” I choked on my words. “Don’t die before I can get back to you, okay? Aster’s going to need you. I’m going to need you. To either fix me, or… Well, I hope you can fix me.”

I pried my fingers free and stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Sybil had told me where to go, and I wasn’t going to waste another minute.

“I love you, Lys. I’m sorry.”

Unable to look at her, broken and let down, for one more second, I left the list of burner numbers I still had on the table beside her. As I walked through the hospital and out into the crisp sea air, I used a new phone to book myself on the first flight to Arizona, Clytius’s cloak in my backpack and the vial of his ashes on my neck.

***

“Welcome to Phoenix. We hope you enjoy your stay!”

As the voice sang out over the airplane speakers, I pulled my backpack out from under the seat in front of me and stood to grab my suitcase from the overhead bin.

Unlike my last solo flight back to America, I didn’t sleep. No dreams, no nightmares. Just staring. Thinking. Trying to research on the slow airplane Wi-Fi how to combine these items and use them, but any information about Clytius was minimal at best and confusing at worst.

I cried for the first hour of the drive from Phoenix to Sedona before reeling it back in, hardening myself to the tasks before me. I could work on reclaiming the person, the better version of myself, that I’d found out in the cabin after this was done, but for now, I couldn’t be a soft, sniveling mess and still manage to get Aster back, destroy the ring’s power, and kill every last fucking Black Rose.

Starting with Julien.

The minute I got in the car, I tried to call Sebastian, but his phone was off. I sent him a text, trying to impress upon him the urgency of my situation.

Bea: Please call me back ASAP. Everything has gone to shit, and there’s way too much for a text. I need to know everything you can find about the Titan Clytius and any rituals involving him or artifacts related to him.

Still no wiser as to how I was supposed to combine these items, I drove the remaining two hours in silence, the only sound the wind whipping my hair around the car from the open windows, centering me. The winding highways and the way my ears popped were unnerving. My fingers clutched the wheel like a lifeline as I drove between sheer cliff edges that only existed because someone had blown apart the stone to allow a road to pass through.

I only vaguely noticed the scenery at all and took no joy in the majesty of it—quite the opposite. The tops of the red, uneven peaks as I got closer to my destination jutted skyward, like fingers that might snatch me where I sat and pull me down into some miserable, inescapable hell. I nearly welcomed the thought, knowing not much could be worse than the one I was currently living in.

After what felt like the longest drive of my life, I pulled up to an inn near one of the more secluded hiking spots. Even as the cheapest one in the area, it was over two hundred per night and decorated like someone’s occult wet dream with crystals, bundles of herbs, and signs bearing phrases often used by non-magic folk who identified as “witches.”

Despite the cheesiness of the place, the mystical energy in the air was thick, creating a rising agitation within me. The magic was tingling in my veins, making my fingers shake with the urge to pull from every single person walking around the lobby and set it free. The idiots were abuzz with excitement, claiming they could feel it, that the energy portals were reviving them and powering up the crystals they wore around their necks—likely fake and purchased from the gift shop.

I sneered, looking away from them and pushing down the rising tide of dark magic which threatened to burst from me like an explosion, uncontrolled. It wanted to be free, to draw me in even further. The way this place stoked my magic and made it sit right on the surface at all times was unnerving. It made me want to test what I might be capable of, between my newly discovered power and the boost I got from the magic in the atmosphere. I turned away from the tourists, ignoring the essence of their lives, which surrounded me like a cocoon, luring me closer, tempting me.

“Hello,” the clerk said in an overly cheery voice that made me want to stick my knife in her side—not enough to truly hurt her, but enough to make me feel a little better. “How can I—”

“Checking in,” I interrupted, my capacity for fake smiles and small talk entirely exhausted. “Bridget Bishop.”

“Like the witch in Salem,” she said, still trying to recover the conversation. I instantly regretted using the alias stolen from a fellow member of my coven before our leader had most of us tried and executed. I hadn’t expected to find a history buff with a special interest in my own history. “Yeah, I’m a big fan of the Salem Witch Trials.”

A big fan. Of a time period steeped in bloodshed and terror. One where real people died horribly, betrayed by those they trusted.

Where my own life changed forever when Julien Chevalier showed up to save me.

What a fucking joke.

The hanging light overhead shattered with the force of my anger, making the clerk scream and duck away from the shards of glass, but I didn’t. I remained standing, pretending nothing had happened. It was a stupid move, but it was also enough of a catharsis that I managed a cold smile.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching over the counter for the key she’d been about to hand me, not waiting for her to recover. “Room twelve? Perfect.”

Once my bags were safely stowed, I changed out of my glass-covered clothes and went out to the trail to scope out my destination. Even from the parking lot at the base of the trail, I could see even more people swarming, clad in clothes that looked like they were part of a Stevie Nicks and Keith Richards cosplay convention.

“Excuse me,” someone said from behind me, and I stepped to the side without even fully taking in what I was seeing as she walked past, her eyes moving to my tan leather jacket. “Thanks! Love that jacket.”

The compliment didn’t even register, because by the time she said it, I finally realized what she was wearing, and all I could do was stare, dumbfounded. This woman had on a white silk, Grecian-style gown and held a bouquet of—of all fucking things—black painted roses. And she wasn’t alone. At least half a dozen other brides were taking to the trails in their full wedding getups, complete with grooms, bridal parties, and photographers in tow. Dozens of people here for no other reason that it seemed like “fun.”

Doing this during the day would never work.

I trekked back, haunted by the sight of the happy couples, pledging their all-too short lives to each other. My own wedding dress was simple and conservative, my puritanical worldview still strong. I remembered the arguments between Lysette and me about it, about how Julien loved me in the low-cut, French-style ballgowns she dressed me in like her own personal doll, but how I needed to feel like myself on my wedding day. I needed to be able to imagine my mother there and not covering her eyes in shame at me exposing so much of myself.

Images of Julien in his stark white finery, arriving two hours after we were supposed to have already been married, swam in my mind, the color reflecting his loyalty to the coven he would later throw away like rotted leftovers, and nothing I did could stop the flood of memories I’d rather not revisit.

I didn’t think it was possible for my mood to darken any further, but it had. I locked myself in my hotel room, closing the blackout curtains and laying in the dark, tucking away the parts of me which radiated with the pain of once again knowing I had led my family to ruin. I spent the hours reminding myself of my tasks, over and over. Not the reasons for them. Not the consequences that would inevitably await me when I was done. Just the objectives, clean and concise and clinical.

When I awoke, no sunlight peeked around my curtains. I sat straight up, thankfully with no memory of whatever dream left me covered in a sheen of sweat and with a pounding pulse. I leaped from the bed and pulled my hair into a ponytail, glancing at the mirror on the back of the door before I left.

The girl before me looked so young—far too young to have been through all I had. Mid-twenties at best, and only that old because of the bags beneath her puffy, red eyes. She looked nothing like my mother, whom I’d always so resembled until we had to change my face, and even less like him, now that his eyes no longer sat in my face.

And yet Julien had found me. Known me, despite my face and hair being different. Of course, he did. He’d know me anywhere, just as I’d know him. It wasn’t his face or his voice or his smell, either. It was the way my body, my magic responded when he was near. And if I hadn’t been so focused on Lysette’s condition and Aster’s mental state, I might not have missed it at the zoo. I might have been able to keep my distance.

To do what I should have.

Killed him. Just like I’d planned.

Suddenly, the mirror cracked, and my face split into a million smaller pieces. With the similarity to the light earlier, I thought I’d lost control of the magic for just a second, the energy portals even more powerful at night. I waited to feel the come-down, the rush that came with using it, but it never did. Instead, I felt a searing, stinging pain in my hand and looked down to find my knuckles covered in blood.

I began to laugh hysterically, unable to stop as I watched the crimson beads fall to the floor. I hadn’t even realized that I’d lashed out. I thought I’d done a decent job of repressing the emotions that might cripple me, but I was wrong. My body was going to let it out no matter what I told myself. I tore a strip of linen from the sheet of my bed, knowing whatever charge they added to my bill wouldn’t matter in the long run, and wrapped my knuckles tightly. I never was as good as Lysette at stuff like that, knowing she could always pick up the slack.

Now, I had no idea if she ever would or could again.

By the time I made it back out to the trail, it was late enough that no one else seemed to be willing to brave the terrain, the entire area being a “dark zone” at night to keep light pollution to a minimum. I barely even noticed the way my feet moved over the fine gravel and slick red stone which made up parts of the path, only stopping to pay attention when I actually slipped on the mud created by a rare snowfall, which had begun to melt.

“Fuck,” I hissed, looking down at the scrapes on my hands from catching myself, adding to my other cuts and bruises that hadn’t been healed because Lysette was still in a coma. “Fuck this. Fuck hiking. Fuck Éiren. Fuck Julien. Fuck literally everything and everyone except my sisters.”

It became a kind of mantra as I kept going. By the time I made it onto a plateau where the magical energy felt the strongest, my knees were as bloody as my hands, and I was covered in the rust-colored dirt that so reminded me of Aster’s silky waves, blowing in the breeze…

A loud, sharp crash broke me free of my thoughts. I turned and saw a snow-topped cactus fall to the ground at my feet, a black mark having severed it in two, sending a stab of fear through me.

Magic.

I was losing control quickly.

I climbed up to the center of the bluff using the thin wires they’d installed as handholds on the uneven, steep ascent. Here, the ground seemed the driest, having spent the day in the Arizona sun, intense even in the cool air. I pulled out the cloak and ashes, setting them on the bare, red earth.

I stared at them for a long time, trying to feel for anything that might indicate what I was supposed to do now. Sybil said I needed to combine their essence along with something of my own to create a new artifact which would counter Hecate’s ring. I still hadn’t heard from Sebastian, which meant I was totally on my own as far as figuring it out.

I ran my fingers over the matted, ancient fur and felt a tingle as it pushed back at my magic, trying to force it into submission. I held the ashes up to the full moon, letting the light illuminate the vial then pulled open the lid and immediately felt the energy around me waver, much stronger than the cloak. Together, however, the potency of Clytius’s remains was enough to counter even the power of this mystical nuclear plant. My magic yearned for an outlet, but it was shying away from the vial, and I had to fight the urge to put it down and run.

After nearly an hour of simply examining the items before me, I released a single scream into the night, my frustration reaching a boiling point and preferring to let it come out in my voice rather than in that dark thing which kept rearing its head.

“Fuck! Fucking damn it!”

I could only think of one thing to do, and I had no idea whether or not it might work. I smoothed the cloak out as much as I could, given its decayed state. I stood next to it, holding the vial as far away from me as I could so it wouldn’t spill on me, and turned it over, pouring the powder over the cloak.

Nothing happened. But that made sense, since Sybil said it would require something of mine to make it work. I knew what worked for the Ring of Hecate and with the cave where the ashes were, so I figured I may as well try it with the relics of her enemy.

“Here goes nothing…”

I was getting a little too comfortable talking to myself.

I unwrapped my hand and clenched my fist, reopening the scab that had started to form. I held my hand out over the ash covered fur and let the blood, the blood of both Hecate and Clytius, drip.

Still nothing.

I let it continue to fall, hoping just a little bit more might do the trick, but the energy remained the same, with the damper provided by the cloak and ashes like a cool breeze in the already chilly desert night. The moon was glinting off of the blood on my hand, making the ruby and sapphires in my ring glow…

I froze, then turned my hand to look at my ring. Hecate’s power was tied to a ring—something tangible and wearable by the bearer. This ring was mine, and had been for over three hundred years. It was once a token of Julien’s love, of his devotion to me, of my hope that someday I’d stop being afraid of letting someone in. Now, it was a symbol of his betrayal, one I’d forgotten about the second he put his hands on me.

I yanked the piece of metal from my finger and had to convince myself not to throw it as far as I could. Instead, I dropped it on top of the ashes, and, for the first time, I felt something change. The energy coming from the collection of items in front of me was no longer like a black hole, absorbing and dampening everything, but more like a swirling whirlpool, drawing my magic from me, heightening it as it pulled it in.

I fought against it, worried that if I let it, I would be left without any power. I would need my magic to face Éiren and to kill my traitor of a former husband. Even armed with the magic-dampening power of the Titan’s artifacts, I had no guarantees whatever I made would stop his own fucking descendant.

But it didn’t stop. The force of it was strong enough that I couldn’t even back away. I’d given a piece of me, a piece of my heart, my soul.

I had no choice but to trust this would work.

With every ounce of willpower I had… I let go.

I released the stopper I’d held in place against the dark energy inside me since I arrived in this powder keg of power and felt the waves of ecstasy and rapture come over me as my magic found an outlet. I felt it flowing into the items before me, watched them glowing in the moonlight, then glowing on their own.

Brighter.

Whiter.

Illuminated of their own accord.

And then a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, setting both the ground before me and the pile of relics on fire, burning hotter and brighter than any flame I’d ever conjured.

And then… it was over.

I fell to my knees as the power rushed back into me and gasped for air, clutching my stomach as a wave of nausea hit, then gazed down at what was once my only hope.

The pile of dust was already blowing away in the wind, but it no longer held Clytius’s power. There was nothing in them anymore. The only thing that remained was a blackened, twisted piece of circular metal which was once my wedding ring.

With shaking fingers, I picked it up, still hot and burning my skin, though I didn’t care. I tried to force a breath, unable to fill my lungs as I realized how well and truly fucked I was.

Lysette was dying.

Aster was gone.

I’d given myself over to the dark magic.

And the only thing that might have saved any of us had been destroyed before my eyes.

With all the strength I had left, I screamed into the night, without words this time. Over and over I wailed until my voice went hoarse, hearing the scurry of wildlife away from this animalistic agony.

I only stopped when I heard a harsh laugh behind me.

I scrambled to my feet and spun. Hecate stood before me at the edge of the cliff. Her deep brown skin was ethereal in the glow of the moon, and she seemed to float despite her feet being firmly on the ground.

She walked to me and glanced down at the remains of my attempt to subvert her power—Éiren’s power. She raised a single eyebrow, her face unreadable, then looked up at me and wrapped an impossibly strong hand around my chin, forcing me to look at her.

“You dare to use the gifts I gave you—that I continue to give you—against me?” she snarled.

“No,” I protested, my voice garbled due to her grip on my jaw and from screaming, wishing I had anyone else, anyone at all who could help, but she was the only one left. “No, I just needed to stop him. I need to get my sister back. Please. Help me.”

She released me, and once again, I fell to the earth, my bloodied knees scraping painfully against the dirt.

“Why would I do that?” she asked with a sneer. “I already told you. I don’t care who wields my power now. It is of no consequence to me. So long as magic exists, I will remain, and I will seek it out, claiming it as my own, and only mine, again. So tell me, dear descendant. Why should I help you, when you’ve rejected the gifts your father so willingly accepts?”

I looked up at her, tears welling in my eyes. I'd hoped, despite the evidence, our last encounter had been a dream. But there was no doubt about it now that she stood before me, taunting me once more, and her presence brought me no comfort. The centuries I’d spent thinking that the being before me was something worth revering suddenly felt foolish.

“Do you really care so little for those who follow you?” I spat, my nose running with the failing effort to not cry. “Who share your blood and your magic and would use them for good?”

She laughed again, turning her back on me.

“You may have done your little hunting trips under the guise of doing ‘good,’ but let’s not lie to each other or ourselves, Beatrice. You have never once done them for anyone but yourself. You did them as part of your own vendetta. You were never my warrior or even your sister’s. You were a leaf in the wind, going where you wanted with no regard for others.” She looked at me over her shoulder, and a flash of something like pity crossed her face. In that instant, I could see simple, kindly, crazy Ysabel beneath the face of the stunning deity, but before I could fully register the change, the hard expression was back, and she began to walk away from me. “To have everything you want, to achieve what you need, you must sacrifice all you have. That little ring was nothing. It was a symbol, a piece of metal, not a true part of you. You must give your whole self over, and you must be willing to lose everything. I think you may finally be ready to do that. But there’s only one way to find out.”

She vanished into the night before I could react.

I sat for several minutes, feeling the stream of tears cascading over my cheeks. Then I let loose another cry which split the night, my power infusing my voice so that I saw it—a physical presence that burst from me, surrounding me with darkness until I could no longer find the light of the moon. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, and still, my scream went on, no longer under my own control, but an entity of its own.

I wailed and roared for hours, letting my magic fly free, not knowing what or who it might be seeking to fuel itself or to strike out at in the night and not caring. I would die for this cause, to stop him, but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my sisters and never would be. If letting them die was the only way to win, I was going to lose.

And nothing… nothing would be okay if I did.

I screamed and sobbed for so long I lost track of the movement of the moon and stars above me, and, eventually, my body gave into exhaustion, and I passed out on the bluff.

I awoke in the midday sun, feeling the vibrant intensity of it beginning to burn my skin even in the brisk winter air. As soon as I was conscious of where I was, I also realized a hand was on my back, and someone was speaking.

“Hey,” a soft, frightened, unfamiliar voice said. “You okay?”

I opened my eyes and scrambled back, but I knew within seconds that this person was not a threat. They had not an ounce of magic to their name, and they looked at me with concern.

“Yeah,” I grunted, sitting up and starting to shiver against the cold. A tiny clink caught my attention, and I realized my ring had still been in my hand and had fallen to the stone.

“I think we need to get you to a hospital,” the young woman said as I stared at what was left of my wedding ring, her male companion pacing behind her on his phone. “My boyfriend is calling for help.”

“I’m fine,” I brushed her off, grabbing the destroyed piece of jewelry and starting to get to my feet, but she put a hand out.

“You were struck by lightning,” she said. “You need to stay still.”

“What?”

I looked around and saw why she might think that. Not only had people likely seen the strike, but the dark spot where Clytius’s relics were destroyed was directly beneath where I’d been laying, and all around me for dozens of feet, cacti and shrubbery had been burnt to nothing.

I stood despite her protestations. “No, I… I found it like this. I was just… tired from the hike.” I knew it was a lame excuse, and she likely wouldn’t believe me, but I turned and started back down the path at almost a run, ignoring both the treacherous terrain and her calling after me.

I pulled out my phone to check the time and froze, one foot in the air, almost tumbling over a precipice atop a hundred foot fall.

Sebastian. It was a text with a picture attachment.

Seb: I’m sorry. Sebastian can’t come to the phone right now.

With shaking fingers, I clicked the attachment, knowing, before I even opened it, what awaited me, but unable to stop myself. When it loaded, my stomach lurched, and I vomited bile directly onto the path in front of me.

Sebastian lay, clearly dead. One eye was swollen and bruised, covered in blood. A red stain spread up his shirt from his groin, where he’d been mutilated, and bruises blossomed over every inch of visible flesh. A single black rose lay on his chest, tied with a bow.

I stared far longer than I should have, unable to look away from the horror, the destruction of this kind, gentle person who dared to stand between Éiren and what he wanted. Who dared to care for my sisters and me. After my stomach and eyes were empty of anything resembling liquid, I reached a finger up to close the image, but what I saw in the background turned my grief and devastation back to a burning hot rage.

A mirror was reflecting back the people present and responsible for Sebastian’s death. Éiren held the phone, a twisted and serene smile on his cruel face. Beside him, Siobhan was staring at Éiren with a reverent gaze despite the fact that she was knelt before Julien, whose pants were at his knees, one hand guiding her head against him and the other hanging limply at his side, loosely holding a dagger dripping with Sebastian’s blood.

I started walking again, but my eyes weren’t on the path. My eyes were on the phone as my fingers tapped out a reply as quickly as I could before I pulled the battery from the phone and let the dark magic flow freely, turning the small device into no more than a jumble of charred metal and plastic.

Bea: I’m going to fucking kill every last one of you. And I’m going to make it so, so slow.

I was on the balcony in Triora.

There was no way I could be here, and yet, here I was, sipping strawberry-flavored rosé. The views were just as beautiful as I remembered, and a strange peace settled over me. Like I had been gone a long, long time, and this was always supposed to be home.

“Momma,” I heard a small, familiar voice call, and I turned around to find Aster looking at me, holding two dresses. My heart fluttered at seeing her, here, whole, happy. “Papa said to ask you which I should wear and to tell you he’s no good with choosing.”

“Actually…” a voice like cool stone with a delicate brogue announced. “I said I knew Momma liked choosing clothes best.”

A painfully handsome, sunset-colored head came around the corner of… wherever we were and smiled at me. He leaned against the wall and looked at me with a hunger in his silver eyes.

Longing and sadness washed over me, almost akin to the feeling of a small child whose parent had just returned from a long journey. I wanted to rush into his arms and have him kiss me until the pain and the pressure and the exhaustion of trying to hold it all together were gone. I wanted to tell him how hard it had been to try to forget him. To tell him I always knew he’d come around and be the man I knew was inside.

Éiren crouched and whispered something in Aster’s ear, and she giggled before darting away to some unknown room. He paused for a moment, gazing at the ground, then drew his chin up so he was looking at me once more and used a hand to beckon me to him. I wanted so badly to go. So fucking badly to drop my stone-solid resolve and just surrender to what I wanted to be true rather than what I knew to be.

“Come on, Rosie. I won’t bite—hard.”

He gave me that smile I had never been able to resist, and my entire being lit up inside like a Christmas tree. My body shook with the effort of resisting what I wanted, but I still didn’t move. This would all be a trap, somehow, some way. Aster’s interaction with him confirmed to me that none of this could possibly be real, and yet… the warm breeze on my neck and the smell of Éiren’s cologne challenged what I could have sworn I knew.

He waited a few minutes more, then sighed and stood, walking to me so quickly that I backed up and found myself pressed against the balcony, his hands clutching the metal rail on either side of me, leaving me utterly trapped and defenseless.

Fear surged through me, and I only hoped that, whatever he did to me, Aster would never know. That Bea would find her and keep her far, far away from this maniac.

The shake of my hands caused me to lose my grip on the wineglass, and we both watched as it tumbled down and shattered on the cobbled street below. But then my eyes went straight to his, searching, judging, measuring his intentions.

