Rebel Reborn (The Witch's Rebels Book 6)

by Sarah Piper

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I said gently, “How did they get to you?”

  “I’d been living there just over a year by then—it was the first place I’d landed after leaving North Carolina, and I’d fallen in love with it immediately. It had the small-town, artsy vibe I’d always wanted, and the people were so friendly and open. I found work right away, waitressing in a place that catered mostly to witches. I’d recently started dating, and saving for my own place. I thought I wanted to set down roots, you know? I still wasn’t sure why I’d felt called to move there, but at that point I was happy to roll with it, trusting that when the time was right, all would be revealed. But then things started getting weird.”

  “Weird how?” I asked

  “A few of my regulars—they’d started acting kind of paranoid. At least, that’s how I saw it at the time. Whispering about old hunter conspiracies, and witches being murdered in their beds… I… Sorry, Gray. I didn’t mean…” Her cheeks darkened, and when she met my eyes again, her own were full of compassion. “I know they weren’t rumors after all, but at the time, no one had heard from the hunters in decades. It all seemed a little far-fetched—like everyone had heard it from a friend of a cousin of an ex-husband, but no one had any firsthand info.

  “The vamps and shifters,” she continued, “who normally stayed pretty sequestered in their own territories, started getting into skirmishes. One night a family of lynx shifters was slaughtered in their home, little kids and everything, and their whole community blamed the vampires. After that, things started going downhill fast. My restaurant shut down, and I was laid off. I was in shock, literally wandering the streets with my head hung, wondering what my next move was going to be. I swear—the second the question was in my mind, I felt it.”

  “Felt what?” I asked. I’d long since given up on chopping. Haley and I, along with the other witches in the kitchen, were all riveted by the story.

  Sadly, I was pretty sure a lot of them had similar tales to tell.

  “That foreboding. Like when every hair on your body stands on end, and your heart just starts banging away for no reason. I reached in my bag for my mace, but by then, someone was already on top of me, jamming in the needle.” She closed her eyes, a full-on shiver working its way through her body. I could sense the uptick of her heartbeat, the adrenaline spiking through her blood as remembered panic set in. “I woke up in a cell. You can pretty much figure out what happened next.”

  It was a good thing I’d already set down the bottle of herbs I’d been working with, because I was pretty sure anything in my hands would’ve shattered in that moment.

  “Addie,” I said softly, forcing myself to keep my voice calm. Gentle. For my sister’s sake. For the sake of every witch in the room who’d gone through the same impossible hell. “You’re safe here. All of you are safe here. And I promise you, we’re going to kill every last one of those motherfuckers if I have to tear their throats out myself.”

  I was shaking with rage, so consumed by it that I didn’t even notice Haley standing in front of me until she reached out and grabbed my arm. “Gray? Take this. Please.”

  I blinked back to reality, taking the steaming mug from her outstretched hand. Closing my eyes, I took a second to dial it down, then managed a tight smile. “I appreciate the effort, but I don’t think Merry Mint is going to do the trick this time.”

  “This brew is.” She winked at me. “My own special blend. I call it Vampire’s Delight.”

  I brought it to my nose, inhaling the scent. I smelled the mint first, then a subtle pinch of dried hawthorn—nothing that would knock me out, just strong enough to blunt my sharp edges—finished with a spoonful of O-positive. I sipped it slowly, forcing myself to relax.

  “Thank you,” I said. “That’s actually… really good.”

  “Told you.” She handed a mug to Addie. “This is straight-up honey lavender. No blood, unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

  Addie laughed, happily wrapping her hands around the mug. “I think I’ll stick with the honey-lavender, thanks.”

  We sipped our tea and got back to work, giving Addie a few moments to gather her thoughts. Whatever she’d gone through, it was clear this was the first time she was talking about it out loud, and I knew this was only the very first crack. Eventually, that crack would turn into a fissure, and all hell would break loose.

  The difference now was that she wouldn’t have to go through it alone. Not anymore.

