A shiver crawled up Scarlett’s neck and into her hair. Tilda had been snooping through her things? And Delphine had sent her here?
“Anyway,” Malena continued. “We thought we should let you know. You seemed upset when we didn’t tell you in advance about the last one that didn’t work out.”
“What’s wrong with this one?” Delphine asked. “She has exceptional magic. She’s the perfect witch candidate. Why wouldn’t it work out?”
“She’s too volatile. That exceptional magic you’re talking about is highly dangerous. Even if she goes through the Change and joins one of the covens, there’s no telling when she might lose her temper and use her magic against another witch.”
“Isn’t that a problem with any witch?” Delphine asked. “You’ve all got magic you can use against one another.”
“This is … different,” Malena said. “I don’t like it. And now she’s demanding to meet with this imaginary witch who has the same power she has and who learned to control it after the Change.”
Delphine frowned. “Imaginary witch?”
Malena breathed out sharply through her nose. “Another fabrication of Tilda’s to give Scarlett a reason to go through with the Change. Following through on that lie is going to be more effort than it’s worth.”
Another fabrication. Of course it was.
“So you’re going to get rid of her like you got rid of Georgette?” Delphine asked.
“I still think we should have given Georgette more time,” Sorena said. “She was definitely open to the Change.”
“She was not,” Malena countered. “And, like Scarlett, she knew too much of our ways by then. Scarlett knows even more, thanks to Thoren’s big mouth, so we definitely need to get rid of her. I’ll admit it’s a pity, though. She has such talent.”
“Exactly,” Delphine said. “You can’t waste a talent like hers.”
“And I actually like her,” Tilda piped up. “It was easy to befriend her—unlike some of the others.” She giggled. “Delphine, remember that faerie you sent last year? Celeste? She was an absolute nag. I had the most awful time pretending to be her friend.”
“I know,” Delphine said with a groan. “Based on what I’ve heard from the Agdha Coven, she’s still such a nag.”
A bright flash lit the room briefly, and Thoren appeared beside the stone bench. “Oh, look, the recruiter finally showed up.” He looked around. “So have you made a decision yet? I don’t want to continue the whole boyfriend charade if it’s all going to end up a waste of time.”
Charade? Ice chilled Scarlett’s blood. Had he really said that?
“As if you have anything better to do,” Tilda muttered.
“Hey.” Thoren lifted his hands and let them fall to his sides with a loud smack. “Give me a role other than manwhore, and I’d be happy to play it.”
“Don’t be so crude,” Malena chided him. “And yes, we’ve made a decision. We’re getting rid of this one.”
“Fine.” Thoren crossed his arms. “Go ahead and waste our months of work. Waste all the risk I took kissing someone who could have sucked my life away with her very lips. We’ll just wait for the next pretty girl Delphine thinks would make good witch material.”
“Or don’t waste your hard work. Give Beth—Scarlett—another few weeks,” Delphine urged. “She would be truly magnificent if she went through the Change. Whichever coven ends up getting her would be grateful.”
“And you’d receive your recruitment commission, of course,” Thoren said.
“As would you and your family,” Delphine snapped. “Let’s not pretend we’re in this for anything more noble than the money.”
“I think there is something noble in it,” Tilda mused. “We’re strengthening the witch population with talented fae.” She paused. “And the money’s nice too, of course.” Another giggle escaped her. Thoren smacked her arm, but he was smiling too, and even Malena looked mildly amused.
And just like that—with aching finality—the cracks in Scarlett’s heart split all the way through.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Scarlett strode into Malena’s workshop, feeling oddly calm despite the flames of fury licking at her insides. She looked around, found the satchel Thoren had used for deliveries, and was about to take it when she noticed a different bag hanging above it. A crudely sewn leather backpack. She took that instead; it would be easier to carry.