His molten metal eyes were soft, loving, almost saddened at my reaction. I’d seen that look before—many times. The last time was in Okinawa when Aster was conceived, but it was a look as familiar to me as his very name.

“I love you,” he stated plainly. “Lysette, I love you. Please don’t be afraid of me. You have never needed to be afraid of me.”

“Liar,” I interjected, surprising him and myself, not only because I meant it and was willing to say it, but because there was no malice in it. I was sad but sure. “You chased me to the ends of the earth and back to try to control me and have actively tried to hurt me and the people I love at every step along the way. You will never change, Éiren.”

As I said it, I realized how long it had been since I said his name to him. How long it had been since I’d said his name at all with any feeling besides hate or agony.

He looked wounded. But rather than concede defeat, he wrapped his hand around my head and pulled me into a kiss. A kiss I hadn't realized I wanted so badly.

“Please… please, Lysette. I can’t lose another moment with you. It will kill me.”

Hearing his voice so desperate was unnerving. I’d become as good at reading through Éiren’s tones as I was at controlling my dark magic. There was no guise there, and it sent me reeling, having expected his usual series of manipulations.

So, instead of pushing him away like I knew I should, I deepened the kiss, missing the feel of his soft lips, the smell of him. He took my hand and placed something cool and metallic on my finger, leaning into my ear and saying, “I think you lost this.”

I pulled back, and a tear dripped down my cheek, all the emotions within me fighting to be acknowledged.

“How? I flushed it in Japan.” I brought my hand up to look at the silver and emerald ring I knew he’d somehow managed to locate because he was Éiren Connolly, and nothing would ever be lost to him if he wanted it. “I—”

My words choked me as surely as if Éiren had used his magic on me, and I looked at the ring in horror. It was not the art déco flower he’d presented me when we got married again, but rather a rough, dark, dull metal ring with a flat, round accent bearing what looked like a circular maze.

The wheel turns on.

“No,” I managed to bark out before a surge of electric power raced through my veins, and I watched helplessly as thick vines of black crept up under the skin on my arms. My light and dark magic were at war within me, and I attempted to control them. But it was a pointless effort, because whatever he had done, whatever the Ring of Hecate was currently burying inside me, was burning away both of those sides, leaving only sheer, raw, power.

I felt a burning pain as some of that power erupted from my mouth, a shining, obsidian plasma which tugged at my very soul, threatening to erase me entirely. Everything hurt, everything was on fire, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Someone was calling my name from a distance, someone male. Éiren? Perhaps he hadn’t realized it would do this, that it would ruin me and make me something else completely. Every bone in my body cracked, the open nerves came alive, and I screamed in anguish through the airways blocked with whatever force was claiming me.

I heard the voice again.

“Lysette?”

Every shred of humanity inside me melted away and left me a wraith; not fully alive, but without the kindness to let me die.

Please, I thought to the disembodied voice, please kill me.

“Open your eyes, Lysette,” the voice said, and only then did I realize it wasn’t Éiren. But then, who? “Open your eyes, and we can end this.”

I can’t, I begged to the voice, though my mouth wouldn’t work. Please, just kill me.

“She’s in there,” I could hear him say. “Do what you need to. Wake her up.”

“Signore, if we force it, she might suffer extensive damage—”

“It’s my decision.”

“Her sister—”

“May have brought her here, but I have final say when it comes to her medical care. Here, my power of attorney and ID.”

There was a shuffling of papers followed by the sounds of some kind of cart being wheeled in before something new entered my system. Something warm and chemical rather than magical, and all at once, it was like time reversed. I was outside my body, watching the scene I’d just experienced play backward.

I wished I could pause it for just one moment. One single moment to look at his beautiful face while it was still like this—soft, repentant. Not full of rage and cruel ambition.

Because I knew… the second I got free of whatever was happening here, I would have one directive. One thing I had to do for me, Bea, Aster, and all the witches—and non-witches—of the world.

“Lysette… time to wake up.”

Suddenly, everything was fluorescent and sterile, and machines were beeping all around me. It was disorienting, and nausea roiled in my gut.

The voice… I knew that voice.

Adrenaline kicked in, and I raised my hands to cast, to blast away anyone who dared get to close, especially him. But his magic pressed against mine gently, a magic even more ingrained in my existence than Éiren’s, keeping me in check for just a moment longer.

The sounds of the hospital brought me back to the present, however, and I watched a nurse shuffle past, then painfully turned my neck to the left, feeling the tube in my throat pull, and looked up into the hazel, tear-filled eyes of my brother.

Julien was sitting by the bed, my tiny blued hand in his, and he looked like a kid who’d been caught with cigarettes under his bed. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sob pushed its way to the front, and, with a quiver of his lips, he began to cry in a way I hadn’t seen since we were children, not even when Father died.

“Lysette…” he choked out. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. He’s gone too far, and I can’t…” He took a shuddering breath, steadying himself. “Je suis un imbécile, just like you always said. I thought you were weak. I thought I could do it better. So many years trying to follow along like a good little boy, to make Father proud, only to never feel like I was enough. I wanted to be a leader like him—strong, in control… revered. I didn’t think about what that meant or what set you apart from him. I was arrogant and stupid and wrong. He’s not revered. It’s fear, and I’m fucking terrified of him and what he can and will do and make me do. The things I’ve done because he commanded it—not just that, but the things I’ve done because I wanted to, because I wanted him to see me as his equal… I can’t take them back, and I hate myself for every single one of them. I…”

Pain greater even than before swept across his face, and he bowed his head to the bed. I wanted to tell him to stop, to go, to leave before he died right here. But the feeling of my throat being blocked was still there, and I realized I was hooked up to a breathing tube, so Julien kept going.

“I hurt Sebastian. He was unconscious when we left, and I don’t know if he survived. It was fucking barbaric. I can still hear him. Still feel it. And… I took your daughter. He sent me, and I went, and now he has her. I need help, and I couldn’t figure out where else to go. He found you here, traced the burner numbers he took from Sebastian’s house, the ones you left him in case of emergencies. I came back as soon as…”

He looked up at me, his eyes red and ringed in tears.

“I’m sorry I had them wake you. But I can’t figure this out. I can’t do it, and I don’t think anyone but you could ever get through to him. I’m not even sure you can anymore, but I don’t know anyone else who could do what has to be done if you can’t. It’s only you.”

The words he was saying were coming at me too fast to process. My head spun with uncertainty. How did I get here, and where was here? If Éiren had managed to get Aster, did that mean he was ready to make her his next sacrifice?

Where was Bea? There was no way she’d ever let Aster out of her sight.

I grabbed onto the tube controlling my breathing, no longer needed, and tugged it, feeling it tear at the delicate tissues of my throat. I flung the plastic away and clasped my neck with my hand, letting the healing magic, my reparéz, do its job, my healing coming faster than it ever had before.

“Bea,” I choked. “Where is Bea? If you hurt her… if you killed her…” The golden-white dissipated, and black began to waft off my fingertips. “I swear to all the gods that have ever been and on the grave of our father, I will kill you without a second thought.”

Julien shook his head quickly, his face clearly showing that he was resigned to any fate I had in store for him, not even shrinking away from my morte. It was that, more than anything, which stayed my hand.

“No,” he nearly whispered. “I didn’t hurt her. Not physically, anyway.” He looked like he might vomit from his own words. “And I don’t know where she is. I followed my orders. I distracted Bea, and Siobhan grabbed Aster and got us out. We left Bea at a zoo somewhere nearby.”

A shudder rolled across my skin. “Siobhan was touching Aster?”

My brain came back to life enough that a tidbit of an unpleasant memory pushed its way to the front of my mind, and I remembered she was the mother of Aster’s sister. I doubted that fact would prevent her from hurting my daughter, but I had to hope.

“I know,” Jules said, more tears coming. “I was fucking stupid. I took for granted how much freedom you gave us. Always trusting us to do the right thing, never using commands except when it was dire, and I fucking blew it. Éiren uses commands for everything. I’ve literally taken shits on his orders, I’ve fucked…” He broke off, leaving me to only guess what or who he’d been about to say. It wasn’t hard to figure out. “If he wanted me to go with Siobhan, to take Aster, that was what I did. No choice in the matter.”

I crawled out of the hospital bed, my limbs strengthening under the slow healing from my own magic, though sickened and heartbroken all at once. I looked around for my clothes but found none. Thankfully, a small duffel, clearly left by Bea, sat at my bedside, and I ripped off the hospital gown. Julien averted his eyes as I at least got undergarments on before I straightened up and crossed my arms.

“Look me in the eyes, Julien Jacques Henri Nicolas Chevalier. You turned your back on me, on Bea, on our family… and on the memory of our Papa. The least you can do is look at me.”

He slowly turned to face me, the shame and regret plain on his face, and it was infuriating. How dare he feel bad—for himself? I wanted to slap him, to send my poison at him, to scream and say a million hurtful things about how Father was wrong, how Julien was too weak to ever stand on his own.

Instead, I spat, “I heard you were raising Siobhan’s daughter.” It seemed the least incriminating of his current crimes to begin with, which said a lot.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets and fighting the urge to look at his own feet. “Siobhan and Éiren may have made her, but…” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Róisín. Her name is Róisín. And she’s mine as much as anyone’s. She knows me as Uncle Julien, but I’ve spent more time with her than either of her parents. And… she needs your help, too.”

He stood, running a hand through his hair, and handed me a sweater from the duffel. I slipped it on and stood there, arms crossed, waiting for him to continue.

“He threatened her. Siobhan got too bold, and he said the next time she steps out of line, he’ll kill them both. And now that he has Aster, the daughter of the woman he actually loves, I don’t trust him not to hurt her.”

Mon dieu, he brought her here.

“You took her from her mother?” I looked to the door, as if Siobhan might suddenly burst in. “Surely, you didn’t bring that bitch with you.”

“Never,” he scoffed. “And I couldn’t get her out. He’d notice if she was missing, and if he didn’t, Siobhan or Aster would. He sent me to find you, but I plan to tell him you were already gone when I got here. I’m begging, Lysette. I don’t expect forgiveness, not with everything I’ve done, but don’t punish her. She’s just a child. No more at fault than your own daughter.”

I couldn’t stop myself any longer. I slapped him.

“How dare you? How fucking dare you even speak about my daughter, after what you’ve done?”

He ducked his head in shame once more, and I felt that familiar darkness surge deep in my chest. Before I could even consider whether to use it, he took two steps toward me to close the space between us, startling me, and his hands went to my upper arms. Even though the expression on his face was one of desperation rather than malice, a heated urge rushed through me, and I scowled, wanting nothing less than to be touched by him.

“Back the fuck up,” I said, and I heard the command echo in my mind, as if giving him one I never could again.

But Julien’s hands released me in an instant, and he stepped back until he met the wall. The movements were reluctant, robotic, forced.

“As you command,” he said with a meaningful tilt of his head.

It hit me like lightning, and I staggered back at the gravity of what just occurred. I gave him an order, an official command, and he’d obeyed. My mind went to the day we watched the house burn after he set it ablaze, and how I’d tried to command him then. How I tried to implore him for his help in killing Siobhan, in saving our family, and he hadn’t even heard it. His alliance was already with Éiren.

But now, he not only heard and obeyed, but outwardly acknowledged a command I hadn't even meant to issue. I felt the urge to cry, to throw myself into my brother’s arms and thank him while beating him senseless for all he’d put us through, but I knew making a plan to face Éiren would need to come first.

I could ruin Julien’s stupid face later.

“You wouldn’t have come to me if you hadn’t been certain of my answer.”

“I hoped I knew your answer,” he corrected me. “But I had no choice. The White Orchid should have always been my home, and I threw it away like an idiot. No matter what happens, you have my loyalty. Whether you let me back in or not.”

This was the Julien I’d known for so long, who I thought I’d have forever. Not the stranger who’d betrayed us. This was Jules, my older brother, who was my best friend for hundreds of years, long before Éiren or Bea came into our lives.

But I wanted to be crystal clear, so there was no doubt what the punishment for turning his back ever again would be. “The White Orchid and I will have your loyalty, today, tomorrow, and forever, or you will die. That is a command that will transcend the rest of your life. Understood?”

He nodded his head.

“If I was ever stupid enough to make the same mistake twice, I’d expect and deserve no less,” he said, reaching out a cautious hand.

I extended mine to him but paused just before touching.

“And you will tell Bea exactly what you’ve been doing the last ten years. Every… single… thing. You will make it up to her, and you will not expect a single thing from her in return except for the hatred you deserve for what you’ve done to her. That is also a command.”

His face fell even further, if that was possible.

“I don’t even know how I’ll face her at all, if I’m honest.”

I studied his face, bereft with guilt.

“Get the fuck over it. You made choices. Time to face the consequences, whatever they may be.”

He nodded, gratitude replacing the desperation on his face, and grabbed my hand. I felt his fingers close tightly around mine, like he didn’t want to let go.

Part of me didn’t, either.

“You have my word.” A ding! Interrupted the moment, and he pulled his phone from his pocket to look at it. “He’s checking in. I don’t have much time before I need to leave. Do you have any ideas? I’ve burned every bridge I have that doesn’t lead back to the Black Roses, so as far as I know, it’s you and me against the world again.”

I pursed my lips, thinking, but before I could say anything, the phone began to ring… and ring… and ring.

“Just fucking answer it.”

He sighed and put a finger to his lips, as if I needed to be told, then picked up the call. “Yeah?” He paused, listening. “No. No, she’s not here. Discharged a day ago. Yeah, probably already on her way back stateside, if I had to guess. No, no sign of her, either.”

I could hear Éiren’s voice through the speaker, and my heart soared while my stomach churned.

“She does…? No, no, of course I… I said yes, I want to talk to her.” There was a longer pause, and I could hear the softness of a child’s voice on the other end. “Hey. Yeah, I miss you, too. You being a good girl for your mommy and papa, Peachy?”

My heart stopped as I heard what he called her. The exact same pet name Bea spent the last eight years calling Aster.

“Okay. Good. Have some ice cream for me, okay? And make sure you share with Aster. Uh huh. Love you, too, Peachy.”

He hung up with a sigh, staring at the phone, then looked back at me and, seeing the expression on my face, said, “What is it?”

“Peachy.” I nodded toward the phone. “You called her Peachy. I’m guessing it isn’t a coincidence that Bea calls Aster the same thing.”

I watched his own heart break in his eyes for several long seconds before he cleared his throat, looking away.

“No. We used to… We used to talk about having kids. A lot. Talk about what we’d name them, nicknames we’d call them. That was a favorite of Bea’s, but I’d never really been that fond of it. I guess…” He took a deep breath. “I guess part of me knew I made a mistake, even right away, and when Róisín came into the picture, it was a tiny way of holding onto the future I’d given up.” He shuddered, then pocketed the phone. “My flight back leaves in six hours. Any chance you want to come with me?”

“I need to find Bea first,” I said, shaking my head. “Though, knowing her, she’s already on her way to your house to get herself killed—again. And, in that regard, let me add to the conditions of your return to the coven. If Beatrice dies… if she or Aster dies… all bets are off. You will be a bloody, unidentifiable mess before you can even think about stopping time.”

“Then we better get moving,” he said, not even a hint of an argument on his face. “I’ll go to the airport and book your flight. My treat.”

“Éiren won’t be checking your credit card?” I asked, knowing the extent to which he’d been watching me before I disappeared.

“Probably. But I take out a few dollars in cash every time he has me buy something. Over the last nine years, I’ve saved up quite a bit.”

Smart. Exactly the kind of thing I would have told him to do, if he’d asked for my help instead of sleeping with the enemy—probably quite literally, knowing that both he and Éiren enjoyed the company of men as well as women.

“Fine. I’m going to get in touch with Bea.” I picked up the burner beside the bed, but Julien grabbed my hand.

“Wait. Don’t… don’t tell her yet. I l-love her, but she’s not the most discreet when it comes to Éiren. If she knows I’m defecting, she might give me away.”

I held onto the phone but didn’t dial, momentarily caught up on the way he said he loved her, like he’d spent so long trying not to admit it that it was like a physical block on the words. “And if she kills you?”

He gave a little chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “She might either way. And honestly, I’d deserve it.” He hugged me tightly, and I felt his tears once more before he pulled back, wiping them away. “I’ll go to the airport and buy you a ticket. If Bea’s still here, just get on a different flight.”

I stared at him, knowing how terrified he was of facing her, despite the way he tried to make light of it. I wanted to say something else, something cutting, but I also knew if Éiren learned of his actions, this may be the last time I ever spoke with my brother. I thought that day had come and gone so many times now, but facing it, knowing it might yet be coming, made it even harder.

“He’ll be monitoring your phone, too, I assume?” I said.

He gave a dry laugh. “He monitors everything. If you thought he was a control freak before, since losing you a second time, he’s been out of his fucking mind.”

I reached into the duffel and pulled out one of the three remaining burner phones, then tossed it to him.

“In case of emergencies only. We don’t need him figuring out you have it and using it against us.” He nodded, then pocketed it. “And one more thing. One final command—an official one.”

He looked at me warily, the light shake in my voice as evident to him as it was to me, and it was enough of an indication that he wasn’t going to like what I had to say.

“If things go bad…” I gulped, trying to force the words out. “If it looks like there will be a body count… You get Bea and Aster out. Róisín, too, if you need to. I don’t care what Bea says, what she does. You will leave me behind and get any of them that are there out.”

Julien’s mouth fell open. “Leave you with him?”

“Yes,” I said. “At the end of the day, I’m the reason we all ended up here, and I need to be the one to finish it. I cannot do what I need to if I’m worried about them. And no matter what I’ve told Bea, no matter what I command her, she’ll find a loophole if it means protecting me. She’ll die, and I can’t let that happen. You have your orders. That’s part of the deal. Take it or leave it.”

He stood entirely still, not even breathing. Our escape from the palace filled my mind, of him refusing to leave my side until he thought I was safe, even if I wasn’t. He had become a traitor, but I had to believe my brother, the one who saved as much of our coven as he could on the night of the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, was still in there. And if he was, I knew this order would be as hard for him to obey as it would be for me. But I needed the insurance that my sister and daughter would be okay.

No matter what happened.

Finally, he nodded, his eyes searching mine sadly. With a slight bow of deference, he walked past me and toward the door.

“Hey, Jules,” I said softly.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice heavy as he looked over his shoulder at me. He knew it might be our last encounter, too, and it was etched on his face.

I steadied myself, tears welling in my eyes. “We’ll always have Paris.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up sadly.

“We’ll always have Paris,” he repeated, then turned and walked out the door.

I lay awake in the motel bed for hours, my skin vibrating with the lingering sensation of the magical explosion. The power still raged, a tempest inside of me, and my head pounded with every beat of my heart. I was going through withdrawal, and the urge to sate that need, to pull from the well of life all around me, had never been higher. I gave in a few times throughout the day, blasting furniture into pieces with that same brilliant singularity, hoping no one would be hurt as a result but finding it hard to care when their lives would be over anyway if I failed.

Once I had control of myself again and the pain wasn’t as brutal, I pulled out a new burner and activated it. I stared at the blank screen for several minutes, putting off the next step in what I had to do until I couldn’t wait any longer, the anxiety of standing still at a crescendo.

I started to look for flights to North Carolina.

Home.

There was one I could make if I left within the hour, so I gathered what little I had—less even than I arrived with after the loss of the cloak and ashes—and left a stack of cash on what remained of the dresser to cover the cost of the destroyed room. I tucked the ring, my talisman, which now visually reflected my feelings about the person who gave it to me, into my pocket.

Kill him.

I climbed into the car, ready to make the drive back to Phoenix, and didn’t even manage to start the engine before tears came, hard and fast and consuming.

“I can’t do this without you, Lys,” I sobbed aloud, my entire body wracked with convulsions from the strength of my sorrow. “I can’t do fucking anything…”

I choked and hiccupped, trying to quell the feelings long enough to regain control, when the phone beside me buzzed and lit up. I looked at the screen to see that a number I didn’t recognize was calling. I picked up, frustrated and anxious and enraged that Éiren had managed to get another of my burner numbers off of Sebastian.

“What?” I demanded, pulling out of my parking spot and zooming out onto the road far faster than the speed limit, my anger an infinitely better fuel than my sadness. “You couldn’t wait for me to get there before you dug the knife in deeper? What else could you possibly take from me? I have nothing left to lose, you son of a bitch, and you’d better be ready, because when I get there—”

“Bea.”

I slammed on the brakes, nearly causing the car behind me to slam into the mine. My heart pounded painfully. I struggled through a few deep breaths, then managed to pull the car off to the shoulder so I could get a better grip on the phone with my shaking hands.

“Lys…?” My voice was a hoarse whisper. I could hardly dare to believe she was really awake and well enough to call me. I felt a wave of relief, followed swiftly by the violent resurgence of guilt at having lost Aster, and at the knowledge that I had to tell Lysette what happened.

“Bea,” she said, relief lacing her words. “Where are you? I woke up, and you were nowhere to be found.”

The tears flowed again, and my breath caught in my throat.

“Arizona,” I sobbed. “Lys, I came to try to finish it, to put the pieces together, but it didn’t work. Everything is destroyed—”

“What?” Lysette breathed. “Bea…”

“The cloak and the ashes. And my ring. I tried to forge them into whatever it was supposed to be, but they got obliterated instead. And I…” I wept even harder. “I lost Aster. Julien found us, and he tricked me, and I lost her. I fucking failed you and her.” There was a long pause. One that left me breathless and made every heartbeat pound in my ears.

“I know,” she said. “Bea, I need you to meet me at the White Orchid house.”

“Did… did you hear what I said?” I asked her. “Lysette, Aster is with Éiren. I was heading home anyway, but—”

“Bea, please. Please, listen.” I heard her take a deep, steadying breath. One I knew was a precursor to something I would hate even more than having to tell her I’d let Aster be taken. “Do you remember a year after Aster was born, and we were worried about her getting enough to eat? When I went into town for the last time?”