  After a few moments of companionable silence, Haley turned the conversation toward our other sister. “How do you guys think Georgie got tangled up with Trinity when the rest of us managed to stay under her radar?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m guessing Trinity found her somehow. Maybe that’s how this whole thing got started. Now that we know she’s involved with the Fae Council, we can connect her to Orendiel and the hunters. So it’s possible that Trinity found out that we were still alive, and set the wheels of her plan in motion.”

  “But why would she track down Georgie and not the rest of us?” Addie asked.

  “Maybe she’s still looking for us,” Haley said.

  That thought sent a shiver down my spine, but there was no room for fear. I grabbed Verona’s instruction list, scanning for the next batch of poisons. If and when Trinity came for us, we’d be ready for her.

  “You guys said that we were all called to the Bay,” Addie said. “That we sensed each other somehow.”

  “That’s what Deirdre thinks,” I said.

  Addie capped off another one of her bottles. “Do you think Georgie senses us, too? What if she’s trying to get back to us, and Trinity’s holding her hostage?”

  “We can’t assume Georgie is a hostage,” I said. “For all we know, she and Trinity are working together.” I hated myself for saying it, but someone had to. The girl we’d seen in our vision during the blood spell hadn’t looked like a hostage to me.

  Haley looked up from her bowl of herbs, glaring at me across the counter. “Do you actually think our sister is evil?”

  “I’m not saying she’s evil, Hay. But we can’t know her motivations. She might not realize what’s going on. Our mother may have twisted everything, manipulated her into doing her bidding.”

  “She’s not a child, Gray,” Haley said. “She’s a grown woman.”

  “That doesn’t mean she couldn’t be misled or manipulated or threatened,” I said. “All we know is that she’s working with Trinity. We have no idea what her situation is, but at the end of the day—”

  “God, I hate that phrase,” Haley said. “At the end of the day? We’re talking about right now, Gray. Our sister is in trouble, and you want to sentence her before we’ve even—”

  “I think what Gray is trying to say,” Addie said gently, reaching out to touch Haley’s hand, “is that even if Georgie isn’t evil, she’s still fighting on the wrong side, whether she realizes it or not.”

  “Thank you,” I said, blowing out a breath. “That’s all I—”

  “And,” she went on, cutting me off with a kind smile, “I think Haley is trying to remind us that no matter whose team Georgie is on, she’s still our sister, and we owe it to her to give her the benefit of the doubt. To try to help her, just like you guys helped me. Just like you’re helping each other.”

  I looked into Addie’s eyes, my momentary annoyance at Haley floating away.

  Haley sighed. “Addie’s right. Look, Gray, the last thing I want to do is fight with you.”

  “Same,” I admitted. “I get what you’re saying about Georgie.”

  “And I get what you’re saying,” Haley said. “I think we just… We can’t make assumptions either way. But we also can’t abandon her without trying to figure it out.

  “Agreed,” I said, and Addie smiled.

  “Guys,” she said, “I think I just broke up my first sister fight.”

  I nudged her in the ribs. “Don’t let it go to your head just yet.”

 
; Magical or not, I was starting to think that her gifts went well beyond foresight. Addie was a natural peacemaker.

  “So where do we go from here?” I asked.

  Both of my sisters opened their mouths to respond, but the voice that reached my ears wasn’t from either of them.

  It was the dark, deadly, deep-fried twang of the only man I hated worse than the hunters.

  “I’ll tell you where you’re not going, Miss Desario,” Sebastian drawled. “How about we start there?”

  With fire in his eyes, he snapped his fingers, and every witch in the kitchen disappeared.

  Twelve

  GRAY

  Instinct took over.

  In a blur of movement, I grabbed my knife and leaped over the counter, lunging for him, fangs and blade bared.

  But even with my vamp speed, I was no match for the prince of hell. A single raised hand, and I slammed into an invisible wall, my knife clattering to the floor.

  I scrambled to my feet. “What have you done with them?”