First, she reached into the box of leather charm bracelets and removed a handful of them. She dumped them into the bag. Then she opened drawers until she found a supply of black candles. She counted ten or so, then added them to the bracelets in the backpack. Passing the desk once more, she swiped whatever seemed useful: a pouch of coins, a blank notebook, a container of chocolate-covered berries, even a small bar of gold. Lastly, she stood in front of the vast collection of spell books. She was tempted to take the biggest one, the one that was often open on the workbench, but it would weigh the bag down too much. She slid two narrower books off the shelf, flipped briefly through them, and dropped them into the bag. And then, for good measure, she chose another two books—one with a map on the cover—and added them to her collection. That should keep her going for a while.
She turned to the door, half expecting—half hoping, if she was perfectly honest—to find Malena there, watching her in open-mouthed shock. The doorway was empty, though, and Scarlett encountered no one on her way back to her bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and added a few things to the backpack before stashing it out of sight. She surveyed the room with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. It would be so easy to simply walk right out of here and never return.
Far too easy.
She crossed the tunnel and entered Tilda’s room. She flung the wardrobe doors open and examined the side where the smoke dresses hung. She wanted a red one. Red was her color. Her name was Scarlett, after all. She picked the one closest to the color of the red dress from that night with Jack. After returning to her room and dressing, she pulled on a pair of black gloves with lace detailing that ended just above her wrists. Then she sat on the bed, crossed one leg over the other, and waited.
And her anger grew like a pot on a stove growing closer and closer to boiling over.
Footsteps sounded outside her bedroom. Her heart thudded faster. The footsteps stopped, a soft knock broke the silence, and she paused to calm her breathing and clear her throat before asking, “Who is it?” She knew it was Thoren, though. Tilda, Scarlett realized as she gave it a few seconds’ thought, usually waltzed right in without waiting to be invited.
Her anger increased by another degree.
“It’s me,” Thoren called.
Scarlett rose from the bed and moved to the door. She pulled it open slowly, making sure her sultriest gaze was in place. “You kept me waiting,” she purred.
“I-I’m sorry.” He swallowed, and she had to admire his acting skills. He had certainly done—and was still doing—a good job of convincing her that he was smitten. “The delivery took a little longer than I thought it would.”
“Of course,” she said, picturing him in the lava room. Charade. Waste of time. We’ll just wait for the next pretty girl. She almost clawed her fingers down his face right then and there, but she managed to control herself. She took his hand, pulled him into the bedroom, and closed the door. She led him to the bed and pushed him down. Straddling his lap, she cradled his face in her gloved hands. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “How badly do you want me?”
He let out a breathless chuckle. “Very.” She nibbled his ear, kissed his neck. Her fingers moved to the top button of his shirt and undid it. Fingers, she was pleased to note, that weren’t shaking. Perhaps she was just as brilliant an actor as Thoren was. “Are you, uh—” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want this?”
“Do you?” she asked in a low, husky voice, sliding the second button undone.
“Yes.” His
hands spread across her shoulders and raked down her back. She was so disgusted, she almost stopped to shove him away from her. She had thought he might stop her, but clearly that wasn’t happening. He would do this. This sacred act that should mean something, that would most certainly have meant something to her had she not discovered his lies. How many other girls had fallen for the same charade before going through the Change and being sent off to some coven or other?
But Thoren wasn’t the only one playing a role now, and Scarlett had yet to reach the end of her act. So she swallowed her disgust and pulled him closer to her. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. As the kiss became more passionate, she slowly slipped each glove off. She dragged her lips along his jaw and whispered into his ear, “No one else will fall for your charade ever again.”
He stilled. “What?”
But by then her hands were around his neck. She dug her fingers into his skin as she squeezed. He clawed at her hands, her arms, but her power was so much stronger than any man’s; he’d lost the battle the moment she touched his skin. His struggles became weaker and more useless until eventually he slumped back onto the bed. She moved with him, never letting go. She stared into his eyes and watched as the last glimmer of life left them, as he stilled and his heart thumped its final beat.
She withdrew her hands and sat back, staring down at the person she had just killed.
What have you done? a quiet voice whispered at the back of her mind.