My mind reeled, unable to process this reaction. I started to worry her head injury hadn’t healed like I hoped, and she was somehow confused.

“Yes…” I hedged, nervously awaiting her point.

She paused once more, clearly not wanting to continue. But she was always the one of us to push forward when no one else could bear it.

“I wasn’t just getting food. I met with a lawyer. I… I had him assign you guardianship of Aster.”

“What?” The word was dull and blunt. “Why?”

“Because I needed a failsafe. I needed to know that if it came to this, I could confidently give my life to end him and know she would be safe.”

My fingers burned with the numbness overtaking my body. I gripped the wheel, and my windpipe tightened as though my father, himself, had a grip on me.

“Absolutely not,” I scoffed. “I’m not letting you do that—”

“When the time comes, you will not stand between me and Éiren,” she choked on his name like it was rotten on her tongue. “Nor will you attempt to kill him, yourself. You may be there, but if the time comes where you have to save Aster or me, you will save her and get out and let me do what needs to be done from there. That’s a command, Beatrice.”

I felt the order echo through my veins like an injection of something cool and sedating, making my extremities numb.

“Lysette,” I sputtered, “please, don’t do that. If either of us fails, the other needs to be able to finish it, or she’ll never be safe, anyway. I already let Aster down. I won’t lose you, too.”

“I won’t fail,” she said with utter assurance, and we both knew she was right. “Éiren would never hurt me, and that is why I, alone, can get close enough to do it. You have been Aster’s legal guardian for the last seven years without knowing. What’s ten more you’re aware of until she’s…?” She choked a sob that she tried to mask but failed.

“You really want someone who would let her get kidnapped to be in charge of her well-being for the rest of her life?”

“You didn’t ‘let her’ get taken. You were tricked, and I know you well enough to know it won’t happen again.”

Her words caught me off-guard. How could she be so calm about this, knowing where Aster was and what could be happening even as we were having this argument?

“Lys—”

“My word is final, Beatrice. I trust you. I trust you with Aster, I trust you with me, and I trust you to do what I need you to so we can finish this.”

I weighed her words carefully. I knew there would be no changing her mind. I could try. I could whine and rail and rage, but that stopped working long before those stopped being my reactions to such things.

“Okay,” I conceded. “Okay. I’m already headed… home. I have a flight to Raleigh this afternoon. I’ll wait for you before I go to the Black Rose mansion.”

Lysette went quiet again, but I could hear her sniffling, trying not to cry outright, which was good, because I was one second away from breaking down again, and there was no time for that. There would be plenty of time later, to deal with whatever outcome happened.

It felt like there was so much more to say, and it would be agony to wait for the chance to say it. But some things were better face to face.

“Home, then. Our home,” she confirmed. “See you there.”

***

I pulled the rental car up to the path I would know anywhere, even if it had become so overgrown since the last time we were here that it had vanished into the foliage entirely. There was no way I could drive through, so, instead, I drove down to the public beach parking a couple miles away. I stepped out into the frigid salt air before walking to the private section of shoreline that was once ours.

The scent of this place, of the home I’d chosen centuries earlier, filled my head and my chest with a feeling of nostalgia and melancholy as I thought about the beautiful days we’d spent playing in the surf or sunbathing in the sand. Those days were long gone, the bonds between the people broken and several members of that family now dead by the hands of the others.

I walked along the sandy beach, where a freezing, misty rain mixed with the spray of the ocean on my face, and I pulled my coat up around my cheeks. I had at least eight more hours before Lysette got here, and the time alone to gather myself was welcome.

I sat there for at least four of those hours, just staring at the ocean, playing out every possibility in my mind, wondering if there was even a chance of success, or if I was simply waving at windmills. If my sisters and I would make it out of this, or if no one would.

When I finally reached the property, which I suppose still belonged to Lysette, even if the house was no longer standing, all I could see was that morning. The dawn blazing red with the fire Julien and Siobhan had set. The stretchers carrying the bodies of my sisters. The firemen trying to save them, dead at the hands of over a dozen Black Roses. The Black Roses, killed by Lysette’s poison, writhing on the ground.

She didn’t know that I watched from the treeline. That I saw her like I never had before. I’d seen the demon within her, the one the dark magic tried to make her, but when she struck down the ones who’d taken our family, she was like a goddess of death. It was deadly, beautiful, and terrifying.

And right there… Right next to the massive pile of blackened rubble covered in sand, vines, and weeds… That was where I’d burned myself to get rid of the dark magic that still vexed me and tried to control me. I could still feel the searing pain as my skin bubbled under the touch of a red-hot iron knife. Hear Lysette’s panicked voice as she tried to save my magic, which somehow managed to hold on anyway, right along with the darkness.

I was such a fucking idiot to think it would work, but it was hard to be angry about it now, when I could use the weapon Éiren had given me to keep Aster and Lysette safe.

Once I pulled myself free of the onslaught of memories and shook off the trauma, knowing I’d need to see past it to win the oncoming battle, I took off my shoes, the cold sand stinging my skin. It was pinpricks on my feet, but I let the pain keep me centered. It would be easy to spiral out now, to let myself fall back into old, bad habits of running and deflecting until the things I tried not to feel overtook me, or worse—to go in half-cocked, playing the hero, only to set everyone else up for failure. I wanted to feel, but I needed to keep my objective in mind.

My magic, fully entwined with the dark magic I had so little control over, was once enough to keep me warm, even on the coldest days. I could let that fire burn inside and swim in the ocean in the middle of a blizzard and never once worry about hypothermia.

I wondered if it would work now, if I could use the parts that were mine without letting the others steal from anyone who might be nearby.

With a glance up and down the beach to make sure no one was watching, I slowly began to remove layers, feeling the sharp, almost frozen air burning my skin like heat rather than cold with each step, focusing the power inside of me, willing it into submission. Finally, I stood in only my bra and panties and took a step into the surf.

I gasped and pulled back, the momentary shock of the cold water breaking through my concentration. My toes were already white from my circulation pulling away from my extremities, but once I had it back under control and could warm myself, I was able to make my way ankle deep. Then to my knees. Then—

“If I’d known you were suicidal,” a disgustingly familiar voice said from behind me, “I wouldn’t have put so much effort into trying to kill you.”

I spun toward Siobhan’s voice, pulling as hard as I could from the conduit of dark magic, trying to form the singularity to shoot it at her, where she sat on the low stone wall built to keep high tide from flooding the property.

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said calmly, but I wasn’t going to let another second go by where she or anyone else could hurt my sisters.

I released the power at her, and I swear, I saw her roll her eyes before she disappeared, reappearing much closer to me, the magic crashing into the ruins behind her with an explosion that sent little bits of rock and earth flying into the air. Despite her previous bored demeanor, Siobhan actually turned to watch with a surprised expression before looking at me again.

“That’s new.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I told her, pulling once again, focusing on using only her own magic to create the thing which would end her.

She was far more practiced in dark magic than I, however, and she easily deflected my attempt.

“Do you want to do that, or do you want to stop Éiren Connolly? Because I doubt you can do both.”

The words were so strange I didn’t quite understand what she was saying. “What does that mean?”

She crossed her arms and sighed. “Why don’t you get out of the freezing ocean, and we can talk. And if you get any ideas…” She bent down to the pile of my clothes, rifling through and pulling out my knives. Before I could stop her, she held them up, then poofed away. I only had a few seconds to panic before she returned empty-handed. “No knives. They’re hidden. I’ll tell you where they are when we’re—”

Before she could even finish speaking, I tried something. The thing I’d only done once before. I wanted to throw her off. I knew better than to trust this wasn’t a trap. For all I knew, Éiren, Julien, and who knew how many other enemies of mine were hiding, just out of sight. But maybe Siobhan was valuable enough to them to protect.

A subtle rush filled me, like being on a high-speed train, something I didn’t notice the first time, in my panic back at the temple. But this time, I felt the strange sensations that came with teleporting myself right behind Siobhan.

She took a startled step backward when she saw me disappear and stumbled into me where I’d jumped, allowing me to grab her by the throat and hold her, preventing her from moving. I knew who I was emulating, but desperate times…

“How did you do that?” she gasped.

“Doesn’t matter. You have exactly five seconds to tell me what you mean by stopping Éiren before I snap your neck.”

I expected her to fight, to teleport out of my grip. I had no idea if she could without bringing me along, too, but regardless, she did neither. Instead, she slowly raised her hands.

“I need help. And I don’t know anyone else who can do it. Just you and your sister.”

“And why the fuck would I help you, when you kidnapped Aster and handed her over to him?”

“Because she and Róisín both need help.”

“Who’s Róisín?”

She paused, taking a shuddering breath. “My daughter.”

The shock of her words was enough that I released her, and she stumbled away, rubbing the place on her throat where I’d grabbed her.

“Your daughter. She’s alive?” I was surprised, having been operating under the assumption she’d been fodder for Éiren’s quest for power.

“For now,” Siobhan said, slowly hugging herself and avoiding my eyes.

“He didn’t use her for the ritual?”

“Sort of.” She shrugged, looking out into the woods as if she was watching it happen all over again. “He got it into his mind he could draw blood from her slowly over time. Took him five years to get enough. But it still didn’t work quite right, and since then, he’s become a man possessed. He’s been trying to find you lot the whole time, but since Róisín didn’t work, he’s been…” She shuddered. “I think he always was, and I was just too blind to see it. But now that he has Aster, he’s sure Lysette will follow. He thinks the two of them are the key to unlocking it. I don’t really understand, because he tells me as little as possible, but with Aster there, he’s decided Róisín and I are disposable. He’s letting us stay, but he said he’d kill us if I step out of line ever again. And with his temper, I don’t know that I’ll have to. He could do it at any point, and I’d be helpless to save her.”

I pulled my clothes back on as she spoke, and once she was finished, I took a step closer, narrowing my eyes as I studied her, trying to determine if she was telling the truth. I had absolutely no reason to trust Siobhan. She’d proven to be as evil and ambitious as Éiren. What reason would I have to trust her?

“Sounds like you made your bed and need to lie in it,” I said coldly. I turned to walk away, but her hand grabbed my shoulder, and I turned, sending a small blast of power at her, knocking her onto her ass, where she promptly buried her head in her hands and began… to cry.

“Please,” she begged through her fingers. “Please. I followed him for so long, was willing to believe everything he said, even when I knew he was lying. I thought he was a vigilante for justice, for women like me who’d been hurt. He saved me when I had no one else, and I was so young and desperate to feel safe, but when he cut you… I saw through him and knew I was wrong. Any man who would hurt his own daughter, no matter who she is… that isn’t the man I chose.” Something about the way she said the last part, like the words were bitter and poisonous on her tongue, made me wonder what her own father had done to her. What horrible thing could have turned someone into… this.

But I still wasn’t convinced.

“And yet you stayed for nine more fucking years? Gave him a child he could use, just like he uses everyone?”

She gazed up at me, and for just a moment, I saw that eighteen-year-old girl—still a child in so many ways—I met at a party in Miami, but in a whole new light. Something in her had already been broken, and she clearly thought Éiren would be the one to help her put back the pieces. But all he did was put duct tape on the cracks so he could rip them off again at his own pleasure.

“He’s smart,” Siobhan said with a bit of a whimper, shame radiating from her whole body. “He knows what to say and how to say it. He knows how to make you believe you matter, that he cares. Even when he proves you wrong about him, he knows how to make you think it wasn’t that bad.”

Fuck. He’d done to her exactly what he’d done to Lysette. Given her a sense of security, of love, only to use it against her when it suited him or when he wanted to manipulate her.

I shivered at what was happening in my mind. I couldn’t possibly be feeling sorry for Siobhan, the woman who’d helped convince Julien to turn traitor, who’d helped kill most of my coven, who’d tried to kill me on more than one occasion.

Could I?

“You’re a mother, too,” she said, moving to her knees in a show of surrender. “Not because you bore her, but the way Aster talks, you’re her mother as much as Lysette is. You’d do anything to save her. Which is why I’m here. I’m giving myself to you to kill, if you want, but I’m begging you, if you do, please at least save my daughter from him. If he knew I was here, he wouldn’t hesitate. I can help you take him down, once and for all, but I know you have no reason to believe me. I’m at your disposal and your mercy, Beatrice.”

I stared at her for a long time, weighing my options. She was more right than she knew, considering I was Aster’s legal guardian. I knew what it was like to love a child so much that you’d do anything to save them. And I knew, if I chose to trust what she was saying and help her, it could lead to the end for me and Lysette. But if I didn’t, I could be responsible for the death of another child.

Another of my sisters, I realized with a dull shock. It hadn’t fully occurred to me before. As Éiren’s daughter, Siobhan’s daughter was my sister, too.

And no matter what or who led to her being here, I wasn’t going to let him destroy one more piece of the broken family I would forever be tied to.

“Get up.”

Siobhan nodded and climbed stiffly to her feet, shaking before me from the cold and whatever emotions and thoughts were running through her mind. She remained silent, and for the first time, I truly looked at her, trying to see past what I’d always assumed was a shallow exterior. She was taller than Lysette, but not as tall as me. She’d always had perfectly silky platinum hair, but the mists had taken it from a shining sheet to a frizzy mess with dark brown roots showing. Her lips quivered, absent of any kind of lipstick or gloss, dry and pale in the frigid air. And her eyes, which I always thought were as black as her soul, were actually a dark chocolate sort of color, and at that moment, there was nothing in them except hope and fear.

“Go home,” I said, making up my mind. We needed all the allies we could get, no matter how unlikely. It may still be a trap, but options were limited, and I wasn’t willing to find another soul to put in harm’s way, which meant taking one who’d been there all along was my best bet. “Spend time with your daughter. Be perfect for him so he doesn’t suspect. It will probably be tonight. I can’t imagine Lysette wants to wait a minute longer than she has to for us to get Aster back and to put an end to this.”

Siobhan took a breath, then let it out for several long seconds, giving me the smallest smile of gratitude that could still technically be called a smile. “Agreed. And I’m glad she got out before Julien got there. Éiren sent him to bring her back, but she’d already left the hospital.”

“About that. How did you know where to find us?” I asked.

“He tracked the phone numbers you left Sebastian. They were on a list in his kitchen.”

At the sound of his name, renewed fury coursed through me as I remembered the image of Siobhan servicing Julien while Sebastian lay dead by his hand, right next to them. “After Julien killed him.” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the rest. “I saw the picture.”

“No…” Siobhan said slowly, an unfamiliar expression crossing her face that I was startled to realize was guilt. For being the other woman or for what they did to a kind, gentle person, I wasn’t sure. “Éiren made him do that—cut off his…” I tried not to gag as I remembered the photo. “He said it was revenge for fucking their women. But… we don't know for sure if he’s dead. He passed out while it was happening, but was likely alive when we left.”

A wave of relief came over me at hearing Sebastian may yet be alive, and I very nearly hugged Siobhan before remembering who she was. She wasn’t a friend. The enemy of my enemy, certainly, if what she was saying was true, but that didn’t change everything she’d done and the nearly half a century of unadulterated loathing between us.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said, fighting back tears of joy that Sebatian may have survived and ones of fury at Julien for continuing to submit to Éiren’s twisted sense of entitlement and justice. I would make a point to find him so I would know for sure once we made it out the other side—if we made it out. “Tonight, then. Be ready. Make sure the girls—both of them—are safe. I don’t want either of them there and watching.”

“I can do that.” She looked like she might want to shake my hand but thought better of it. “Your knives are in your car up the road. Figured you’d want them, even if this went sideways. Tonight.” Then, with a single nod in my direction, she was gone.

I stared at the empty space where she’d been, the comforting ocean waves, which were all I could see, no longer even registering with me. Of all the surprises on this terrifying journey, Siobhan turning on Éiren wasn’t even close to an option on my bingo card.

It should have been, though. With his obsession with Lysette, and with him thinking he was so close to having her back in his grip, it only made sense that Siobhan would discover her expendability. He was too arrogant to ever think the people he kept close would betray him, and it just might be his downfall.

I would know—I’d done the same thing to myself with Julien.

I breathed deeply, trying to process all of this new information. Lysette would be here soon, and we could make a plan. I could tell her about Siobhan and…

No.

That would be a mistake. If Siobhan was lying, if this was a trick, I needed Lysette to not hesitate. I needed her to strike as if nothing had changed, to not go in with hope of salvation, in case I was wrong about it existing.

Because I would need to hold back, just in case she could be useful. I was being muzzled, both by my own choice to trust Siobhan, and besides her, I’d been forbidden to take the final blow on Éiren.

And then there was the final one. The one I possibly feared facing even more than the others.

Because even with the confirmation that it was Julien who hurt Sebastian, even with the knowledge that he betrayed me again when he took Aster…

I still wasn’t sure I’d be able to take him out, either.

Walking up that familiar path hurt, and not just emotionally. Physically, my barely healed joints were screaming. How had I never noticed the terrain was this difficult, all those years I drove up it? The loose gravel which had always been here was made even more treacherous by the overgrowth of weeds and other plants untended and unhindered by the constant stream of cars in and out.

When I finally broke the treeline, I froze. I knew what to expect, and yet, somehow, it still took my breath away with shock. Before me would have once been a house which stood tall and glorious, splendor in every inch and filled with so much love. Now, all that remained was a pile of stone and charcoal, a ghost of itself, even where tiny bits remained beneath the plant life and sand from storms that had raged over the property which had reclaimed it.

I moved up the path, climbing over the pieces of what was once the steps of the wraparound porch, until I reached where the front door once stood and extended my arm instinctively to open it. Of course, there was no doorknob. There wasn’t even a fucking door.

My kneecaps hit the rubble with a sharp crack as the feelings overwhelmed me, turning me into a sobbing mess. I once truly believed this would be home forever. Now, I knew it never would be again.

“Lysette?” Bea’s frantic voice pulled my attention away for just a moment. I looked up and saw her running toward me, leaping over the wreckage of our lives. The second she reached my side, she sank to her knees beside me, holding me and whispering, her own emotions too strong for her to be any louder. “Fuck. You’re alive. You’re okay. God, Lys… Part of me worried it wasn’t really you, that you were…”

“It’s really gone.” My voice was hollow as I looked around, not really seeing anything for the way my mind kept trying to recreate what was once here. There were the ruins of the grand staircase. There was the sunroom, where Bea and I had so many conversations and heart to hearts. There was the kitchen, where we would all bustle around each other at holidays, working together to make a feast fit for an army, even with ten or less of us at a time. And there… there was the door to Ysabel’s suite.

Hecate’s suite.

“Yeah,” Bea said, her hands a comfort as she cradled my head against her. “It is. And we’re going to make the sons of bitches pay for what they did. For this, for Aster, for all of it.”

I couldn’t even nod to agree with her, my sorrow was so great. I felt the urge to tell her Julien had defected back to us, despite his request, wanting her to know there was some hope. But as I sat in the wreckage of the life I’d loved, the stark evidence of his choices was greater than I could bear at that moment.

I spent nine years refusing to mourn what had been lost, so focused on running, then hiding and protecting Aster. But here, in direct contact with the destruction I’d allowed Éiren to inflict on me and the rest of my family, it was impossible to avoid.

She held me for hours, until the sun began to sink behind the trees and I ran out of tears, my weary body no longer wracked with sobs.

“We need to go,” I finally said, my voice hoarse from the cold and from crying. “We need to get Aster. We need to…”

“Yeah. So, then, what’s the plan, coven master?” Bea asked, the intended playful tone not reaching beyond her own dread and fatigue.

“I don’t know,” I said, getting to my feet and brushing mud and sand from my pants, looking off into the distance, north, toward our destination. “Going in, guns blazing, seems a surefire way to possibly get ourselves and Aster killed.”

“We could sneak in and try to get her out without him knowing,” she said with a shrug. “But he’d probably see it coming. Even without the extensive surveillance he likely has around the place—” she gave me a darkly meaningful look, one that called to mind how he’d spied on me—“he’ll probably feel us coming. You, especially. Besides… I’m tired of running. I’m tired of hiding. I want to make sure Aster’s safe, not just tonight, but forever, and you know he’ll never stop coming if we don’t make him stop.”

“You’re right. We need a direct approach that catches him off-guard but doesn’t make him feel threatened.”

And a way to get Jules and Róisín out, too.

We sat in silence for a while, both of us thinking. Nothing came to me, even as the moon, now full, began to rise over the water. Until—

“Fuck.”

I looked at Bea, and she gazed back at me with a look of resignation and worry.

“I have a really… really… bad idea.”

***

I pulled my rental car into the long paved drive of the stark, modern mansion. The last time I was here, I killed half a dozen people with a single word and watched the man I loved kneeling in Bea’s blood after slitting her throat. The memory played in my mind on repeat, amping up my anxiety about what I was about to do.

A glance in the mirror showed me the face I’d worn for the last half-millennium. My hair was back to its natural espresso color, and my features were put back to the way they were before. I needed him to recognize me, and while I had no doubt he would know me no matter what I looked like, I wanted to cover every single base when it came to appeasing him.

I picked up the phone from the seat beside me and sent two texts. The first was to Bea.

Lysette: I’m at the house. I’ll let you know when it’s time.

The second went to my brother.

Lysette: I’m here. Let’s finish this. Follow my lead.

My hands shook as I killed the engine and climbed out of the car, making my way up the walk and to the front door.

“What are you doing at my door, Rosie?”

His words echoed in my mind as if he was saying them again, right now. I knew how close I was to him, to hearing his voice again, and a small, desperate part of me was aching for it. For my name on his lips to be more than just an echo in my dreams.

With a deep breath to steady myself, to prepare for the single greatest performance I’d ever have to give, I rang the bell.

I waited for more than a minute, wondering if perhaps they weren’t even home for some reason, before the porch light flickered to life only a second before the door opened.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, and I stood, my eyes transfixed on the space where I knew his face would be. The urge to wrench the door from his grip and push it open, to throw myself into his arms and beg him to stop all this, was overwhelming.

There would be time for that. It may yet be possible. Maybe even necessary—or at least, that’s what I told myself.