  “Relax,” he said. “I’ve safely relocated them to another part of the lodge, where they will remain, none the wiser, so long as you give me the right answers.”

  “I’m not answering anything until I know for sure they’re safe.”

  His eyes turned completely red, the vein at his temple throbbing with barely-contained rage. “I’m sorry, bloodsucker. Have I given you the impression that you’re in any position to negotiate?”

  I backed off, but I didn’t back down. I had no idea how he’d found out about my vampire transition, but now that he had, I had to play this very carefully.

  “What can I do for you, prince?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

  “See? Civility. That’s much better.” Patting his stomach, he glanced around the kitchen, his eyes returning to normal. “I suppose I can’t expect hospitality, though. What have you got to drink in this dreadful establishment?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Never mind. I’ll help myself.” He rummaged through the cupboards, locating the liquor stash and pouring himself a generous glass of bourbon. Gesturing to the table at the other side of the kitchen, he said, “Sit.”

  It wasn’t a request.

  I did as he asked, and he took the chair across from me, eyeing me up as he sipped the bourbon. I couldn’t read his thoughts, and didn’t dare try to influence them, lest he sense my interference. But one thing was clear—Sebastian had a lot on his mind.

  “Let’s get one thing clear before we proceed.” He set the glass on the table, locking me in his frightening glare. “The fact that you are at present a soulless monster does not negate our deal. Soul or not, you will find a way to do as I demand, per the rules of your contract.”

  I waited a beat. Two. Three. Then, “The contract is for my soul, Sebastian. Which, as you can see, is long gone. I’m not sure we have anything left to—”

  He snapped his fingers again, and my throat constricted. It was as if I were being choked by an invisible hand. No, I didn’t need oxygen, but I needed my windpipe intact.

  “I think we’re well past semantics, Miss Desario.” He lifted the glass to his lips, watching with pure amusement as I clawed at my own throat, my eyes bulging. Saliva pooled in the corners of my mouth, my neck about five seconds from snapping in two, and still he drawled on. “I own you, just as I own Ronan. Body, mind, soul, blood, bones. I own those sharp and shiny new fangs of yours. I own those curls that probably drive the boys wild. I own your heart, your smile, your eyeballs. I own the soles of your feet. I own your fingerprints. I even own your thoughts.”

  He took another long sip, then set the glass down, finally releasing his choke-hold.

  I coughed, rubbing my throat, glaring daggers at him.

  He was full of shit. Sebastian was nothing if not a stickler for details—his entire organization was predicated on it. My contract was specific—my soul was promised to him. Nothing else.

  “So you can see why attempting to avoid your fate is not only futile,” he said, full of the kind of confidence that could only be achieved by the truly mediocre, “but extremely dangerous.”

  I nodded, deciding to play along for now.

  “At any rate,” he blathered on, “the task I’ve set for you doesn’t require the presence of your soul, per se. Only your magic.”

  The lodge had fallen silent, save for the wheezing of his breath. I couldn’t even hear the ocean outside. He’d truly sealed us in a bubble.

  And he still hadn’t told me what he wanted, or why he’d shown up at all. He liked keeping me off balance, that was for sure.

  Maybe it was time to throw him off balance instead.

  “I know it’s not my ancestors you’re really after,” I said.

  “You know nothing.”

  “You sure about that?”

  He waved away my words with a swat of his fat hand, but I saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes. He was playing games, as usual.

  “Tell me what you want with Trinity O’Leary,” I said, point blank.

  The name itself was like a spell, unleashing all his pent-up rage. He slammed his glass onto the table, shattering it and slicing his hand open in the process. My eyes widened at the sight of his crimson blood, but the scent that followed was rotten, a stench so foul it made my stomach turn.

  “I’ve told you once before, and this is the last time I’ll say it,” he warned. “Ronan and the other strays you’ve picked up along the way may be lining up to lick your boots, but you do not dictate orders to me. I’ll reveal information to you if and when it’s pertinent. Is that clear, witch?”