A single thread of control slipped loose, and she yelled, “I know what I’ve done!” She breathed slowly and deeply, closing her eyes and focusing on the thrilling rush of energy as she crushed that tiny voice into oblivion. She opened her eyes and said softly, “I’ve given him exactly what he deserves.”
She climbed off him and walked to the wardrobe. She changed out of the dress and pulled on pants, several long-sleeved layers, boots, and a thick jacket. She slipped the backpack straps onto her shoulders and walked out of the room, not giving the body on the bed another glance.
She didn’t head for the ice cave. She didn’t light a black candle and walk out of the witches’ mountain. She walked instead to Malena’s workshop. She strode in and went straight to the glass pedestal in the far corner. The little window was closed this time. Scarlett tried the handle, just to see what would happen. As she’d suspected, the window wouldn’t open. She could try to smash the glass, but she had a suspicion that wouldn’t work either.
She raised her hands and pressed them lightly against the glass. Thanks to Thoren’s big mouth, Malena had said. Well, thanks to Thoren’s big mouth, Scarlett now knew how to start a fire that would devour magic. She muttered the spell and watched the translucent flames lick across the glass case. Perhaps it wouldn’t work. Perhaps this wasn’t what he meant when he’d said—But no. The glass was beginning to ripple and melt. She stepped back as the entire case slowly disappeared, as if eaten—devoured—by the flames.
When it was gone, she moved closer to the bell jar and the flower floating inside. She couldn’t only see it, she could sense it. Feel the energy pulsing through it, as if it were some kind of being. The fallen petal had been removed, but some of the other petals had a grayish, unhealthy hue to them. Malena had said she’d healed the flower, but that was clearly another lie. One among many. She tried to lift the bell jar off the cushion, but couldn’t. Another protective enchantment, no doubt. Pulling her hand back, she decided to leave the jar intact for now.
She lifted both the cushion and bell jar and carried them carefully to the workbench. There wasn’t a great deal of space—Scarlett had always found it a messy, overcrowded area—so, with a flick of her pinky finger and a spark of magic, she swept most of the glassware to the floor. It shattered into hundreds of pieces with a splintering and oddly satisfying crash. She placed the cushion and bell jar on the workbench, then dragged the desk chair closer so she could stand on it. She seated herself beside the bell jar, and there she waited, swinging her legs in the same way Tilda did on occasion.
She didn’t have to wait long. Perhaps someone had been close enough to hear the crash, or perhaps Malena’s magic was connected to the magic protecting the flower and she’d felt the destruction of the glass case. Malena ran into the workshop, followed closely by Tilda. “What the—” She raised both arms immediately, stirring the air into action, but Scarlett laid one hand—one very threatening hand—on the bell jar, and Malena paused her magic. “Explain yourself,” she hissed as she lowered her hands.
“I could demand the same thing of you,” Scarlett said, “if you hadn’t so conveniently explained yourselves already.”
“Scarlett,” Tilda said carefully as she took a wary step forward. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, have you forgotten already?” Scarlett asked, frowning in mock confusion. “The lava room. You were discussing whether or not to get rid of me. I’m afraid I missed the end of the discussion, so I’m not sure what decision the four of you came to.”
“No one’s getting rid of you, Scar.” Tilda took another step forward.
“Stop.” Scarlett pointed at the fair-haired girl. “Don’t move another step.”
Tilda took another step. “This is so silly, Scarlett. You’re one of us now, so …”
Her words trailed off as Scarlett pushed her magic outward and onto the bell jar, whispering the words Thoren should never have told her. From the corner of her eye, she saw the glass vanishing as her magical flames consumed it, leaving the enchanted flower exposed. Scarlett fixed her gaze on Tilda and said, “Stop. Moving.”
Malena gripped Tilda’s arm and didn’t let go. “How dare you?” she demanded of Scarlett. “How dare you walk in here and touch things that don’t belong to you? Do you have any idea what will happen if—”
“Shut up, Malena.” Tilda yanked her arm free of her sister’s taloned clutch before turning back to Scarlett. “Just think about this. What will you do out there without us? Where will you go? You need our help to—”
“I don’t need your help, Tilda. Not for a single thing.” Scarlett moved to touch the flower.