But it wasn’t him. The face which greeted me was one I had unsuccessfully tried to block from my memory a hundred thousand times.

Siobhan looked back at me, her hand falling from the door handle in surprise. We stared at each other for so long I almost thought, perhaps, Jules had frozen time for her. Finally, her face shifted from the look of shock to a sneer.

“I didn’t think we were expecting company,” she said coldly.

I wanted to strike her dead, here and now, for every ounce of pain she’d caused me and Bea and anyone else I ever loved. But if I did, there would be no chance of following through with Bea’s plan, and she could still be a mile away. She’d parked out on the main highway and was going to walk. She might still trip the surveillance, but a single person creeping through the dark was more likely to go unnoticed than a car barrelling down the driveway, and we had to hope me being here would keep him distracted.

“I think we both know that’s not true,” I said with the most innocent smile I could manage while facing the most evil woman I’d ever known. “I’m here for my husband.”

She blinked twice, hard, but with a deep sigh, she turned, beckoning me to follow her. “He’s in the dining room. We were about to have dinner.”

I stepped inside and had to fight a shudder. I hated it here. Everything about it. The sharp, cold features, the slate and marble floors, nothing like the warmth of hardwood, softened by feet passing over it for hundreds of years.

Siobhan led me through three large rooms, each decorated in the same way, the way I knew Éiren hated, despite having crafted this space himself. I knew him well enough to know what his taste was, and everything, down to the red lighting, was indicative of how this house was made to be his own personal hell, a punishment for himself of some kind, regardless of his denial that he’d done anything wrong.

We made it to the dining room, and the second we did, I froze, head to toe.

He was right. Fucking. There.

Sitting directly across from me, Aster on one side of him and a child who I could only assume was Róisín on the other. He leaned toward our daughter as he said something quietly to her, a look of pure adoration on his face, one I’d only ever seen him give me before.

It nearly warmed my heart, seeing Aster and her father, the man I loved, enjoying each other’s company, smiling together. But I knew just how quickly his happiness could shift into something dangerous, and I fought the urge to run to her, to pull her into my arms and drag her away from here. No matter what love he had for her, I knew better than anyone how much his love could hurt.

“Someone to see you,” Siobhan said, spitting the words as she got Éiren’s attention.

He looked up in annoyance at having been interrupted, but the second his eyes met mine, the expression melted into one of wonder. He rose slowly from his chair, but I was saved the trouble of figuring out what to say first by Aster’s shriek of joy.

“Momma!” She bolted from her seat and ran to me, jumping into my arms. I squeezed her tightly, and her arms locked on me along with her magic, keeping us bound together. “Papa said you were coming, but I didn’t know you were awake. I was so scared, Momma! I thought…”

She buried her face in my shoulder and began to cry, her little body shaking against mine.

“I’m here now, baby,” I cooed at her. “It’s going to be okay.” I wanted to warn her, to tell her to run if she needed to, but I didn’t want her to be scared and tip off Éiren to our plan. Instead, I pulled back and kissed her cheeks, then looked over her shoulder to where Éiren was standing, still as the grave.

“Hello, Lysette,” he said in a way that was so soft, so reverent, so loving, I almost forgot my true reason for being here. All I ever wanted from him was to just be able to love him and have him love me back, without the taint of dark magic and his misguided quest to “save the world” from itself.

“Éiren…” I said, breathless despite myself. I knew why I was here, what I would likely have to do before the night was over. And looking him in the eyes before I did it, giving him false hope things could be okay ever again, was an unparalleled pain, doubled only by the pain of seeing him looking so unkempt, so tired.

His hair was a mess, rather than smooth in its usual coif, and he had bags under his eyes that could be considered overweight luggage. He’d always been slender, but he was strong, too. Now, he seemed to be wearing his skin like an oversized suit.

He moved slowly to our sides, tucking his hands into his pockets as he walked, the slow click of his oxfords on the floor like a heartbeat—not mine, of course, because my own heart was pounding faster than it ever had. Prying myself free of the magic she still couldn’t control, I set Aster down with one more kiss. I wasn’t sure how this was about to go, and if things went south fast, I wanted her to feel my love as much as possible before it did.

He stared down at me, ducking his head slightly the way he always did. The look on his face was one of such quiet wonder that part of me dared to hope he’d reconsidered. That whatever he’d done, whatever he planned to do, it would all be put aside in favor of the life together we should have had.

“Hello, Rosie,” he breathed, the hint of a smile playing on his lips when I didn’t run.

It almost worked. I almost believed it—believed him and this apparent departure from his ambition and cruelty. But we’d been here before. With him seeming repentant, changed. He made promise after promise, and each one had been a lie, broken as soon as temptation presented itself. And for all I wanted to believe this time was different, that he could be the version of himself I’d fallen in love with…

I didn’t know if it would ever be enough.

She was here.

Lysette was here. My Rosie. My wife. My soulmate.

Alive. Whole.

Julien said she’d already left the hospital by the time he got there, and I’d assumed she would come eventually, wanting to find Aster. But somehow, seeing her, standing here of her own free will right next to the child we created, filled me with such a sense of gratitude that I was ready to make up my mind. I could put aside everything else to just have this. To have them.

To have her.

I’d felt this way before. Back in Japan, when we said our vows for the second time, I was ready to give up the quest for the ring. I’d told her as much, and I meant every single word. I was prepared to recommit myself to her, to the White Orchid, and to give up on my fool’s errand, at least for now. There would be lifetimes upon lifetimes to discuss and plan and fix the world, if she would only join me when she was ready, and I would have given her all the time she needed.

But then Beatrice had to go and actually find the damn thing. I could have still left it at that, but I could never trust she wouldn’t find a way to use it against me, her own vendetta always stronger than her loyalty to anyone, even her sister. And when Lysette found the evidence of me watching her and left, something I’d already planned to explain in time, my hand was forced.

The power is yours. Take it. Now.

“Will you join us for dinner?” I asked Lysette, feeling like a schoolboy afraid his crush would reject him.

She hesitated, looking at the table. “I don’t think there are enough place settings for all of us. I can wait—”

“Nonsense,” I said, moving even closer and wrapping a tentative hand around her waist. “That space is for you.”

She tensed, and I nearly let go, but just as quickly, she melted against me, burying her face in my chest. Over her shoulder, I saw Siobhan staring at the floor, her eyes swimming with tears as I offered her plate to Lysette. She understood the deal we made. If it came down to her or my wife, it would be Lysette every time.

“Éiren…” Lysette said again, her voice muffled by my shirt. Finally, she looked up at me, and I couldn’t wait another second. I bent my head to her, claiming her lips in a kiss, one filled with the desire I’d felt to have her, right here, like this, every single day since she left.

She responded by wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in even tighter. I tasted her tears, spilling over my own cheeks, and I reached up, wiping them away with my thumbs without releasing her lips.

“Ew, Momma…” Aster said from beside us, and we broke apart, Lysette laughing wetly as she cleared her throat.

“Sorry, my darling,” I said to my daughter, kneeling down before her. “It’s been a very, very long time since I saw your Momma, and I’m just glad she’s doing better. We all are, aren’t we?” I made eye contact with Julien, who was avoiding looking at us, the coward. Perhaps he’d hoped Bea would be here as well, or perhaps he was grateful she wasn’t. I relished the thought of their reunion, of his shame and her fury meeting in a beautiful clash. Perhaps they’d even take each other out, leaving me, my wife, and my daughters in peace.

Siobhan would still be around, but good help was hard to find, so she may yet be useful.

What are you waiting for, my love? Hecate’s voice in my mind had grown impatient, and the little of her power I still retained boiled in my veins along with her irritation. This is what we’ve been waiting for. My vessel, the one with whom I will bring the world to its knees, with you at my side.

No, I said back to her. Not yet. I knew she could read my thoughts as easily as she could share her own with me, which meant she would know I had been reconsidering the entire thing for days, likely longer, even if I hadn’t acknowledged it. If Lysette left now—because I proved her sister right about me—I would become even more of a shell of myself than I’d already been for the last forty years, and I didn’t think I’d survive it again.

“I’ve missed you,” I said, extending my hand to Lysette. “Come sit.”

When her fingers wrapped around mine, it was like coming to life, like the first time she ever smiled at me. The first time we kissed. Made love. When she agreed to marry me, not once, but twice.

This could be enough. She could be enough. Her and Aster. Our family.

Very well. You’ve made your choice. Now… I’ve made mine.

“Will you be weak for me, Lysette?”

Those words were a broken record in my mind as I followed Éiren to the seat beside him, Aster moving over to make room. For all the strength Bea claimed to see in me, that my acolytes over the years and even my father saw in me, I truly was weak for Éiren Connolly. For the beautiful smile he wore when looking only at me. For the way his scent lingered on me after only a few seconds of contact. For the way he gripped my hand like there was nothing but me to tether him to this life.

“Momma?” Aster said quietly, tugging on my arm. “Where’s Bea?”

“Yes, I was wondering the same thing,” Éiren said, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his intentions unreadable in his eyes. “Will she be joining us?”

“I’m… not sure,” I said, taking a bite of chicken, the meal meant for Siobhan, which Éiren had insisted I partake of, instead. “I haven’t heard from her in a few days.”

“Luckily for you and Aster,” he said, “I happen to know she’s nearby.”

My pulse fluttered. He knew. It had been long enough for her to make the walk. He didn’t have his phone on him to check his surveillance, but somehow, he knew she was right outside.

Or not.

“I… I’ve been tracking your phones,” he admitted, not meeting my eyes, and the honesty floored me. “She’s back in the area. You could call her after dinner and extend an invite. I’m certain you and Aster aren’t the only ones who’d like to see her. Jules… surely, you’d like to see your wife?”

Julien’s eyes met mine for the smallest fraction of a second as I remembered his fear of Éiren and how he’d begged me to let him speak to Bea in his own time. Keeping up the act, however, his gaze slid smoothly over to Éiren, and he leaned back in his chair. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“Bea is your wife?” Aster asked, her mouth hanging open. “Bea said boys are gross. And she never told me.” A shadow passed over her face, and she looked at me, hurt in her eyes. “Neither of you ever told me you were married.”

“It’s… complicated, baby.” I put a hand on hers, giving it a squeeze. “I promise, I’ll tell you everything. Right now, let’s have a nice dinner with… with Papa.”

She glanced at him, her intuitive nature shining through as she studied him with the same expression I’d seen on his face so many times. She was too smart. She knew something wasn’t right here, but she was playing along. I never wanted this for her, but I wanted her to make it out safely even more.

“Will any of your other acolytes be joining us?” I asked, trying to gauge how many people might end up involved in the fight, if it came to that.

Éiren first weighed my question, then shook his head. “My acolytes don’t live in the house anymore.”

“Why not?” I asked, unsure if he was lying or if something happened to make him shut them out.

“For one, we have fewer than we used to. Never sure who can be trusted, and I didn’t want them sharing a house with my children.” He paused as if he, himself, didn’t fit the bill of someone who couldn’t be trusted.

Suddenly, a sharp clatter echoed in the room, startling everyone. Éiren dropped his fork and knife and was gripping his hair so hard it looked like he might pull it out, like he was in pain. His eyes were clenched shut, and he wasn’t even breathing.

“Éiren?” I rose from my seat, moving to his side with instinctual worry for this man, whom I’d spent lifetimes caring for when his mind became overwhelmed with the things he couldn’t let go of, the thoughts that could keep him imprisoned in his own mental hell. I looked around for any of the triggers I was used to seeing when this happened, to remove them so I could help him, but found nothing.

“I said… no…” he whispered suddenly, as though to himself.

I reached for him, wanting to comfort him, to help him through whatever demons he battled in his mind. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” he said weakly. “Headache.”

I wasn’t so stupid as to believe that, but currently, he wasn’t harming anyone, so I chose to let it slide. “If you’re sure…”

I placed my fingers on his forehead in a gentle touch, then let them slide into his hair, slowly smoothing it back as I used to, restraining myself from going as far as kissing his forehead like I once would have.

“Thank you,” he said, weariness lacing every word as he pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm before releasing me. “All better.” He looked up at me with pleading eyes, and I had to look away to avoid falling into them, into him.

“Okay…”

There was a brief silence, filled with a million unspoken words and feelings, before he shook his head, clearing away whatever had affected him.

“Siobhan?” he called out. “Why don’t you put the girls to bed? Perhaps it’s time for the grownups to have a talk together.”

She rushed forward, nodding, and I gripped the table hard as I watched her touch Aster’s arm. I wanted to stop her. Years of battle with the blonde witch, particularly the time she put Bea in the hospital, made me as likely to trust her with my child as I would with Cerberus. But my options were limited, and I needed to see if this truly was a seek and destroy mission, or perhaps…

I hardly dared to let myself think it.

“And, Siobhan? Keep an eye on the security. I want to know when my eldest arrives. I have no doubt she’ll be wanting to make an entrance, and I don’t love the idea of replacing the door again because of her temper.”

I watched them go, taking in the rosy cheeks and shining hair of my daughter, the being who had both saved me and forced me back into the belly of the beast.

“She really is perfect,” Éiren said, standing and moving close behind me. His words were whispered against my hair, and despite the overwhelming urge to pull away, I leaned into him.

“It seems that, despite both her parents’ flaws, she somehow ended up fairly well-adjusted,” I said wryly.

“I only see one parent with fatal flaws.”

His use of the word fatal sent a flutter of guilt through me. Right now, he was perfect. The version of himself I always hoped would come back for good, but I had no idea if I could trust it. All evidence, all history would say no.

So, when he turned me around in his arms and lowered his lips to mine, I told myself I was playing the ruse. That I wasn’t kissing him back because of this longing that never went away. That the butterflies in my stomach were because I was scared of him, not because I felt like I was home for the first time in so long.

I was a liar.

There was a kind of desperation in the way he kissed me, the way his hands gripped me feeling like a plea. The way his lips moved on mine like he was seeking absolution. The way he sighed into my mouth as if giving me not only his breath, but every bit of him.

And gods, how I wanted to believe it.

I still didn’t—not entirely. But if these were our last moments together before I had to complete my task, I would soak up every single second of this—of him, as he could have been without his dark ambition.

From behind me, Julien cleared his throat so as to remind us he was still present.

Éiren broke the kiss with a chuckle and looked over at him, rolling his shoulders back. “Jules, would you care to join us for a drink? I have a bottle of Chateau Lafite I’ve been saving for this very occasion.”

Julien nodded and stood from the table as Éiren took me by the hand, and the three of us made our way to the living room. Images of Bea, bleeding out on the floor right there, by the bar, flooded my mind, reminding me of my true purpose for being here.

The one I was now hopelessly, devastatingly, achingly desperate to avoid.

I paced outside the mansion for close to an hour. Lysette thought I would be walking, but I saw the surveillance cameras from far enough away to not be seen by them. And after Lysette put my face and hair, though not my eyes, back to normal, I knew I’d be recognized in a second, which was part of the point. Instead, I focused on the new power inside of me and “jumped,” putting myself right up against the back wall of the mansion.

I kept trying to see inside, but the cameras were fucking everywhere, and I couldn’t get close enough to a window to do it. I was flying blind, and it killed me to not know what was going on, to not know if I was already too late. I was seconds away from teleporting myself inside, from risking it all and trying to find my way to Aster without running into any Black Roses, when I heard footsteps.

I spun and saw Siobhan, but she wasn’t alone. She held the hand of a little girl with strawberry blond hair, and on her other side…

“Bea!” Aster whimpered as she pulled away from Siobhan and ran to crash into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist.

I dropped to my knees, hugging her just as tightly before pulling away quickly to look her over. “Are you okay, Peachy? Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said, beaming at me. “And guess what? Momma’s awake! She’s here. She’s not hurt anymore!”

“I know,” I said, brushing my hands through her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”

Siobhan cleared her throat, clearly wanting to move along. “I assume you have some kind of plan? I was a little worried when she came in like a World War Two wife seeing her soldier husband newly home from the front lines.”

I nodded. “Yeah. False sense of security, that whole thing.” If Lysette was awake and alright, I had to trust she’d text me when it was time. “What’s your plan? Why did you bring them out here?”

“He told me to put them to bed,” Siobhan said. “Figured it would be even safer if they were out of the house.”

“Out here, in the open, is safer than in their bedrooms?” I asked, wondering how someone who managed to outmaneuver me so many times could be this stupid.

“Hardly,” she said scathingly. “He has me on surveillance duty, but he could take back over at any point. You’re lucky, too. I saw you.” She held up her phone, where she showed me a video of me sneaking around on a camera I hadn’t noticed. “Anyway. I… know a place. Somewhere he can’t get to. I wouldn’t have even considered it until earlier, when I saw what you could do.”

“What do you mean?” I asked slowly, holding tighter to Aster.

“Either you trust me, or you don’t,” Siobhan spat back. “But I would never put Róisín in harm’s way any more than you would do it to Aster. So, are you coming? I don’t have long before he realizes I’ve taken too long and starts looking for me.”

I looked at Aster. “Has she done anything to you? At all. Anything?”

Aster shook her head. “No. And Róisín has been really nice. She’s our sister, too.”

“I have another sister?” Róisín said, her excitement endearing me to her immediately, despite my urge to keep her at arms’ length for how much she looked like Siobhan.

“Yeah,” I said, standing up. “Me. And I’m here to help make sure you guys are safe.” I turned my attention back to Siobhan. “Where are we going?”

“Everyone hold hands,” she said, taking Róisín’s and looking at Aster and me.

Fighting the way my skin crawled at the thought of touching her, knowing who she was and everything she’d done, I took her hand. It was surprisingly delicate, even down to the gentle way she gripped mine, like she was afraid to hold on to anything too tightly and have it ripped away.

Part of me wondered what might have happened if Lysette had found her instead of Éiren. If she’d been given true refuge from whatever had happened to her and a way to heal instead of being filled with vengeance and dark magic. If she’d been shown love instead of whatever the fuck Éiren had subjected her to. I knew better than anyone how healing Lysette’s guidance could be, even when my own rage and agendas put a wedge between us.

Maybe there was still a chance for Siobhan to have that, too.

Aster clung to me, and as soon as we were all connected, I felt the rush of teleportation I still hadn’t grown fully accustomed to. When it ended, I was standing in a large room without windows or doors, made entirely of concrete and steel beams. It was lit by electric lights strung up along the ceiling, like some kind of mine, but instead of an earthy smell, I was assaulted by the cloying essence of large amounts of antiseptic.

“What is this place?” I asked as I approached what looked like an altar of some kind, made out of the same concrete as the rest of it.

“This was where he did monthly… rituals,” Siobhan said, crossing her arms uncomfortably.

It took a few seconds before I understood what she was saying. This was where Éiren made his sacrifices to Hecate each month to grow his power.

I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away from the girls. “Are you saying you brought us into a murder pit?” I hissed.

“Where else would you suggest?” she snapped back. “He could only get in or out with me helping, which means they’ll be safe here. I’ve spent the last month and a half cleaning it out, ever since the last time. In case… In case we needed somewhere to hide. I don’t know how he didn’t notice me coming home smelling like death every few days—probably because he barely notices me at all anymore. Never thought I’d be grateful for that. The amount of bodies…”

I fought back a gag as I thought about what it must have been like for her, dragging rotted corpse after rotted corpse from here, people who’d gone missing and whose families would never know the horrible end they met.

Just like the kid in the woods.

“Okay,” I said, sighing. This did seem to be the best option, but there was only one thing that would make it the worst one. “One of us makes it out.” I looked at her firmly, making sure she understood how much I meant this. “Without one of us, they’ll die down here, slowly and painfully, and that cannot happen. No matter what happens, we make sure one of us gets out. Understood?”

Siobhan nodded, then we both turned our attention to the girls, who had begun to dig through a duffel bag they brought with them, pulling out board games and toys, dolls and stuffed animals. The kind Aster never could have dreamed of having out in the cabin.

“Come here, my love,” Siobhan said, scooping Róisín into her arms. She held her tightly, brushing her hair with her fingers. She kissed her face, and, regardless of who Siobhan was to me, my heart shattered for them. Two more lives broken by Éiren Connolly, and two who may yet be destroyed even more because of him. “I want you to be a good girl, okay? Either me or Bea is going to come get you really soon, and no matter who it is, I need you to listen and do what we tell you.”

“What about Papa?” she asked tearfully.

“He’s going to be okay,” Siobhan replied, her eyes briefly meeting mine as she lied to her daughter. We both knew there was little to no chance of that happening, but she was determined not to scare her daughter, who clearly had affection for her father, likely because she didn’t know what a monster he was.

While they had their moment, I went to Aster, speaking as quietly as I could. “I’m so sorry for all of this, Peachy. I know it’s confusing, and I know you’re scared, and I’m sorry for not protecting you from it.” I didn’t know what else I could say that would be appropriate to tell her or that wouldn’t make her even more scared. “But listen. I’m going to try to get back here for you. If it’s not me, I want you to follow Siobhan until you’re outside. If me or your momma doesn’t meet you there, I want you to run as far and as fast as you can. You’re going to find a grownup to help you…” I pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled down the name of the Silverleaf Coterie coven master and the phone number for their house. “And you’re going to ask them to help you call this person. Her name is Sarah. You’re going to tell her Bea Lightvale told you to call, and that you need her help. She’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Aster looked at me with abject fear now, and she threw her arms around me. “I don’t want to go somewhere else. I want to be with you and Momma.”

My chest clenched, and my throat tightened as I hugged her back. “I want that, too. And I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen. But I need to know you’re safe in case I get it wrong, okay? Promise me you’ll find Sarah if that happens.”

“I promise,” she sniffed, burying her face in my neck.

I took a deep breath of her, memorizing her smell, just in case… I couldn’t even think about it without crying, and the last thing I wanted was to upset her even more. I needed to be strong for her.

For my sister.

“Okay, Peachy,” I said, finally pulling away. “We have to go. Be good, and be brave, okay? Just like your momma taught you.”