  I glared at him, saying nothing.

  “Is that clear?” he shouted, this time flipping the table between us. His eyes had gone back to red, his voice shaking.

  Whatever my birthmother had done, her betrayal had cut deep. That much was clear.

  But Sebastian’s outbursts wouldn’t scare me off—not this time. Despite his show of force and the choke-hold he’d sprung on me earlier, Sebastian’s power over me wasn’t physical. Deep down I knew he wouldn’t break me. Scare me, yes. Hurt me, sure. But break me? Not a chance.

  He needed me in one piece. He needed me willing. My magic wouldn’t work without my intent, and my intent could not be faked.

  I’d gotten him riled up, off-kilter, and unfocused. I had to press my advantage with him, however small it might be.

  I decided to call his bluff.

  “I know she bailed on her deal,” I said, “but so do lots of people. You can’t honestly tell me you’d invest all this energy into tracking down one nearly-powerless witch, especially when you’ve got the Silversbane heir on the payroll now.”

  Sebastian closed his eyes and bowed his head, folding his hands in his lap as though he were the picture of self-control. But without the table between us, I could see his legs now, the anxious bounce of his knee.

  Again, I wished I could read his thoughts.

  “Who made the deal for my soul?” I asked, certain it was all connected. My mother, my legacy, Sebastian’s obsession with me. How could it not be?

  “How could someone make a deal for a soul that wasn’t theirs?” I pressed. “And why were you so willing to accept it?” Then, in a voice that came out much softer than I’d planned, “Why am I so important to you?”

  Sebastian sighed. After what felt like an hour, he finally met my eyes again. He seemed to be taking a measure of me, and I forced myself not to fidget.

  For the first time in our strange, antagonistic relationship, I swore I saw a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.

  “The answer to each of those questions,” he finally said, all his earlier rage gone, “is a long, complicated story.”

  “You’ve got a captive audience and all the time in the world,” I said.

  Ignoring this, Sebastian rose from the chair and righted the table he’d knocked over, then headed back to the liquor stash to fix a new drink.

  This time, he returned with
two.

  Handing one to me, he said plainly, “Be careful what you drag out into the light, Silversbane. Some things can’t be shoved back into the darkness, no matter how hard you push.”

  Surprising myself, I took the offered drink, clinking my glass against his before taking a sip. The bourbon stung, but after a moment, my tongue seemed to remember that it’d once liked the taste, and I tossed back a bit more.

  Sebastian sat down across from me again, eyeing me with the same assessing gaze. We seemed to be on another level with each other, both of us dropping some of the bluster and mind games, though I couldn’t figure out how we’d gotten there.

  After another impossibly long stretch of silence, I said, “I’ve agreed to your terms, Sebastian. I’ve made a vow to carry out your bidding. I think I have a right to know who sentenced me.”

  “If circumstances were different, I might agree with you.” He tossed back the rest of the drink, but it wasn’t enough to erase the humanity from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Gray. The story of your binding is not mine to tell.”

  The sincerity in his voice was utterly shocking. Now I was the one off-kilter and unbalanced, knowing I could never trust him, but seeing something else beneath the surface nevertheless.

  In that moment, the Prince of Hell seemed ancient, as though he were carrying the secrets and regrets of every lost soul he’d ever enslaved.

  “Then whose story is it?” I asked, clinging to a last desperate hope he might share some clue, some insight, as if knowing one more thing about my past could untangle every last mystery in my present.

  “It’s mine,” came the sharp, clear reply, and I turned to see Deirdre storming into the kitchen, her eyes blazing. “This has gone on long enough, Sebastian.”

  Sebastian slammed his fist on the table, but the moment he met my grandmother’s fiery eyes, his own softened considerably. In a voice entirely too tender for the moment, he said, “This doesn’t concern you, Deirdre.”

  “You’re damn straight it concerns me. You promised me you’d leave my granddaughter alone until it was time for her to fulfill her vow.”