“Wait!” Tilda shouted. “Scarlett, wait. Please. I know we haven’t been honest with you, but … but we do want you to be a witch. We want you to be one of us. I want you to be one of us. One of my sisters. It was all a ruse in the beginning. You were just another powerful, talented girl we needed to recruit, but now—”
“But now it’s still a ruse. Stop lying. Just STOP!”
“This part isn’t a lie! We need you to—”
“Now there’s the truth,” Scarlett replied with a harsh laugh. “You need me. And you’ll wish that you had me, but you never will.” Her hand hovered above the petals, almost touching them. “I am independent. I am strong. I am powerful.” Her fist closed around the flower. “And I do not need you.”
“No!” Malena shrieked, launching herself at Scarlett.
Scarlett kicked the chair at Malena, then swung herself around and off the other side of the workbench as she clenched her fist around the flower. It wasn’t nearly as delicate as it looked, and it resisted being crushed with a strength that only magic could produce. But Scarlett’s magic was stronger, different, and that energy she’d sensed—that pulsing, vibrant energy, more intensely powerful than anything she’d ever felt—flowed through her hand and into her body.
Wind swirled around the room, nearly toppling her over as Tilda tore around the side of the workbench, arms outstretched and rage dancing in her wild eyes. “After everything I’ve done for you!” she screamed. “You crazy, ungrateful b—”
With a wordless cry, Scarlett gripped the petals in both hands and tore the entire flower in half. The floor shuddered, cracked, and split, throwing Scarlett one way and Tilda the other. Sand and stones rained down from the crumbling ceiling, their pattering sound mingling with falling apparatus and Malena’s wails. Tilda clawed her way across the jagged tear in the ground, reaching for Scarlett with hands te
nsed like claws. But Scarlett was ready for her. An iron pot was one of the many items that had fallen from the shelves and landed near her feet. As Tilda lunged for her, Scarlett swung the pot at the other girl’s head. She crumpled to the floor, her cloud of golden blonde hair concealing her face.
Scarlett dropped the pot, readjusted the backpack on her shoulders, and stood. It was time for her to leave now, before the mountain fell apart completely. She had everything she needed, so—
“What have you DONE?”
Scarlett looked up in time to see Sorena fling a ball of fire straight at her. She dodged, but the fire hit her shoulder and began burning her jacket. She slapped at it with her sleeve, which seemed to help, but Sorena was already around the workbench. The witch threw herself at Scarlett and attacked with her bare hands. The two of them crashed into the shelves. Sorena gripped Scarlett’s neck and shook her, squeezing tight and letting out a wordless yell. It was all too easy for Scarlett to reach up and touch the woman’s arm. Sorena weakened instantly.
The ground shook. More stones fell from the ceiling. Scarlett pushed Sorena away from her, and the gasping woman stumbled and fell. The flames on her jacket were dead, so that was one less thing to worry about. Among the scattered ingredients, broken apparatus and bits of stone on the floor, Scarlett saw a black candle. She bent and picked it up. As she straightened, silence descended upon the workshop.
Malena’s wailing had stopped.
Scarlett spun around, not wanting to be taken by surprise again, but Malena wasn’t behind her. Snapping her fingers and still looking all around, Scarlett backed away from Tilda and Sorena. A flame blazed to life above the black candle—and something grabbed Scarlett’s ankle and tugged.
She crashed to the floor and felt the candle kicked from her hand. She cried out just as Malena screamed, “I will tear you apart!” The witch scrambled out of Scarlett’s reach, pulled her arm back, then flung it forward, releasing a shower of razor-edged stones. Scarlett rolled onto her stomach and shielded her face. As the stones struck her back, she pushed her magic outward with as much force as she could muster. Malena’s resulting scream and the sound of stones striking other parts of the room told Scarlett she must have done something right. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees and scrambled away from Malena and behind the workbench. As the ground shuddered once more and Malena lunged after her with a cloud of toxic green smoke, she jumped up, hurtled around the bench, and ran from the room.
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