“You, too, Bea,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You’re brave, too. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I didn’t think I’d be able to stand another second of a potential goodbye, so I stood and turned to Siobhan, who was still clinging to her daughter. Her eyes caught mine, and she set Róisín down, then moved to my side.

“Let’s do this,” I said, reaching for her hand. She seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because she didn’t hesitate. The second we touched, we were pulled through the very fabric of the world and back outside the mansion.

“I need to get back in there,” she said, shaking out her shoulders. “I imagine I’ll see you soon?”

I pulled out my phone, making sure I didn’t miss a message from Lysette while we were down there, but there was nothing.

“Hopefully,” I breathed. “I’m ready.”

“Me, too,” she said.

And then she was gone, leaving me to a moment of privacy where I could grieve. I might have just held Aster, who I now knew was not only my sister, but my legal ward, for the last time. I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my role until I mourned that loss.

I covered my mouth and screamed, muting the sound so no one inside would hear me. I wasn’t sure how I had the ability to do so anymore, after how often I’d done it lately, but somehow, my rage and grief made it happen. When my voice wore out, I dropped to my knees, the dewy grass soaking the fabric of my jeans, and I wept.

Never again, I swore. Never again would I allow him to ruin lives. To make anyone fear that they would lose someone dear to them.

This would be the last time.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I crouched to have access to one of the lower racks of my wine cellar as I raged at the voice in my head. The voice which kept oscillating between laughing at me and yelling at me, two things I did not tolerate well.

Hecate was relentless, creating a cacophony in my head that was all but debilitating, nearly causing me to lose it in front of Lysette, who was here, giving me a chance to make it alright.

In the privacy of the cool, slightly damp basement, I tried to ignore her, but it became impossible when I turned, a thousand dollar bottle in each hand, to see her standing before me. It was clear at a glance she wasn’t “here.” Despite the power I felt radiating from her, as always, there was a damper on it, and she wasn’t quite corporeal.

A pity, because it would have been rather satisfying to grip her by the throat and show her exactly how I felt about her toying with my mind.

“A test,” she said, reaching for me. Her hand passed right through, but instead of being the cool touch people associated with spirits, it was warm—hot. Almost uncomfortably so. “You were right all along. She’s the perfect vessel. And you will be able to stare into that face you so adore for eternity, serving at my side.”

Serving. Not ruling, as she always said, one more crack in the lie showing through to her true intentions, ones I wasn’t willing to abide. I may have started my life as a stable boy without an ounce of magic, but I went from nothing to the most powerful witch in the world. Goddess or not, I wasn’t going to be anyone’s bootlicker.

“You will never touch Lysette—magically, physically, nothing. I don’t care who you are or what you think you have a right to. The deal is off. I will allow your power to fade until you fade with it.”

I expected anger, but, as she often did, she surprised me by laughing as if I’d told the greatest joke ever.

“My beloved Clytius—”

“Éiren,” I bit at her. “Éiren… Thomas… Connolly. I may have forgotten my place in the world for a moment, but I am no more than a man. A man who was never meant to have these powers, and a man who will now be contented with a peaceful life with my family.”

She laughed even harder, the bell-like sound of the maiden more like the cackle of the crone I’d once known—not just in one form, but in two. “Just a man? The man who would be king. The man who survived while his family perished of the Black Death. The man who watched his lover and dearest friend murdered on his behalf. The man who accepted my power with no hesitation and used it to destroy hundreds in the blink of an eye. The man who sought me for centuries, killing and deceiving everyone around him to do so. The man who did exactly as he promised and burned the world down for the woman he loves.” She smiled, her face inches from mine, scalding me like a furnace. “And now, from the wreckage, you think you can refute me? You were never nothing, ‘Éiren Thomas Connolly.’ I told you that you are of the gods, and it’s true. You will take your place at my side. It was foretold, and I will not allow my beloved to slip through my fingers again.”

“No!” I shouted, and at least a dozen bottles of wine shattered around me. I ducked as the glass exploded into a cloud, thankfully missing me. I wasn’t sure how I would be able to explain walking upstairs covered in little cuts, my shirt soaked in blood and wine.

Hecate grinned triumphantly before turning her back to me, looking around like someone surveying a land they’d just conquered. “Yes, agape mou. Don’t hide your power. Your ancestor may have been the antithesis of magic, but you… You were made to bear what he never could. The magic manifested in you by way of cutting off magic and life. If you need any further proof of your origin—”

“I don’t give a damn about my origin!” Sweat formed on my brow, my hair wildly disheveled and sticking to my forehead. “You paint me like some kind of monster. Like I’m evil, irredeemable. Like—” She didn’t have to interrupt me this time. The look on her face, the gleeful, sadistic expression was enough to stop me cold. “Some must be sacrificed for the benefit of all. That’s the law of war! Some lives have to be lost for the good of everyone. The good…”

“Let’s not pretend either of us cares about what is good or not,” she said. “Those are constructs of lesser beings. You and I… we are not lesser beings. We were made to rule, and rule, we shall. It’s time for you to stop embroiling yourself in ridiculous, trivial matters and do what you were born to. Make her the sacrifice, allow me to return—”

“Please,” I begged, dropping to my knees hard enough that I heard them crack on the hardwood floor. “Anyone but Lysette. I’ll give you the sister. My daughter, Beatrice. I’ll give you Julien, Siobhan. I’ll give any of them—all of them, if you want—but please…” Hot tears burst forth, like I’d been holding them in a long, long time. “Not her.” Another surge of emotion blasted through me, and the bottles not destroyed in the first wave shattered over me. This time, I didn’t escape the impact of them, and dozens of shards sliced into my skin, ruining my shirt with cuts and blood. I was losing it. Not just my mind, but my control over my magic.

Which meant we were all in danger.

“I will have them. All of them,” she said, looking down her nose at me. “You are past the point of bargaining. The stage is set, and all will play their roles.”

The cellar went silent, save for my panting breaths, and I was able to get to my feet. If she wanted a war, she would have one.

“Fine then,” I snarled. “You will see just what a monster you’ve made.”

She laughed once more, this time returning to the seductive, throaty sound I’d become used to during our “monthly visits” in the pavilion.

“I have no doubt…”

And then, she vanished.

I was miraculously still clutching the two bottles I came down here for, intact, and slowly ascended the stairs, calculating exactly what I would tell those who awaited me.

“Éiren!” Lysette cried, jumping to her feet and rushing to my side immediately. “What happened?”

I set the wine down as she began to examine me, and Julien caught my eye, asking me the same question without speaking it.

“Would you believe it? I think there’s a loose floorboard down there, because I tripped and tumbled into the shelves.” I plastered on a cocky smile Lysette would likely see through and sat down to allow her to do what she did best. “There’s three hundred thousand dollars I’ll never get back.”

She pulled back from me and gave me a look I was well-versed in. She didn’t buy it. But for whatever reason, she didn’t question me further, instead healing my face and extremities back to perfection.

My wife.

As she completed her task, she turned to walk away, and impulsively, I grabbed her hand, pulling her back to me and into my arms. Hecate’s threats echoed in my mind, and I realized if she got any more out of control, I’d have to do the one thing I’d never even considered.

“Thank you,” I whispered against her hair just before she looked up at me. “Whatever happens, whatever you decide. I want you to know I always chose you.”

Lysette said nothing, but her eyes spoke a million words—questions, accusations, pleas—all of which only stoked the guilt and shame I felt at knowing Hecate was right. I was the villain, no matter how much I claimed to be a savior.

“Right,” I exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as I could conjure. “Would you care to do the honors?” I pulled the cork from the bottle and offered it to Lysette, the conversation with Hecate still lingering. I just needed to wait it out, to let her disappear. If the cost of this power was my sanity and my future with Lysette, it was an easy choice. I never thought it would be, because I thought she and I would take on this mantle hand in hand, and I no longer trusted that to be the outcome of Hecate’s scheming. Without Lysette, it was all meaningless, anyway.

And, as per my history, I’d realized it too late.

“It’s lovely,” she said, sniffing the wine and smiling at me.

I melted. From the moment she walked in the door, I’d expected this would take some time, easing back into comfortable conversation. But having her here, enjoying a meal and some wine together, was more than I could have hoped for. Especially so quickly.

Almost too quickly.

And you believe she doesn’t have something to hide? Some plan to deceive and undermine you? She hates you. Rightfully so.

She well may. And once she sees I’m no threat, she’ll reconsider. She always does. And even if she doesn’t, she is off-limits. To you or anyone else who would threaten her.

I poured the wine, handing the first glass to Lysette and the second to Julien before enjoying the third for myself.

“Sláinte,” I said before downing the entire glass at once and pouring a second, hoping the alcohol might at least dull the voice, clearly singing her swan song and clutching at straws to keep me in her grasp. “Now—” I clapped my hands and watched Lysette jump, sending a pang of sadness through me—“let’s talk. It’s been nine years. I want to know everything. About you and about Aster. She’s… She’s perfect, Rosie. So bright, so beautiful. Just like her mother.”

Lysette was still nursing her first glass. She was keeping a subtle distance between us, and it nearly broke me, even though I knew why.

She was still afraid of me.

“She really is,” she said, dropping her gaze. “Despite… Despite how she came to be.” Her eyes met mine once more. “It was wrong, Éiren. You tricking me. I wouldn’t trade her for anything, but…”

“Then let’s focus on that,” I said, leaning against the bar and smiling at her. “On—”

A bolt of pain hit my head like an aneurysm, and I whimpered, shattering the wineglass I was holding. Jules and Lysette both lunged for me, ready to come to my aid.

“Éiren,” she gasped.

I looked down at my hand, covered in blood once more and full of little shards of crystal. Every single sacrifice I made over the last nine years played in my mind on an unbidden loop, and it was several moments before I even registered the laughter in my head.

Stop, I commanded, as though I had any sway over a deity, one who had now managed to affect my magic without my consent—twice.

You asked for this. Her voice was a low snarl, even through the mystical nature of it. You wanted this power. You killed for it, sold your soul—to me. And now, I will do with it as I please.

I clenched my eyes shut, my body shaking against the unwelcome fear her words sent through me. I thought that claiming her power, submitting to her every month, would elevate me and free me from the chains anyone or anything may still have on me, that it would give me the capacity to do the same for others. To show them a better way. To give those with magic the ability to rule over those without—not to control them for the sake of control, but to protect them from themselves.

Instead, I had become a pawn.

All you have desired is about to be yours. It is too late to change your mind. Enjoy your last moments of freedom… with her.

“No…” I whispered, as much a plea as it was a refusal.

“Éiren?”

I shook free of my stupor to find Lysette had reached for me and had my hand in hers, the fresh cuts already healed again.

She was nothing like the Goddess. She was truly good, having been given a dark gift like me, but choosing to find another way. It hit me all at once how her power lay not in the magic that could give her authority over everyone and everything she touched, but in her refusal to allow it to control her. She governed not by force, but by love.

Love I’d nearly been willing to throw away for this curse I’d inflicted on myself.

Éiren was desperate.

On the surface, it was a picture-perfect reunion, but beneath it was the worry that it was all temporary, like it always was. That he would get me back, and then, when I finally felt safe again, he’d go back to the Machiavellian sociopath he’d shown me time and time again.

“So, you can really see us all living together?” Julien challenged him.

I hadn’t heard what Éiren said to prompt it, having been too wrapped up in my own thoughts, but now I was at full attention, wondering what he could possibly have in mind.

“It could work,” Éiren replied coolly, looking only at me as I caught up to the conversation. “I know it can. Jules might deny it,” he said, putting a hand on my brother’s shoulder, “but I know how badly he misses Beatrice.”

Jules glanced at me, his plea from the hospital and the way he’d professed his continued love for her still in his eyes. But neither of us let the moment linger, not wanting Éiren to notice.

“But how would that work?” I asked, equal parts trying to keep him occupied and, against my better judgment, curious.

“The way it always did.” Despite the eagerness in his expression, he chugged another glass of wine, having replaced the broken one, and reached for the second bottle.

Worry resurfaced, a hydra rearing its head as I watched him pour. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t the type to get drunk like a frat boy. One glass, sure. Two, fine. But three in fast succession with the intent to drink more?

Something was wrong.

Something he was afraid of.

“Maybe we should discuss this tomorrow? You seem like you need sleep and—”

“Nonsense.” He brushed away the suggestion like it was a cloud of smoke.

There was an elephant in the room in the form of Éiren’s erratic behavior, and I looked to my brother for clues. Jules, however, shrugged, thoroughly nonplussed.

“But where will we live?” I asked, wishing Julien would jump in to help me understand what Éiren was thinking, but he’d strategically broken my gaze again. Even with his renewed loyalty, my father was right. Jules still had so far to grow. “The White Orchid… Well, it’s not there anymore. Would you expect us to live here? And what about Siobhan?”

As if summoned, she returned, hovering near the entry to the living room, clearly unsure about her place in this new dynamic.

“I suppose that’s up to her,” Éiren said, motioning for her to join us.

“I…” Siobhan choked on her words a bit and moved behind the bar, reaching for a bottle of whiskey, eyeing Éiren the whole time she did as if questioning her right to do so. He didn’t stop her, however, and she poured a glass, then took a long draught. “I… I’d want to stay.”

A long silence followed as all four of us contemplated the implications of Siobhan remaining with the coven—whatever coven that would be. Truthfully, if Éiren was recommitting to the family, then I would be the one to make such decisions as the coven master of the Circle of the White Orchid, and the idea of his girlfriend—the one who helped him dismantle my entire life—being a part of it was a difficult pill to swallow.

“Then I suppose the next order of business,” Éiren said, “is where we’ll live.” He looked around, a slight sneer crossing his lips as he took in the details of his personal prison. “I think we’ve outgrown this house. Possibly even this state. Let’s build something entirely new.” He began to pace with renewed enthusiasm, though the jerky movements of his usually graceful steps showed whatever cracks were happening in his mind.

“You have an idea?” Julien said. His voice was gruff, and I could imagine, given what he told me, that he was as concerned as I was that Éiren was either spiraling in his desperation to say the right thing… or he was serious. Both possibilities came with their own host of problems, and both terrified the life out of me.

“A million of them,” Éiren said, looking at me once more, the adoration in his eyes not masking the slightly crazed expression behind them. “But we’ll have time to figure it out. We just have to—”

He cut himself off with a groan as he toppled forward onto his knees, head in his hands once more. After a moment where he tensed in agony, he took a shaking breath, then looked back at me, still beaming, radiating pure joy. I hated that I was here to rip it away from him and felt my own desperation rising, a desire to find any other possibility. One where he could be made whole.

With me.

He ran his hand through his hair four times in rapid succession as he got to his feet once more, then gave a slight twitch of his head, almost like he was shaking a fly off his nose.

“Sorry,” he said, reaching for me. I let him, and he pulled me against him in a tight embrace, speaking into my ear. “I just… I truly thought I lost you. I couldn’t bear it if I did. I’m going to make everything right now. I promise.”

I gave in, sinking into him like a soft feather bed. His arms had always been a place of refuge, and, even now, knowing the horrible things he did to get me here, to get Aster here, all I could think about was the possibility that this might finally be enough for him.

That, and how very thin he felt. I wondered how many sleepless nights he must have spent, how many meals he must have missed while trying to find me. I couldn’t stifle the guilt I felt over it, even though I knew it had been his own actions which created the situation.

It was too much.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom and freshen up,” I said as I pulled back from him, trying to hold back my tears until I could be alone. He looked at me with concern and ran a single finger down my cheek, making me shiver. “I’m fine. Really. I just need a minute. Which way is it?”

Jules pointed to a door in the hall, and I gave him a nod of thanks

I walked as fast as my feet could carry me without running and closed the door behind me, locking it and sinking to the floor. The tears came hot and fast, unstoppable. The constant back and forth of the last hundred years raged within me, a turbulent sea of uncertainty that nearly broke me all over again.

I pulled out my phone, hoping for some kind of distraction, and as I did, I noticed a text from Bea come through with a soft ding!

I’d need to silence that before I went out, but first, I checked what she had to say.

Bea: What’s going on?

Even not hearing her voice, I knew she was anxious. Asking her to wait, to not act before I told her to, was a true test of her growth and her capacity to restrain herself. She hadn’t broken down the door yet, but I knew I needed to answer, or she would.

Lysette: Nothing yet. I promise, I’ll tell you when it’s time. Just be patient. Hispaniola.

I added the code word we’d agreed on at the end so she would know it was me and that I wasn't under duress of any kind, then sent the message and breathed a sigh of relief. I needed a little more time to figure out what the status quo was with Éiren seeming so… odd. But just knowing I’d have her here with me when I needed her, to make sure I didn’t succumb either to my own feelings or by his hand, was a balm to my soul. She’d seen me through the worst of the worst so far, and I knew she’d do it again.

I stood and rinsed my face, patting it dry with the plush black hand towel. There would be no disguising the fact that I’d been crying, but I hoped the severity of it wouldn’t be so obvious.

Once I fixed my hair and straightened my clothes, I took a final look in the mirror and went back to the living room.

Éiren was waiting for me, standing in the center of the room, and he’d put some music on over speakers built into the walls. Le Cygne. The song he always said sounded like the way felt to fall in love with me.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, holding out his hand for mine.

I glanced at Julien, who was watching me with concern—for my safety or for my weakness to Éiren, I wasn’t sure—then at Siobhan, who wasn’t watching me at all. Her eyes were on Éiren, and they were filled with heartbreak.

Éiren followed my gaze and stepped closer to me. “Give us a moment.” His eyes never left mine, but the words were clearly directed at the others. I watched as they both hesitated, then slunk from the room, Julien giving me one lingering, questioning glance before disappearing somewhere else in the house.

Once they were out of sight, I turned my attention back to Éiren and was surprised to find that his eyes were swimming with tears.

“Lysette…”

For all the reasons I had not to, for the fear I still felt that this was all just a ruse or a trick or, possibly worse, temporary before he fell back into that rage-filled, evil monster, I couldn’t resist this. Not him, at his most romantic and vulnerable, with eyes and attention only for me.

I put my hand into his, and he pulled me against him, his body once more fitting with mine. Two pieces of a puzzle that had been lost and were now able to finish the picture they were a part of.

The air was still as a quiet understanding passed between us.

One wrong move, and I’d kill him.

“I…” His mouth hung open, and he shook his head a little, trying to paint an excuse or maybe even an apology, but none came.

Instead, he began to sway gently, moving my body the way a good leader should. One tentative step and then another, building up to a full waltz. I felt our life together replay inside me like a montage of home movies, and every waltz we ever danced became a montage played out in this single moment.

“I love you, you know. I’ve never, ever stopped loving you.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ve never doubted you loving me. A million other things about you and me and us, yes, but never that.”

“Good,” he replied simply. “Siobhan… She was—”

“I don’t want to talk about Siobhan. We both… we both know why I came.”

He stopped and took a breath like he’d been holding it. “You’re supposed to kill me?”

“When did you know?”

“Lucky guess. So, why haven’t you?”

I looked away from him, his eyes already casting their eternal spell on me. I needed to think without them searching for the answer before I could give it. “Because… I’m not sure. Hope?”

“Did you promise Beatrice the killing blow?” He grinned, winking at me. “That would only be fair.”

“No. The opposite, actually. I ordered her not to. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I watched anyone else do it, even more than if I had to do it myself.”

“I see,” he hummed as the song faded out and the first few chords of Clair de Lune began. “If you must, I won't stop you.”

“That’s why I haven’t,” I said, begging him to tell me I was right to have let it go on this long. “I’m not sure I ‘must.’ But we’ve been here before, haven’t we?”

“Indeed. But if I may place any final requests, could I just have this moment, here, with you? Just as us. Éiren and Lysette, Lysette and Éiren. Night and day, sun and moon, the stars and the sea.”

I watched a tear fill his eye as he said the mantra we used to use with only each other, then reached up to wipe it away before nodding.

He dropped down onto the leather sofa and pulled me with him, crying into my hair the way he always had in his worst moments, before those moments turned from sadness to cruelty and deception. I wrapped a hand around the back of his head and stroked his hair with my other, soothing him, living for the way he sank into me, the way he gave me his melancholy, his very soul, untainted by the world and his own demons.

He leaned back slightly, and his eyes sparkled with moisture. “Kiss me?” he asked.

I didn’t even hesitate. I pulled him closer, capturing his lips with my own and pulling me on top of him. In seconds, our bodies were practically interconnected with the way we entwined ourselves, and it truly felt like everything could be alright. Like this was the end of it.

But the way Éiren said he wouldn't stop me told me the confrontation may yet be coming.

“You know,” he mused tearfully, “I never thought I’d feel you like this again. Here, in my arms. I’ve spent the last decade deluding myself that all it would take was your physical presence, that somehow I would come up with an explanation, something good enough. Something you would believe. But now I realize how foolish that would be. I love you for your intelligence and kindness and sense of justice, all the things which have made lying to you, manipulating you, wrong.”

He paused to take a breath, and I interjected. “I’m not any of those things. I’m just some orphan from France who found a good family to fall into. I’m nothing. I’m practically worthless without my family. Without Bea and Aster and—”

“You are not worthless,” he said, pressing a finger to my lips. “You are the most incredible person I’ve ever known. Broken people like me aren’t drawn to you because they want to break you. It’s because they see how strong you are, and they hope that if they can be close to you, maybe they can be that strong, too.” He shifted slightly so he could look into my eyes once more. “That was what I wanted. I wanted to be your Prince Charming and be the person who made you feel safe and whole. And I really fucked that up, but it’s not because you weren’t worth it. It’s because I was too broken to know I was wrong. It’s not right, and it’s not fair that you ended up broken, too. But it isn’t because you’re not worth it. You are worth everything—worth getting better for. I just wish I had seen it sooner.”

The sound of the record turning without any tracks left to play punctuated the tension between us. I couldn’t believe this, what he was saying, how he was owning up to all of it. A thousand conversations of how “this time” would be different, and not a single one had ever gone like this.

“Éiren—”

Ding!

My heart stopped. The phone in my pocket buzzed along with the sound.

I forgot to silence it.

“What’s that?” he asked as I looked at him with wide eyes, the anger I feared nowhere to be found. His free hand went to my face, then moved slowly down my body in a way that was nothing if not intimate—a caress with a purpose. When he reached my hip, he dipped his hand into my pocket and pulled out the phone. He raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s from Beatrice. She’s waiting for your signal.” He read the messages, swiping through. His face fell with each flick of his fingers, and when his eyes went wide as he finally looked at me, I tensed, ready for the fight to begin as Éiren realized the extent of our planning.

To my surprise, however, he handed me the phone without question, though the hurt was evident in his face and voice. “Invite her in. No sense in talking about the future for all of us if someone isn’t here to have her voice heard. And Beatrice will certainly make sure her voice is heard, one way or another.”

As soon as he said it, his entire body seized up, and I watched helplessly as it appeared he couldn’t breathe, a vein in his forehead bulging prominently.

“Éiren!”

He had nearly begun to drool, like some cruel trick of the universe was turning his own magic back on him. But before I could even try to help, he suddenly gasped for air and held up a shaking hand to reassure me.

“I’m… okay,” he said, panting. “Just the… same headache…”

“You’re full of shit,” I whispered to him, my own tears falling gently, the fear I felt for what he may do overpowered now by the fear I felt for what was happening to him. “I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

Before he could answer, Julien and Siobhan returned, likely not having gone far. They’d clearly heard me shouting his name, because they both looked terrified at what they were about to find and confused when it was nothing, if not benign.

“Lys?” Julien posed, looking between us.

“I’m okay,” I replied. “Éiren was having a fit of some kind.”

“Not a fit,” he nearly interrupted. “But… let's wait for the whole gang to arrive. Tell Beatrice she’s welcome to use the front door as long as it’s with her hands this time.”

She betrayed you…

I didn’t even have a rebuttal against it. Lysette said so, herself. Not only had she come in here under the pretense of reconciling, but Julien, whom I’d given everything to—shelter, power, sex—when he had outgrown his situation, was working against me as well.

Fury coursed through me, though, surprisingly, not mine—Hecate’s. Because despite the blow I’d been dealt, I knew they were right to want to stop me, and I was still fighting against her continued insistence that she use Lysette as her vessel.

“I’m certain Beatrice is vibrating with anticipation,” I said, nodding toward Lysette’s phone again, since she hadn’t moved a muscle. “Let’s not keep her waiting.”

She watched me with worry, something I felt, myself. Hecate was lashing out at me in my mind, using my own magic and the magic which came from her to send waves of agony throughout my entire body. She hoped I would succumb to the torture and give in, becoming her accomplice in making Lysette her vessel.

They both betrayed you…

And I will deal with it when the time is right, I snarled back, knowing full well I had no intention of doing so. I’d made a mistake, thousands of them, and I wasn’t going to hold Lysette responsible for trying to stop me from making more. Especially knowing the price I’d already paid and the price still needed for the goal I’d given decades to. In my way, my time. Not yours.

I felt my face moving with the projection of my thoughts, knowing my visible descent into this madness was only adding fuel to the fire of Lysette’s fear of what was happening in my mind.

“Okay,” Lysette said, typing out the text to Bea. She sent it, then looked up at me. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

The look in her eyes showed me just how broken she was. I’d done that. She’d been through hell and back before me, and still, it was me who’d stripped her of her resilience.

Or so I thought.

Standing, facing me, it couldn’t have been clearer that she’d never lost it. She was strong, able to love with all she had, even through her pain.

Pain I’d given her.

“Never better.” I kissed her cheek. “It’s all going to be okay now.”

No!

The magic within me flared, and I was thrown back into a mirrored wall, which shattered under the impact. I fell to all fours on the floor, the stone sending jolts of pain through my bones and joints. I was panting, wheezing, feeling blood pulse from the back of my scalp into my hair.

My head pounded as I forced myself back to my feet, and my ribs ached from the thundering of my heart.

If you won’t do it, I will. I will use your magic and mine to bring all of them to their knees. Don’t forget where that power came from. I will kill them all and make you watch. Starting with her. My vessel.

“I’m sorry, Rosie,” I panted, clutching my chest where my own breath was coming hard and fast. “I swear I’ll explain, but stay back.”

It was getting worse.

The pain, her rage. Hecate was reclaiming the magic she gifted me, and I didn’t have long before I wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“What do you need?” Lysette’s voice was thick with worry, her fingers twitching like they longed to comfort me, even as she held her arms at her sides, afraid to reach out.

I knew what I needed. What I needed to do. The thing I’d been too afraid to do for fear it would be irreversible. That if I did it, I would never see her again.

I needed to set her free.

Hecate’s power was waning, and she couldn’t possess me—not truly. She could lash out with my magic or turn it against me, but she had hours, days at most, before the power I now dreaded would fade, and I could be safe around Lysette, Aster, and anyone else who came along with them.

“I need you to—”

My lips clamped shut, my tongue, throat, mouth not moving, no matter how hard I tried. I clawed at my throat, unable to draw even a single breath.

Was this what I’d done to people? The panic, the agony of knowing you would die, shredding your own skin to try to create a way to get air, all the while knowing it wouldn’t help?

“Éiren!” Lysette screamed, rushing forward, but Julien grabbed her and dragged her away, kicking and shouting things in French far beyond my own abilities, but the gist was clear. She was furious, terrified.

Not of me… but for me.

It won’t save her. It’s already too late.

I was the architect of my own downfall, and now… it had come.

After I got her text, it took me a moment to get myself into the right mindset to join Lysette and to not be ready to strike at first sight. I had to force the magic that was stirring, roiling, aching for a release, back down. Lysette said no fighting, but I wasn’t going to leave her in there to face him, to face this, alone. Siobhan was with her, but I had no guarantee that she would keep Lysette safe. In fact, if it came down to one of them or the other, I had no doubt my tenuous ally would choose herself.

After all, if it was between her or me, I’d make the same call.

I walked up to the door, raising my hand to knock, then paused. I was ready to face Éiren, ready to be there for Lysette. But the ring in my pocket seemed to burn with my promise to myself. I was going to have to see Julien, who’d stolen Aster from me, who’d tricked and betrayed and broken me.

And I was going to have to go back on my promise to myself to kill him on sight.

“For Lysette,” I whispered as I finally knocked on the door.

No answer.

I rang the bell.

One minute… Two…

Nothing.

If no one was answering, what was happening to prevent it?

“Fuck it,” I hissed, raising my boot and positioning it at the door. I’d done it once—I could do it again.

“Have you tried the handle?”

Fucking Siobhan…

I turned and looked at her, standing behind me, watching me with disdain, though it didn’t disguise the slight tremor in her hands.

She was scared.

“What are you doing out here?” I hissed, not wanting anyone inside to hear.

“Éiren…” she said, shaking her head. “He’s out of control. He—”

That was all she could get out before it was enough for me to make a move. I tried the handle, like she said. Unlocked. I rushed in, trying to keep it together. Lysette said no fighting, I kept reminding myself as I ran down the hall. My hands itched to hold my flames as I did before, but I refrained.

For my sister.

It was only fifteen steps from the front door, through the foyer, and to the wide opening which led to the living room.

The last time I was here, Éiren, Julien, and Siobhan were enjoying celebratory drinks at my expense. At having gotten one over on me and stolen the ring, the epicenter of the earthquake Éiren Fucking Connolly unleashed in all our lives.

Now, there was no sense of victory. Éiren crouched at one end of the room, his white shirt covered in blood as his limbs shook. Standing before him was Lysette, who only glanced at me for a moment before returning her gaze to him, but it was long enough for me to see the worry there—for him. My mole, Siobhan, had teleported back inside and hovered near Julien, the dynamic between them tense, having shifted in some way. The traitor, for his part, was standing near the door, close enough for me to touch if I felt so inclined, and while I would have loved to have run him through with my knife, I kept my promise. His hands twitched at his sides, ready to strike out at Lysette if she made a move against Éiren.

There was something wrong here. Something I could feel in the air and from my sister. But no one was making any kind of moves, and I’d promised to follow her lead.

Éiren let out an enormous gasp, like he was in pain, and stayed on his hands and knees, panting.

“Nice of you to join us, Beatrice,” he said in a voice that made it seem like I’d shown up to a family dinner instead of what was clearly the precursor to a violent showdown.

Lysette turned to me, reaching out her hand for mine.

What the fuck happened while I was outside? And why weren’t we fighting?

I moved to her side, away from Julien, making sure she could feel my shoulder against hers and know I was here to support her. “I’d say thanks for the invite, but I think it got lost in the mail.”

He got to his feet with some help from Siobhan with an odd, deferential sort of bow of his head in my direction. “Regardless. Come in. We have much to discuss, and it’s only fair that you have a say in your part.”

“Oh?” I crossed my arms, trying to hold back and using the physical close-off to keep myself in check. “If it’s bleeding out on your floor, I’ll pass. Zero out of five stars the first time.”

“Bea—” Julien hissed.

“Don't you even start.” I held up a hand toward him, letting him know his input was unnecessary and unwanted.

“Oh, Beatrice,” my father said. “You do have such a… way… about you.”

“Guess it’s in the genes.”

“Sit.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” I spat, leaning harder against Lysette. Why was she just standing there?

“Bea…” Julien tried once more.

“What the fuck,” I shouted, moving toward him quickly, getting in his face before remembering my orders to not fight—yet—and taking a step back, “could you possibly have to say to me? Fuck you. You’re a coward. You deserve nothing. Not even the air I breathe or air at all.”

“I know.”

“Wow, did you actually grow some balls in the last nine years? You kidnapped Aster, and that’s only the latest in a long line of fuckups. You think I want to hear anything you have to say ever again? Go to hell and rot there, you—”

“Beatrice.”

“You don’t get to say my name!”

“Béatrice…” Éiren cooed from behind me.

“Neither do you, asshole!” My patience had run out. But I didn’t want magic for this. I wanted to feel it. So, in a split second decision about which of them would receive my wrath, I closed the remaining distance between Julien and me… and punched him as hard as I could in the face.

“Beatrice!” Lysette’s voice finally came in an admonition, one I fully deserved, but I couldn’t care. Not when I was finally able to release this rage.

“Come now, Jules,” Éiren said, practically giggling from where he watched. “Surely, you can settle your wife down.”

“Knock it off!” Lysette hissed at him, but I was seeing red.

“I will kill you,” I whispered to Julien as he cupped his bleeding nose, ignoring Éiren’s baiting. “As soon as I have the green light… you’re a dead man. Just like you pretended to be.”

“Bea,” my sister said once more, grabbing my elbow and pulling me away from my ex, who was struggling to keep blood off his shirt. The vanity was nauseating.

“He’s a cowardly little shit,” I growled at her before rounding on Éiren. “And he’s a literal demon, so why don't we do what we came here to do? Blow this place sky high, and be done with it.”

“We have a beautiful future ahead of us, my dear daughter,” Éiren interjected. “Let’s not start off on the wrong foot.”

“Already too late, with you here.”

“Perhaps,” he said, getting to his feet, and it gave me a sick thrill to see him struggling. Good. I hoped he was in pain. “But I will do what I must. You, on the other hand…” He looked me up and down, weighing his words with a twisted sort of grin. “You’ve either had fifty energy drinks on your way over, or you took to my dark magic exactly as well as I imagined you would.”

My pulse spiked at him outing me, but I forced my face to remain neutral. “Not sure what you’re talking about,” I said with a shrug. I needed him—needed both him and Julien—to believe I was impotent until it was too late for them. “It didn’t take. Took my own magic with it, but it was worth it.”

“Oh, are we still telling that story?” he said, taking a step closer. As he did, the air around him seemed to ripple. I thought it was power, but I felt a wave of magic calling to me, to my blood, in a way I’d only felt a few times before. In Salem, when the ring was yet hidden. In my dreams which weren’t dreams, when I realized how much I didn’t understand. In Sedona, when she appeared before me.

It was her. Hecate. Not just her power, but her.

She was here.

“We’re not alone,” I said, glancing briefly at Lysette.

“No,” Éiren replied, taking my sister’s hand and heading for the sitting area. “And that’s exactly what I need to talk to you about.” He sucked in a breath like he was in pain and then whimpered. “Before it’s too late.”

Disallowing Hecate to use me was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. In fact, ending my own life would have been much easier. But Lysette needed an explanation. She deserved one.

And what? the Goddess's voice sneered. Maybe she’ll help save you? She knows as well as I that no one can. I am your only hope for a future.

Her fury felt like someone was inside my abdomen, punching all my vital organs one by one.

“Lys,” Bea said with a snap, her already dismal patience worn out. “Are we really going to sit here and let him try to talk us out of holding him responsible? Do you even know what he did to Sebastian?” She flopped down into a hundred-year-old Chanel chair without so much as bothering to take her boots off. A different kind of roiling turned my stomach, but in comparison, it was a scratch.

“I just want to explain what’s happening. So you know what to—” I flung my top half forward and vomited on the floor, retching so hard the blood vessels burst in my eyes.

“A brain tumor? Hopefully a very aggressive, fast-moving one?” my daughter said.

“Beatrice,” Lysette scolded.

“No,” I gasped. “It’s… Hecate. I fucked up. She wants to—” Once again, I found my mouth bound and my body screaming for breath, my lungs threatening to aspirate the bile that remained.

For the first time, a look of startled discomfort passed Beatrice’s face.

“What do you mean you fucked up?” she asked. “Haven’t you been kissing her ass this whole time?”

My mouth came free again, and I gasped, drinking down as much air as I could. “Yes. Yes, but—” I groaned as Hecate struck again, systematically cutting off blood flow to my brain and restarting it, over and over.

“Everyone stop asking him questions,” Lysette snapped, clearly off-track from the easy kill she now had in me.

The room fell silent, and Hecate released me once more.

Now be a good little Titan, and we won't have to do that again.

“You two,” my wife indicated to Beatrice and Jules. “I need a moment. Go sort out your shit—without fists, Beatrice. Give me some time to think. If you hear anything, come back to me. And yes, that is an official command.”

“That ship has sailed,” Beatrice snarled, despite knowing she had no say over an order from her coven master. “He’s a traitor and a coward.”

But Julien, who’d finally stopped his nose bleeding, said, “Yes… coven master.”

Beatrice’s head looked like it might snap off for how forcefully she turned to look at Lysette.

“Lys…?”

She looked at Beatrice with a mix of guilt and defiance. “We both kept secrets when we needed to.”

“Lysette, don’t,” Julien said, but my dear daughter cut him off.

“He kidnapped Aster,” she said, her voice weak with shock.

“He… came to me after,” Lysette said matter-of-factly. “He knew he fucked up, and we needed the help, and he asked me for time to tell you on his own. I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill that promise, Jules. Bea, I trust you, and I need you to trust me, too.”

Beatrice stood, mouth agape as she contemplated for a moment, then stormed off down the hall, Julien following in her footsteps like a scolded puppy.

I watched them go, then returned my gaze to Lysette. This was it. These would have to be our final moments, or I would end up doing something I couldn’t take back from the punishment I was suffering.

I heard Siobhan tidying up the broken glass, and I thought about dismissing her for a moment. But that would be one less breath I’d have with Lysette, with my wife. Maybe forever.

She shifted so I could put my head in her lap, and I accepted the gesture gratefully.

“Hello, Rosie.” I breathed with effort.

“I’m scared to ask you what’s happening,” she said, stroking my hair again.

“Well, that’s perfect,” I coughed. “I’m scared to tell you.”

“I know why I came here, what I planned to do, but… I’m terrified of losing you. For good, I mean.”

God. The agony of her leading me down a path I mentally could not go. Not if I was truly going to go out on my own terms.

You think I’d let you? You think you have any say in what happens now?

Then I’ll let you wither away and take me with you. I know you would never go down without a fight. Find yourself another vessel.

“Three,” I said, returning to my love once more. “We already have two, but I could probably persuade you into another baby, right?”

Lysette’s lip curled slightly, but she laughed softly anyway. “You already have three, in case you've forgotten. We only have one.”

“Ah… So, you will agree to two more, then. Perfect.” I reached up and stroked her face. “Listen,” I said, trying to keep my composure strong. “I need you to do what you came here to do. And if you can’t, I’m sure Beatrice will be more than happy to oblige.”

She pulled her hands away like she’d been shocked. “Absolutely not,” she said, scolding me as surely as she’d done to Beatrice for the last three hundred years. “Certainly not now. Not when—”

“If you don’t, we’re all fucked. She’s never going to let me tell you, and… and I’m afraid she won't let me do it, myself.”

“What are you saying?” she whimpered. “I can’t… you can’t. Not right when everything is getting better. I… I need you. I tried not to, but—”

I grabbed her wrists as I’d once done, soft but firm. “You’re running out of time. She’s getting more desperate. You have to do it—now.”

“I won’t,” she said, tears falling from her cheeks onto my face. “If she’s that desperate, she won’t let you… die. We can fight this. We can fix it. We’ll find a way.”

“You don’t understand.” I used my hands to feel her, every inch, so that if, perhaps, I was lucky enough to be welcomed into an afterlife, I’d remember it all. “You don’t understand. It’s not me that she—”

I was about to run my hand up under her shirt, just to feel the warmth of her skin, when an enormous surge of Hecate’s power—a Hail Mary from the Goddess—threw me from Lysette’s lap and blasted both my wife and the couch backward, throwing her across the floor, the furniture crashing op top of her as it did.

Time’s up.

“No!” I screamed, my voice breaking with fear.

This was me—my fault. I had single-handedly brought it to this. All my lust for power and desperate need to prove I was right had led here, and I was helpless to interject as I watched the Goddess force my hand.

And I couldn’t bear to know what came next.

“Bea…”

“Don’t.”

I stormed out of the living room, Julien right behind me, as Lysette—our coven master—commanded.

We made it to a large room which was obviously used for meetings, and I made for the chair at the head of the table. I wanted it to be clear who had the upper hand in this conversation, and I could think of no better way to illustrate that than to take the place of the fucker he sold his soul to.

“Bea,” he said again, this time with more urgency, and he grabbed my arm from behind.

“I said fucking don’t!” I spat at him, spinning and wrenching my arm from his grip. He was supposed to be dead on sight, not able to have his say about what he’d done. There was no coming back from it. Not where I was concerned. “Do not touch me.”

“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands and taking a step back. “But we have to talk. You know we do.”

I growled low in my throat. He was right. Lysette had gone as far as to command us to “sort out our shit.” At least she’d only specified I couldn’t use my fists. It was a loophole, but she failed to mention knives…

I reached down to my thigh, Julien watching me with wide eyes, leaning away subconsciously as I drew my favorite blade. I stepped toward him, holding it up to the light. But instead of striking, I turned back to Éiren’s chair and sat in it, lounging as casually as I could, the knife swinging in my hand, up and down and in little circles—a few tricks I’d learned over the years.

“Fine. Let’s talk. You go first. Let’s start with how you tricked me into thinking you were dead. How you lied about it when you came back. How you stole the ring and gave it to Éiren Fucking Connolly so he could try to kill me to—”

“I didn’t know he was going to—”

“I wasn’t finished.” He fell silent, even though I could see his cheeks growing ruddy with the effort of holding his tongue. I’d said he could go first, but my fury was more powerful. “You left the White Orchid and joined him, betraying me, and worse, betraying Lysette. You killed the whole goddamn coven and were ready to let us die with it. You’ve been fucking Siobhan for nine years, raising her child with her like a simpering fucking cuckold, which I guess you are. I mean, it’s clear she only has eyes for Éiren. And how’s that coven he promised you in exchange for delivering me to him? Oh, right. You’re still just a worthless little pissant beneath his boot. Not a coven master. You’re barely even a person.”

He remained silent, waiting for me to finish, and it made me rage even harder. I hadn’t wanted to speak to him at all, but now that I was forced to, I wanted the fight. I wanted every reason in the world to scream at him and break him the way he’d broken me.

“Speak, you fucking coward!”

He took a deep breath, then sat across the table from me, his hands folded in front of him.

“You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m fucking right!” I sat forward and stabbed my knife into the mahogany table, listening to it wobble as I stared my cheating, conniving ex-husband in the face. “What could you possibly have to say for yourself? What the hell could you have possibly said to make Lysette not only forgive you, but let you back into the White Orchid? It must have been fucking good.”

He dropped his gaze to the table, shame radiating from him like poison, nearly making me gag. How dare he have the audacity to feel bad for himself?

“I fucked up.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I spat, pulling the knife free again and pointing it at him like a sixth finger. “You gave up everything. You told me you had been willing to let go of your desire for the coven if you could have had me. And you did. I was there, a hundred thousand percent ready to give you everything. To be everything you wanted.”

I stood, throwing the chair against the wall. He didn’t even flinch.

Why wouldn’t he just fucking react?

I rushed over to him, spinning the chair and gripping one of the armrests while holding my knife up, just shy of touching his nose. I wanted to. I wanted to sap him of every ounce of his magic and watch him bleed. But a small voice which sounded a lot like Lysette spoke in the back of my mind, reminding me he was on our side, regardless of how irrational and unbelievable it was.

“I loved you. I… loved… you.” I wanted to die as my eyes filled with tears. I didn’t want him to see this, how thoroughly he’d broken me. But if it would add to whatever torture he was inflicting on himself, all the better. “I’ve never loved anyone else. And yeah, I was a shitty wife sometimes.”

Beneath his fear and guilt, he smirked slightly and raised an eyebrow, and I could have stabbed him right then and there. Not just because it was so inappropriate…

But because it almost worked. I almost smiled, too.

To keep him from seeing it, I turned away again, crossing my arms. I couldn’t let him in. Coven family or no, I could never trust him the way I once did. Unconditionally, completely.

“Fine,” I admitted with a dry laugh. “I was a shitty wife most of the time.” I turned back to him, my facial expressions once more under control as I leaned against the whiteboard behind me. “I didn’t know how else to react when you kept letting me down. Every time I’d think things were getting better, you’d come home late, smelling like someone else’s perfume, or you’d miss something important. Like the start of our wedding. It started that early. Six months after we met, you were already showing me that you couldn’t be counted on, and you just kept proving it. Over and over.”

I may not have wanted to have this conversation, but I couldn’t deny how cathartic it was. Maybe that was why I didn’t want it. Because I knew, if I had the chance to say these things, it would quell some of the hatred I felt toward him, and that hatred was fuel for me. It was fire for my soul, a way to keep going when nothing else could.

Well, not nothing. My love for my sisters was greater than my hatred.

“I could give you a long list of reasons and excuses for each and every time I screwed up,” he said, moving to stand before me, hands in his pockets, just out of reach of my knife. “But I won’t. Because if I’ve learned one thing from serving at the pleasure of Éiren for the last nine years, it’s that no excuse matters when you hurt someone. And I’ve hurt you more than I’ve hurt anyone, even Lysette.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I could even blame certain things on Éiren commanding me to do them, but at the end of the day, I still did them. Because, as much as I want to pretend I didn’t, I knew who and what he was when I joined him. And I could have left at any point. I didn’t. I’m just hoping…” He took a deep breath and stepped back, rocking slightly, as if working up the nerve to say what he wanted. “I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I just hope you can find a way to—”

Whatever he was hoping for, I didn’t hear. Because right at that moment, the house shook with the force of the loud crash we heard from the living room along with a scream from Lysette.

Our eyes met for just a second, one where our terror was mirrored in each other. We both rushed from the room, leaving behind some of the weight of what was said and careening toward whatever was about to happen next.

Time stood still.

One second, my brain was rushing to try to understand what Éiren was implying, and the next, I was wiping blood from my eyes as I attempted to pull myself from the wreckage.

“Lysette!”

Bea’s voice sounded like she was calling for me from underwater, and the thumping of her footsteps echoed along with the pounding in my head.

“Bea…” I whimpered, trying to reach for her, but my arm wasn’t working. Broken? I wasn’t sure. I barely even knew how I got here.

I tried to heal myself, just enough to fix the bleeding and any broken bones, but it was like using a lighter that was out of fluid. Little sparks that did nothing. I’d used too much already, between bringing myself back to full health after the hospital, then healing Éiren multiple times tonight. I could try to tap into the dark magic that was always right there, but I didn’t want to affect anyone’s ability to fight by stealing from them. Especially not when it seemed like they were going to need it.

“What did you do?” Bea shouted, and I felt a pulse of magic I didn’t recognize—something powerful.

Hecate?

The noise of the room, the clamor that seemed even Siobhan had gotten involved in, was mere background noise as the world narrowed down to the two of us—me… and the Goddess.

She was right in front of me, standing as though in a light breeze, even as the rest of the room descended into a full-on whirlwind. I’d never seen her, but there was no mistaking her. The way she was wreathed in darkness and light, radiating power from the very core of her being.

“Let him go,” I demanded, trying to sound like I wasn’t begging.

“Oh, I plan to,” she said, taking a step toward me, her golden chiton rippling around her. “Now that I have what I want, I have no need to control him.”

“What is it you wanted? Chaos? It would be fitting.”

“I’ll have that, too. I want my magic—all magic. It was mine, and you, weak little humans, stole it from me. Trapped it in yourselves and that ring. But, thanks to our darling lover, I have everything I need to reclaim it.”

What was she implying? “You and Éiren…?”

“In this lifetime and others. My Clytius and Éiren Connolly are one and the same.”

My Éiren… I thought.

“And he will remain yours… for eternity. You just won’t be there for it.”

Fear overtook me with a force I’d never experienced before, and I trembled at the way she looked at me, like I was nothing.

“Your father…” she snarled, “was my last attempt. Amit. Another descendant of Clytius, though not his reincarnation like Éiren. But my true lover was… unavailable for a while.”

Éiren was Clytius? The very idea was so far-fetched, and yet, him being a reincarnation of some powerful, mythological being would explain him in so many ways. The ease with which he could command a room, the way he exuded power—not just because of his magic, but because of his personality.

“Your mother,” Hecate continued, a cruel smirk on her face, “though she carried you, was carrying my child—the child of my lover. My child by magic. I owned you. You were born to be my vessel. But Jacques Chevalier had other plans. He wanted to make you his… What did he call you? His child of light. And I was weak. Trapped in a human form…”

“Ysabel…” I panted. “You were Ysabel. But why? You’ve been with me my whole life. I mourned you.”

“Your Éiren and I have much in common. Specifically, that we like to keep track of our… investments.”

I could have screamed. I wanted Bea. Fuck, I’d even take Jules. Someone to tell me this wasn’t happening.

From somewhere in the background, I could hear the scuffle cease, and Éiren cried out, “Lysette! No!”

“Your magic called to me, even weakened as I was,” Hecate continued. “Reborn over and over into the body of an old woman, crippled and shunned. But your father—Jacques—was all too willing to accept an elderly witch bearing a child, one born of dark magic, orphaned when her magic, powerful even before she could crawl, claimed her mother. It was even easier when he realized your mother was the woman he’d loved for years. I helped raise you, cultivating that same power in you which was once only mine. The light… and the dark.”

My mother? I killed her? No… Father never said…

“It wasn’t easy, orchestrating the events that led Éiren to your doorstep. I lost track of him for a couple of centuries after I gifted him magic. So often, you thought I simply wandered off and got lost, but I was seeking. Seeking my ring, seeking him. I convinced a small coven in Salem, near where he had settled, to go after their own. One of my descendants—your dear Beatrice—managed to escape, and with her…”

Éiren. He’d escaped the witch trials, the ones Hecate had initiated, herself, to smoke him out. He found his way to Julien and Bea, and they brought him home. To me. We all played right into her hands.

“I’d hoped Beatrice would have the ring,” Hecate continued, “but it became clear rather quickly that she had no idea of its existence. Catherine obviously thought she would have more time to tell her about it and their duty to protect it, which concerned me at first, but in the end, it worked perfectly. Beatrice never knew her mother was guarding the ring from the very Goddess whose magic it held. Her ignorance was the precise piece of the puzzle needed to ensure it fell into the hands of my beloved. Clytius, reborn into the body of a man, tall for his time, because he was descended of a Titan. Whatever name he bears now matters not. He was mine centuries, millennia, before you were even born.”

She moved even closer, looking down at me with a smile like a shark, cold and without feeling. Hungry.

“Be thankful, Lysette. Together, you and I will have him. Forever.”

“Lysette!”

Beatrice came storming in, Julien at her heels. They came skidding to a stop, taking in the scene before them.

Hecate was out of control. Her power filled the room, creating a vortex of wind. My hair whipped around and into my eyes, and the force of it was so strong that it kept me from reaching Lysette. Each time I managed to crawl forward, I would be blown back, or a bottle would fly off the shelves, striking me and sending me reeling.

“What did you do?” Beatrice screamed at me. She took a step forward, and I expected her to reach for her knives, but instead, she held her hands out in front of her, and a raw, powerful magic began to coalesce between them. Even with the surge of godly power all around, Beatrice managed to keep her footing.

Julien, on the other hand, looked wildly around for the source, ducking when projectiles went his way and struggling back to his feet.

“It’s not me,” I managed to shout through the tempest. I pointed to Hecate, and Beatrice looked to where Lysette was cornered, squinting, before her eyes grew wide.

“Like hell, it’s not! You’re the one who started all this.” Whatever this new magic was that she was summoning, she withdrew, choosing to let it fade rather than striking with it. Instead, she rushed toward me, her booted foot coming up under my abdomen, breaking one of my ribs. “How does it fucking feel?”

I collapsed in agony beneath the strikes of her steel-toed boots, only accented by a large cracking noise echoing around us.

The entire building shook, and it was as if a full-blown tornado had struck. In less than a second, not only the roof, but the top two floors of the house, were torn off, leaving us exposed to the light of the full moon above.

“Aster!” I shouted to Beatrice, true fear filling me. She was in her room, and her room…

She reached down and grabbed my hair, pulling my face to meet hers. “Oh, you suddenly care what happens to other people?” She spat on me. “She’s safe. No thanks to you. I got her out and somewhere you can’t touch her an hour ago—with help.”

“What about—” I dodged a punch she threw—“what about Róisín?” I was tentative to ask this, knowing her extreme disdain for Siobhan and all things related to her, but I loved her, too. My child. “She’s your—”

“Sister. I’m not fucking stupid.” She hit me again. “Your sacrifice is safe, too. I’m not you.”

“Sacrifice?” I continued to shout. “I would never—”

“It was her blood that caused this. You bled her for years to make it happen.”

“How do you…” I coughed. “How do you know that?”

“Who do you think helped me? You threatened Siobhan’s daughter, and she abandoned your sinking-ass ship. Just like Julien. Look around you. You drove everyone away with your greed and cruelty, and now it’s over, you evil, ruthless bastard. I hope you’re fucking proud!” She pushed me over with her foot, then kicked me right between the legs. “Too much to hope that you won’t be able to make any more.”

The news that Siobhan had betrayed me as well was a dull blow compared to the shock of the implication in Beatrice’s words. “You’re going to let me live?”

Another blow to the ribs and another fracture later, she bent down again. “I never fucking said that. The choice isn't mine, unfortunately. Lysette gave an order, and I respect her and her choices. Unlike you.”

“God, you’re insufferable.” I coughed again, accidentally spitting a little blood onto her shirt. She looked down in disgust, ready for another blow, verbally or physically, but I cut her off. “Probably because it’s hard to look in a mirror.”

“I’m not like you,” she snarled, but the look in her eyes said everything. She knew it, too. I may not have raised her, but apparently, genetics were a powerful thing. She was far more like me than anyone else in her life.

“Whatever…” Another cough. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Lysette cried out in terror, and both of us turned our heads to see her being backed up to the wall. Hecate, illuminated in the light of the moon, was surrounded by a swirling mass of pure light and a void of darkness.

And she was between us… and my wife.

“Lysette! No!” I looked back to Beatrice, hating that I would be forced to rely on her. “If you’re not going to kill me, let’s save the beating for after we help Lysette.”

We needed backup. We needed help. Jules was still trying to make his way closer and failing, but there was one other person who could step in.

Where the hell was Siobhan?

“Mo Nathair,” I breathed, hoping she would feel me calling for her.

She was at my side in an instant, looking at me with a mix of concern and fury. I wasn’t even angry with her for going behind my back. For one, it made sure my children were safe, and for another… I needed her. More than I ever had, and I wanted her to know how much her loyalty over the years truly meant to me.

“If you care for me, if you ever cared for me, I need your help.” I reached up and cupped her face, and for the first time, it was genuine. “I never appreciated you the way I should have, and if we get through this, you’re free. In fact, I banish you from the Black Roses. I will buy you a house and a car… Whatever you need. We can work out a custody schedule later. I—”

Siobhan lunged forward and kissed me, startling me enough that I froze.

“Fuck’s sake. I’m standing right here,” Bea snapped. “And we don’t have time for this.”

But I only embraced Siobhan deeper, for the first time appreciating just how loyal she truly was. But unfortunately for her, loyalty—trust even—wasn’t the same as love. I had only ever loved one woman, and I was about to lose her if I couldn't act fast.

I looked to Siobhan to help me regain my footing, and my ribs ached from the results of Beatrice’s tantrum. I looked at my daughter, true resolution carrying my will. “We need more time.”

She nodded, her hatred for me drowned out by her fear for Lysette. Over her shoulder, she called out, “Julien, if you ever wanted to be fucking useful, now would be a great opportunity!”

He seemed to be in some kind of stupor, watching everything unfold, but her words brought him back to the present. I watched him raise his hand, swirling his finger in a small circle, ready to stop time and give us a chance to get Lysette to safety.

I wondered why the idiot hadn’t done it the second he walked in, but he always was a follower rather than a leader, and after nine years under my command, he’d learned rather well how to act only when told to.

But time didn’t stop. Instead, a grayish bubble surrounded him, blocking his magic. No, not gray… black and white swirling.

Hecate. She was giving everything she had to use her own power, and she was succeeding.

“You dare!” she shouted, turning and bearing down on him. “You dare to use my own gift against me?”

I moved forward, one, then two steps closer to Lysette, who tried to use Hecate’s moment of distraction to break free. But it wasn’t enough.

“Get under cover,” I shouted back to Siobhan. She nodded and teleported behind the bar, ducking down and waiting for another command.

I tried with every ounce of my life to reach for Lysette, and words she had once spoken to me echoed in my head.

“Let bad Éiren play just one more time. Please…”

And she was right. For the first time in my life, I was aware of everyone in the room, concerned that losing any of them could mean the downfall of us all.

But this wasn’t the time to become a family man. No… Lysette was right. It was time for brutality and power.

And I was more than motivated to supply.

If hell was real, there was no way it could hold a candle to what was happening.

It was a fucking hurricane of wind, sending all the pretentious shit in Éiren’s house flying around the room, making me dodge it all like a twisted game of Dark Magic Frogger.

Julien kept trying to break his way out of the orb he was trapped in, but each time he struck it, he was thrown backward, writhing in agony. Siobhan had fucked off to hide somewhere, and I couldn’t even be mad about it, because if I died here, she was the only one who could save my sisters.

“Over here, you impotent bitch!” I shouted at the Goddess, hoping to give Lysette time to reach Éiren—something I never thought would be a goal. But we could deal with whatever he deserved when we left here. Right now, I knew he was my best bet at keeping her alive. He might have been a piece of shit, but there was no way he would let anything happen to her, if he could help it.

As Hecate turned her fury toward me, I once more drew from the well of magic, my own and whatever I could pull from her without damaging my allies’ abilities to keep fighting. That huge, multicolored ball of force shot from my hands and toward the Goddess, who dodged it. It broke a massive hole in the wall—not that it mattered. The house was already fucked.

And her dodging it told me one very important thing.

She didn’t want to get hit by it.

Which meant she was vulnerable.

Éiren managed to reach my sister and pull her to her feet before putting her behind him. Then, he turned back to the fight, ready to play his part. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion I did, and we shared a quick look.

Fuck him for being right about us being alike, because it was as if our minds were working on the same frequency to form a plan that didn’t even need to be spoken.

“Hecate!” he shouted.

She looked at him, and he waved his fingers swiftly to the side, sending her several feet to the right before she managed to stop herself.

“You will not defeat me! You will fall before me like the insects you are!” she screamed, her power bursting from her in a wave and sending the three of us flying backward, Éiren wrapping himself around Lysette to keep her from being injured further.

I knelt on the floor, breathing hard, trying to get back to my feet to strike again, but then I noticed Hecate looking down at her hands, shocked.

Something was wrong. She’d obviously managed to affect us, but, given her words and her reaction, I had to assume she’d intended a killing blow and failed.

But why?

She glided like a wraith back toward Lysette and Éiren, who hadn’t yet managed to untangle themselves. I raised my hands, letting the blue-purple-black fire burst from them. I could feel the dark magic working along with my innate magic to make it happen, but I didn’t have the capacity to worry about that now. It was life and death, not just for me, but for Lysette.

I released the fire at the Goddess in succession, left hand, then right. She dodged the first, but the second caught her clothes, forcing her to stop and put out the fire, which gave Éiren and Lysette time to get to their feet. She was still wobbly, and Éiren once more put himself between her and the danger.

“You would use my own magic, my own twin flames, against me?” Hecate shrieked.

“My fire now,” I shot back, grinning at her.

Éiren glanced at me like he was impressed, which I hated to admit was weirdly validating. Guess my daddy issues went deeper than I thought. He raised his own hands, and a ball of hot-burning orange and blue flame appeared in each of his hands, different than either of my own towers of fire—innate or dark—but no less effective as he shot them at the Goddess.

She strafed sideways, avoiding the first, but unlike when I had attacked, the second didn’t hit. Instead, she caught it, letting it hover in the air before her. I watched in horror as it expanded, doubling in size, before she released it right at me.

It wasn’t my own fire or a natural one, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to withstand it the way I could if it was. I focused hard on the space behind Hecate, and with that increasingly familiar rush, I found myself behind her, staring at her back.

Both Éiren and Lysette took a step back in shock. I knew I’d have to explain how I not only had magic at all, but could use new powers I’d never had before when this was over.

But any anxiety I felt over the conversation was nothing compared to the idea of not being able to have it.

“Looking for me?” I called.

Hecate spun, turning her back on the others, and even as she held out her hand, ready to strike me, Éiren used the opportunity to send a blast of force her way. They launched in unison, and while Hecate pitched forward from Éiren’s attack, hers hit me…

Like a small blast of wind.

It barely affected me, but in my pocket, my destroyed ring burned against my skin through the fabric. I pulled it out while Hecate regrouped and saw it was glowing, not only with light, but with the same darkness I saw in Hecate and felt in myself, before absorbing all of it and going dull once more.

And then, I felt it. Clytius. His essence, dampening Hecate’s power, both in me, his descendant, and in the ring.

Hecate lied. The ritual had worked. This ring was the key, imbued with the remains and possessions of the being created to counter her.

I slipped it on my finger, holding it up so Éiren and Lysette could see. His eyes went wide, and he pulled, from his own pocket, the Ring of Hecate and put it on, the one created to contain her and her magic. It was a long shot, but maybe it would provide a similar sort of protection, especially for another of Clytius’s bloodline.

We’d both need it if we were going to defeat her, or at least wear her down until her power faded.

Hecate turned so she could hold out a hand in each direction, sending a swirling void toward each of us.

“You will not stop me from claiming my vessel!”

Vessel? What did she mean? I looked at Éiren, hoping he might have some kind of answer, and the perfunctory glance over his shoulder at Lysette was enough.

He’d said so, himself, so many times. He wanted Lysette to rule over witches, and the ring was how he’d planned to give her unlimited, absolute power. She was the vessel.

But if this was what he wanted, what he’d lied and deceived and killed for, why was he so frightened of it now?

Hecate’s attack hit, and this time, the ring only absorbed part of the blow. It was like being punched in the face, and the skin on my cheekbone split open, sending hot blood spilling down toward my jaw.

“You’re not claiming anyone,” Éiren shouted, holding a ball of fire in one hand and swiping his fingers to the side with the other, sending Hecate into a bookcase, where he shot the fireball.

“You would betray me!?” she screamed as his attack hit, scorching her skin.

“Turnabout’s fair play, my Goddess.” He sneered the words. “You should have known I’d never let you—” He seized up again, clutching his throat, but a second later, he gasped and smiled. “Looks like your power is running out, after all.”

I used her distraction to get closer, pulling my knife. If Clytius was made of iron, and iron was the bane of all witches, who bore Hecate’s power, I had to hope it would be able to work against her the same way.

As she summoned a ball of that same light-dark magic to send at Éiren, I rushed forward, aiming for the heart.

But she heard me coming, and my knife embedded itself, instead, in her shoulder.

She let out the unearthly cry of a banshee, and with it a wave of power so strong that not even the ring could stop me from being blown backward into a wall. A large picture of a rose broke under my weight, my knife clattering from my grip.

Blood dripped into my eyes from where I could feel shards of glass from the frame embedded in my scalp. The world twisted and turned, and I was sure I had a concussion. I tried to get to my feet and failed, collapsing back to the floor, where Hecate had turned away from my sister and Éiren and now began to approach me, ready to deal the killing blow.

Thankfully, Éiren was still standing, and when he saw I was down, he shifted his stance. His hands went wide, like someone about to hug a costumed character at a theme park. The wave of magic coming from him then was surreal, especially with my mind working in slow motion. The wind continued, but all the items that had been swirling around, trying to take us out, suddenly stopped and began a slow progression toward him.

I shut my eyes tightly, hoping I could force my mind and body back under my will, but I was hurt pretty badly. I began to heal myself as much as I could, but it was taking longer than I could afford.

I managed to open one single eye, just to gauge how much time I had left in my life, but it wasn’t the Goddess I noticed.

It was what was happening behind her.

Éiren had amassed a ball the size of a recliner, made of all the debris he’d collected. He gave me the slightest wink before the whole thing began to glow, and he released it like a baseball player throwing the first pitch of the season.

What a cocky shit.

Hecate screamed as it hit her, and for the first time, cracks began to show—literally. She wasn’t bleeding, but her skin had split into a pattern like lightning bolts, and pure darkness, just like Lysette’s morte, began to seep through.

“You… will… pay… for… this…” she growled, right before she waved her hand, and a piece of the marble wall, almost as big as a car, soared at Éiren and Lysette. He barely had time to reach out like he was catching something out of the air to launch a barstool at Hecate before he turned, protecting my sister with his own body from the attack, which crashed down on them, splitting into pieces.

My heart pumped even harder, painful against my ribs, some of which I was sure were broken. “Lysette…” I tried to scream, but it was barely audible, even to my own ears.

Another huge crack! split the night, and I watched as Hecate waved her hand to fling the half-shattered wall to the side, along with Éiren. The Goddess was closing in on Lysette, Éiren still reeling from the attack, unable to stop her, and Lysette weakly scrambled backward on her hands to get away.

A whimpering sound drew my attention away for a second, and I looked to see Siobhan, still here and hiding behind the bar. I’d hoped she was somewhere else, not in the thick of things, so she could get Aster and Róisín to safety, but her unwillingness to leave Éiren had led her to a deeply stupid decision.

But even as our eyes met, she glanced away and at the floor. My knife had made it across the room and was now right in front of Siobhan. She looked at me with a grim determination and reached for it. She stood, knife in hand, and walked toward me.

This was it. The moment I’d feared. She was going to turn on me, kill me. Probably Lysette, too, unless Hecate got there first. She’d have what she always wanted, Éiren all to herself.

And I was too weak to stop it.

She knelt down at my side, but instead of the burn of iron, I felt her breath on my ear.

“Get them out,” she whispered.

I looked up at her in shock. She wasn’t going to kill me.

She was going to risk herself to stop Hecate.

Siobhan disappeared, reappearing silently right behind the Goddess, crouching low, as if it would help keep her hidden. I blinked away a fresh pulse of blood, wanting—needing—to see what happened next.

And by every god who ever existed, I wished I hadn’t.

My ears were ringing, and I knew nothing in the world right now other than the fact that I had shielded Lysette with my body, and I was able to look into those beautiful olive green eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I cooed, sweat and blood dripping from my face.

“Éiren…” she said, her face drawn in pain and fear. “I love you. I’ve always loved you, I—”

“Stop. Stop, now. This isn't the end. We’re going to get through this. We always get through it. Do you remember during the Revolutionary War?”

“I don’t think a cannon wielded by a handful of borderline children is the same as an angry goddess.”

“No?” I reached down and brushed some debris from her cheeks, the weight of the stone piled on top of me causing me to pant from the effort of holding it up, especially with several broken ribs. “Well… then I suppose right now is a perfect time for me to apologize. I was stupid and wrong and hurtful. I was a cheat and a liar and a murderer. I did horrible things and called it my love for you. Which is why—”

I didn’t get to finish, because the burden on my back was lifted a second before I was flung to the side. Not with the same force as before, since Hecate was weakening, especially after Beatrice’s attack with the knife, but far enough to clear a path between her and Lysette.

Lysette pushed herself up to sitting and began to scramble back, her own injuries keeping her from doing more. And it wasn’t just her physical state that worried me. Her magic was weak, too, and I wondered how much of that was from her healing herself in the hospital and how much was a result of Hecate putting a stopper on it.

I struggled to get up. It felt like my ankle might be broken, and my head was fuzzy from the multiple times the Goddess cut off blood flow and from the impacts of her attacks. I collapsed to my knees over and over, unable to reach Lysette.

Jules continued to rail and scream in French as he sent wave after wave of power at the barrier, only to have the attacks reflected back on him.

But even without him, we weren’t alone. With a small start, I watched as Siobhan appeared behind Hecate, Beatrice’s favorite knife glinting in her hand. She crouched low with a look at me of sorrow.

“Mo Nahair…” I breathed.

My serpent in the grass, ready to strike.

A sense of victory coursed through me. My loyal acolyte, never wavering, was going to be our salvation.

It all happened in slow motion.

Siobhan grunted as she began to position the knife, seeking its target.

Lysette gasped, realizing she was saved—by Siobhan, of all people.

I let out a slight laugh of joy.

And Hecate… Hecate heard me.

Her head snapped to the side, and, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the movement of Siobhan trying to attack her from behind.

“You wretch,” Hecate hissed, but there was amusement rather than malice in it, and fear pulsed within me once more. A crazed look crossed the dark features of the Goddess, and she looked straight at me as Siobhan brought down the knife.

You lose.

And then she was gone.

In the blink of an eye, Hecate vanished, and Siobhan windmilled, pitching forward.

“No!” I screamed, scrambling forward despite knowing I was too far, too slow, powerless to stop it. Stop her.

Siobhan fell, and the knife, still tightly clutched in her grasp, fell with her.

I was only three feet away, but it might as well have been a mile as I watched the knife plunge deep into Lysette’s throat, Siobhan collapsing on top of her. The blade was wrenched free with the force of Siobhan’s fall, and blood spurted from Lysette’s wound, cascading down her chest and from her mouth, bubbling like a potion in a cauldron as she failed to draw breath.

I heard a loud crack and watched Siobhan fall to the floor, eyes already glassy, her neck broken. Had I done that? Lashed out unconsciously when, accident or no, she’d hurt Lysette? Or was it Hecate, destroying Siobhan for even attempting to kill her?

I didn’t know. All I knew as I looked down at my wife, my soulmate, my everything, bleeding out, was how futile it was. Her wound, the deep gash across her beautiful neck, wasn’t just a cut that could be fixed with a wave of a hand.

It was made with Beatrice’s knife. An iron knife.

Certain death.

The knife penetrating me didn’t hurt as badly as falling onto the nail-filled and splintered wood, but as soon as it did, I knew it was over.

“Lysette!”

Bea’s voice sounded so far away, even though I felt her hands on me, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

“Heal her!” Éiren shouted, pulling me off of the wreckage and into his lap. “It’s fine, Rosie, just breathe.”

He was in denial. Merde. Shock had started to set in for them, and I’d have to watch them realize this… this was endgame for me.

I was dying.

“I’m fucking trying!” Bea was sobbing.

“No!” Julien joined them, whatever force field Hecate created having vanished with her. He dropped to my side with the others, his eyes filling with tears as he reached for my hand the way we’d done for Father.

“Stop time,” Bea said urgently to him. “Give me time to fix this, for the iron to stop working.”

“It’s not working,” he sobbed. “My magic… it’s spent. I can’t…”

They clearly didn’t see my light and dark magic leaving my body at a tragic rate the way I could. They would have known if they did.

The room got colder, and I knew I had minutes, maybe only seconds, to communicate what I needed to. I looked up at Éiren, who was sobbing like a bullied school boy, words failing to form as his tears coated everything.

I loved him—mon dieu, I loved him. I had no idea what was coming for me, but I hoped I’d see him again.

“Rosie,” he managed to choke out.

Then my eyes went to Jules, who was barely better off, though a look of panic laced his sorrow. “Lysette,” he whimpered. “Please… Bea, do something!”

I looked to my sister to find her, the calmest of them all. She already understood what they didn’t. The effects of the iron would fade in time, but it was time I didn’t have.

“I can’t,” she said, gripping my hand in hers. I was slipping away, her touch feeling like it was through ten layers of fabric. “Lys… I can’t… I don’t know how to do this without you.” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “I need you. Aster needs you. Please, find a way to…” She broke off. She knew there was nothing to be done, and begging me wouldn’t change a thing. “You’re not alone, Lys. We’re all here with you. I love you. You first. Us first.” Our pledge to each other, even now. I knew she loved me, and I loved her. I could only hope she knew how much.

Along with their hands, I could feel each of their individual magics hovering, waiting for me. And I finally understood.

We were the magic.

The flesh that encased us was merely a vessel for the light and dark that were remnants of the gods themselves—Hecate being one. This wasn’t about me or us, it was about something so much greater. The Goddess was taking back her gift, just like she’d said, and not one of them could stop her.

I could feel my last breaths, staggered and rough, and I took the last ounce of my light magic to form a small, white, glittering ball of my power. From there, I shaped it, willing it to appear the way I needed it to. To help me when I no longer had speech.

A tiny, magic bumblebee fluttered out of my hand and landed on Bea’s nose, dissipating as it touched her.

And then—

She was dead.

Lysette… my wife… my Rosie… was dead.

I had no reason to live anymore.

My ears began to ring as the world around me descended into chaos, though no one moved an inch.

An unearthly bellow rang through the room, reverberating off the marble and exposed steel, and it took me a minute to realize it was me. The pain, the absolute, inescapable agony of holding the woman I would have done anything for in my arms, dead, was unbearable.

“No,” I moaned from the deepest depths of my anguish. I pulled Lysette against me tighter, holding her head up to my shoulder, where she used to rest so often, and stroking her hair. “We will be together forever, my Ro…”

I couldn’t even finish. It was like someone had torn every piece of me to shreds and was killing me over and over again.

When did I last say I loved her?

What did a world without her even look like?

I wanted to dig my own heart out of my chest and place it into hers, willing my love to bring her back. “Oh, Lysette…” I groaned in agony as her blood covered my palms. “My Rosie.”

Somewhere in the background, I could hear the others sobbing too, but it was barely noticeable past the wall of fiery pain consuming me, dragging me to the depths of hell that would be my life from this moment on.

But it didn’t have to be.

“Lysette,” I whispered. “Only a moment.”

Then, I did something I hadn’t done for hundreds of years. I folded my hands and prayed.

Not to any gods, no—I couldn’t have given a fuck about help from any of them—but to Dáire.

“My prince,” I begged. “Keep her safe while I journey to you both. Hold her like you once held me. I’ll see you soon.”

I got to my feet and stood, looking around for the knife. I spotted it about ten feet away, laying beside where Siobhan’s broken body, her beautiful neck, was snapped.

I paused, looking at her, wishing I’d never met her. Not for my sake, but hers.

“I’m so sorry, Siobhan Diane Cooke,” I said, kneeling beside her for just a moment and pushing her hair out of her face so I could kiss her cheek. “You were always better than what I made you be.”

Then, I slowly picked up the knife, weighing my options.

As I took a deep, shuddering breath, I extended my whole arm to my left and used my magic to lift Lysette’s body into the air, pulling it to me and dropping her into my arms.

Beatrice’s voice echoed around me as she asked, “What are you doing?” But I couldn’t be bothered to answer. No, this moment was ours. Mine… and my Lysette’s.

Before either of them could stop me, I struck. As though I was trying to reenact a Shakespeare tragedy, I took Beatrice’s favorite knife and plunged it deep into my chest. The force behind the blow staggered me, sending me to the ground.

“What the fuck?!” Her voice came again, this time with a frightened scream.

I gasped as I began to bleed, but my heart still pounded, desperate to keep beating. It wasn’t fast enough.

So, I looked at my eldest daughter straight on, studying her and all the ways she truly was like me, and instead, to my surprise, found Lysette there. Her posture, her thoughtful expression, the way her shoulders squared as she tried to figure out what to do.

Good, I thought. She will need all the Lysette she can get to manage this.

And then I drew her beloved blade, the one I’d nearly killed her with almost ten years ago, in the same motion.

Across my own throat.

She was gone.

Lysette was gone.

And Éiren…

He bled out before I could even move. The knife I’d tried so many times to get in him, finally achieving its purpose.

I gasped through my tears, barely able to stand or breathe. Three bodies lay before me, each one lost to Hecate’s wrath and greed.

I screamed, making my way to Lysette, where she lay still beside Éiren, joined at last in death. I hoped, for her sake, they would find each other. That he could be better in the afterlife, without the temptations of the world to corrupt him.

I pulled her into my lap, continuing to wail with grief. How was I going to tell Aster? How could I ever explain to her that her mother was gone? What could I possibly say to save her the pain of knowing how it happened?

The world felt like it was shaking beneath me for the force of my pain. Lysette had been the mother I needed when my own was taken from me and the sister I never knew was missing ever since. I’d never loved anyone as much as I loved her, not my own mother, not Julien.

Well, there was someone. Aster. Which was why I knew I had to keep going. It’s what Lysette would have wanted, why she gave me guardianship. She trusted me when no one else did, saw in me something I couldn’t even see in myself.

And now… I’d have to find a way to live without her.

“Bea…”

Julien’s voice was low, but I didn’t listen. Whatever he had to say, it didn’t matter. Nothing he could say would bring Lysette back, and if he hadn’t betrayed us, this never would have happened.

Even blaming him felt hollow, though. I could just as easily say it was Lysette’s own fault for giving Éiren chance after chance. I could say it was Éiren’s, for his power lust and stupidity. Siobhan’s, for aiding and abetting each of his crimes.

Mine, for being hotheaded and foolhardy and stubborn.

We all made choices, every single one of us, and three of us paid the ultimate price for those decisions.

“Bea…” Julien said again, his voice a bit firmer. I was sure he wanted his own chance to hold her, to mourn her, but I wasn’t ready to let go.

“Not now,” I said, feeling the ground tremble again with the intensity of my agony. My magic was an uncontrolled force, ready to strike at any new threat, and Julien’s insistence was going to push me over the edge.

“Bea!” he all but shouted, and I finally turned to look at him, ready to lay into him for disturbing this moment, the last time I would hold my sister.

He wasn’t even looking at me. He was looking around at the remains of the house, at the walls, which were barely standing, and at the rattling, shaking pieces of wood and stone, the broken bottles, the books and furniture on the floor, which all seemed to be moving closer to me.

I tried to shut off the flow of power but quickly realized…

This wasn’t me. I wasn’t making this happen.

It was her.

Hecate.

She was gone, but her power remained, and it was quickly creating a vortex—a black hole of magic and mass.

“Shit,” I breathed, looking down at Lysette, who had some sort of black plasma streaming through her lips.

Morte…

Was she alive?!

No. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t her magic. I would know that poison anywhere, and this wasn’t it. She was gone, but I didn’t want to leave her here. I couldn’t. Not like the kid in the woods. I needed to put her to rest the way she deserved.

“We have to go,” Julien said, reaching for me, but I moved my arm out of the way.

“Not yet.” I tried to get to my feet, but with the adrenaline of the fight gone, my injuries were too much. I crashed back to the floor, only barely avoiding a piece of marble which soared past my head. It landed with a massive crack near Éiren, followed by another, and another.

“Now, Bea!” Julien shouted, right as everything went from a slow convalescence to a storm of debris, and whatever that darkness was continued to grow, forcing its way into my sister, the epicenter of this confluence.

A piece of broken glass sliced into his cheek right as a book bounced off my already injured—likely dislocated—shoulder. I cried out as another piece of wreckage hit me in the back, and it was only then that everything stopped.

I lay atop Lysette, panting, her blood soaking through my clothes. At least it stopped, and I could have a moment to get myself and Lysette’s body out.

“Come on,” Julien said gruffly, grabbing me and lifting me into his arms—away from Lysette.

“No!” I said, writhing, trying to get away. “We need to bring her, we need to—”

“We can’t,” he said, already running for the door. “I can’t hold it for long—seconds, if that. I used too much trying to get out of that damn bubble.”

Hold it?

I glanced around, my entire being bouncing with his footsteps, and that was when I realized that the magic hadn’t stopped—time had. The house was crumbling to nothing, every single piece on a trajectory to cover the bodies left behind.

We’d barely cleared the door when I felt him release his hold on time. He wavered, the vortex once more trying to pull him in along with everything else, but he didn’t stop. He kept pushing, sweat and tears mingling on his face with his grief and the effort, until we escaped it, and we both went tumbling into the grass.

I watched in horror as the entire place, all at once, cracked and crumbled, closing in on what was left of my sister and the other two people who’d fallen victim to the Goddess.

“No!” I screamed, reaching for Lysette, knowing I couldn’t get to her.

She was gone. I knew it didn’t really matter whether I could bury her properly or not. But it felt like my closure, my ability to say goodbye the way I needed to, had been ripped away.

“Come on,” Julien said, reaching for me again. “I heard you say Aster and Róisín are somewhere safe. We need to get them and get away from here before cops show up. There’s no way no one noticed a house imploding.”

The second his hand made contact with mine, I looked up at him. “Do not… fucking… touch me.”

He pulled away like he’d been burned by my fire, even though I lacked the strength to summon it.

“Back up.”

He took two steps away, with a look of confusion that swiftly turned into one of realization, wonder, and horror all at once.

“You…”

“Me, what?” I snarled, trying once more to get to my feet and failing, but he didn’t come any closer.

“You just… gave me a command.”

“Damn right, I did. You don’t—” I froze as the gravity of what he was saying came crashing down on me like the rubble we’d just escaped.

Julien hadn’t listened to me because he was being respectful. He listened because I’d given him an order, an official command. One he would have no choice to obey…

Because it came from his coven master.

The bee…

I hadn’t even considered the future of the Circle of the White Orchid until this very moment, but now that I did, it became perfectly clear.

She couldn’t speak, not with what happened to her. Lysette used the last bit of her magic, of her life, to pass the coven to me, using an homage to my childhood nickname.

Bumble-Bea.

I looked at Julien, half-fearing his reaction. He’d been willing to let us all die for the sake of claiming the White Orchid as his own once, and I was down, injured. I would have no chance of fighting back if he decided to finally take it.

Instead, he looked at me with nothing but sadness and grief and said, “May I?” He held out a hand to me, waiting to approach until he had permission.

I glared at his hand, still not trusting or forgiving him. But if he was obeying my commands, I knew he was loyal—at least for now.

“Fine,” I said, and he moved to my side to help me to my feet. I was still unsteady, and he tried to pick me up again, but I shut him down. “No. Just… help me stand.”

He nodded and pulled my arm over his shoulder, then looked back at the latest wreckage of our lives before meeting my eyes again.

“So… where to?”

“Well, first thing’s first. You and me… we just became the guardians of two young witches.”

He looked at me, stricken. It was clear he hadn’t even considered it as a possibility.

I took a shaking breath, fighting back another fresh wave of tears. “We need to get them out.”

“Éiren…” Lysette’s songbird-esque voice said from far away. “Éiren…”

I tried to open my eyes, but it was hard, and the light was so bright. Perhaps I could sleep for just a few more minutes.

“E’in,” came a second voice. “Get up ye lazy sack of shite.”

Dáire…

I sat up with a start to find myself in a field of heather, my clothing of Dáire’s time but with Lysette’s ring on my hand. Across from me, they both sat, staring at me and giggling to each other, and I took a moment to study each of them.

Lysette looked whole, and not just in one piece, but happy, fresh, relaxed. She wore a beautiful white shift with bare feet, and her hair blew softly in the wind.

Dáire, on the other hand, couldn’t have looked more disheveled if he’d tried, which had always been my favorite way to see him.

“Is this…?” I stammered. “Is this real?”

Dáire grinned at me. “Does it matter?”

God, it felt good to hear a proper brogue again, knowing how foreign and American I must sound, myself.

Lysette got to her feet and walked through the grass to me, flopping down in my lap and leaning her head on my chest.

“Rosie…” I gasped, having already forgotten what the weight of her felt like against me.

“It’s alright now,” she whispered, Dáire creeping closer to be included in the conversation. “They’re fine. You are fine. We’re here. Together.”

I looked to my handsome lover who nodded, then back to my wife.

“You two already got to know each other, I see.”

“Oh, yes.” Lysette grinned back at Dáire, and he winked. “We’ve been chatting away about you and your ridiculous feet.”

I looked down to find them bare and wiggled my toes against the grass. “What’s wrong with my feet?” I chuckled, feeling the fear and uncertainty dissipate by the second.

“You know,” Dáire smirked, placing a hand on my shoulder. “How yer toes go all wobbly and ar fud.”

I kicked him in the shin playfully, making him laugh, before laying back against the cool green, Lysette falling with me.

“It smells good here,” I commented, looking at the cloudy blue sky.

“'Course it does,” Dáire laughed. “It’s not a feckin’ stable.”

“Or that house,” Lysette said, wrinkling her nose. “It really did smell—”

I put my back to Dáire and kissed her, pushing her into the grass and hovering over her. I was finally free. I deepened it, thinking about how this, being in her arms, had always been my perfect place, and wondered why, for the life of me, this hadn’t been enough to begin with.

Dáire came up beside us, and I turned my head to accept a kiss from him, too. It was warm and rich-tasting, like beer. And it was rough. The exact opposite of Lysette, whose lips were delicate, though not weak, with the taste of her skin and the slow, desperate rhythm we always fell into.

“I knew this was the right choice…” I said, looking at both of them.

They smiled, leaning toward me to take me in both their arms…

But suddenly, they were gone. Both of them, in an instant. Thunder crashed, and a light rain began to fall, slowly getting heavier by the minute until it was a downpour.

And then the pulling began.

Once again, agony, like being drawn and quartered, ripped through me with reckless vengeance. All I could think about was how I was foolish to think I’d be allowed to have heaven when I’d done the things I had, but then—

“Wake up,” a cold voice sneered at me.

I once again forced my eyes open to find the sun shining down, directly into my vision.

“Dáire?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not,” the familiar female voice replied. Of course, it wasn’t him. “On your feet.”

I knew that tone.

Beatrice.

Oh, why was I welcomed to heaven, only to be dropped back into this hell?

But the truth was, I had no idea what I had gotten myself into until I fully sat up.

“Lysette?” I gasped, my wife standing before me, her entire posture wholly unlike herself. “Were we both returned to our bodies? Oh, God, Lysette,” I started, rushing to my feet and toward her, barely aware of my lack of injuries. “I thought—”

“You fool… Weren’t you listening all this time?”

No…

“I told you I was going to have her, and I did. I can only assume you saw a glimpse of your afterlife. It took me several hours to revive you, Clytius…”

“No!” I nearly tripped as I backed away, looking around for an exit. But there was none. Whatever was left standing had turned into a ruin, jagged chunks of wood and steel and rock all around me, preventing my escape. “No…”

“Yes. I’m not finished with you just yet,” she said malevolently. “And now…”

Hecate, wearing the face of my wife, took a few, graceful steps toward me, clutching my chin in the hands I once loved. I couldn’t bear to meet her eyes now, but she jerked my face to force it. The soft, kind olive eyes I’d stared into for centuries were gone, replaced with two black, shining, obsidian orbs.

Cold, cruel.

Chaotic.

“You will always be mine.”

And isn’t that just what you wanted…?

About the Authors

Chase Tyler Kyle St. Clare stands out as a multifaceted creative force, expertly merging his skills as a photographer and a ghostwriter for the renowned Finch Benson. His artistic vision, deeply influenced by the complexities of identity and celebrity, often finds expression in his contemplations about being or being with pop icon Troye Sivan.

In his personal life, Chase, who is openly bisexual, shares his journey with his partner, author August Oliver. Their relationship, steeped in mutual respect and creative synergy, is a testament to their shared dedication to literature and the arts.

August Oliver has carved a niche for himself in the literary world by crafting stories that embrace classic tropes with queer characters, ensuring they are represented authentically without being fetishized. His profound love for fantasy and paranormal genres has been a significant source of inspiration for his diverse and compelling characters.

When he's not immersed in the world of writing, August enjoys spending quality time with his partner, Chase. Together, they explore various interests, including traveling to new destinations, indulging in video games, and experiencing the excitement of live concerts.

Eleanor Rose is an emerging author in the fantasy genre, known for dynamic storytelling and the prominent inclusion of queer couples in her narratives. Her commitment to authentic representation is not just limited to her novels; she is also a vocal advocate for accurate portrayals of transgender individuals and those living with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD).

Eleanor's passion for travel, particularly her explorations across the diverse cultures and landscapes of Europe, greatly influences her writing. These experiences infuse her work with rich descriptions and varied perspectives, adding depth and authenticity to her narratives.