“The Windermere Coven enacted the Edict, not Corinne!” I exclaimed. “And they forced her to stop doing Blood magic! I knew she wouldn’t outlaw her own magic—it didn’t make sense!”
“But how could they force her to do anything?” Avery asked. “If she was already so strong?”
“Keep reading,” I said grimly.
“They have taken my love as a hostage that I shall do as they command,” Corinne had written. “If only I had Blood-Bonded to him when we had the chance! But now they say I must give my word and sign my name to the sacred scroll of truth saying I shall leave him and never again work the magic of the Blood or his life is forfeit. I do not wish to sign my name, which shall bind me to this cursed vow forever. But I do not know what else I may do.
I have no choice—though I love him more than my own life, I must leave him.”
There were blotches on this part of the manuscript again—tear marks, I thought. I could imagine Corinne writing these words as tears coursed down her cheeks, dipping her pen again and again into the ink, which was a faded brown once more, just like all the rest of the entries in the grimoire.
“This is a bitter pill indeed and I curse the day I saved the craven Sisters of the Windermere Coven from the plague which surely must have carried them all away if not for my own true love coming to save us all. I have tried to tell them they must not fear him for he wishes only good things, but they will not listen. We must be parted.”
“Could a group of witches hold a Nocturne hostage like that?” I asked doubtfully.
Avery frowned. “Windermere witches could, I’ll bet. At the time this was written, they were the most powerful coven in the world.”
“And I bet they got that way because Corinne’s Nocturne lover healed them with his blood,” I exclaimed. “The merging of Others increases powers, so they were strong enough together to hold him away from Corinne until she promised never to see him again and to stop doing Blood magic.”
“And signed her name in the scroll of truth—which I guess must have been spelled to make her keep her word,” Avery remarked. “So she couldn’t get free of them and then go off with her Nocturne after all.”
“Poor Corinne!” I exclaimed, feeling terrible for my ancestress. “And how ungrateful of the rest of the Windermere Coven to do that to her!”
“She was right,” Avery said thoughtfully. “She should have Blood-Bonded to him when she had a chance. They could break a marking—even a double marking. But a Blood-Bond would have kept them together no matter what. There’s no magic that can break that—only death can undo it.”
I thought of bonding to Griffin that way and shivered. I was only sixteen and way too young to decide what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, let alone who I wanted to spend it with. But I couldn’t help it—when I looked into my future, his pale lightning and pitch eyes always seemed to be staring back at me. I wanted him—wanted to be with him forever. I didn’t blame Corinne for being upset—I would be devastated too if someone tried to take my Nocturne from me just as hers had been taken from her.
“Look, Avery said, pointing though he was careful not to touch the page. “It gets even worse!”
“To be certain of our parting, the Elders have ruled that I shall be espoused to another—a man of the village who has no magic in him. Thus they hope to dull my powers and to make certain that my line shall have no magic in their blood.”
“Well, I guess that part of their plan backfired,” Avery remarked, looking pointedly at me. “Since you obviously have more than your fair share of magic and Corinne is your Great-great-great—who knows how many greats—grandmother.”
“Look—they made him go off with someone else too,” I said sadly, pointing at the page.
“My own dear love they have paired with one of his own kind,” Corinne went on. “But he has said that he will start a school—a place where Others of all kinds may learn together, even though they may not mingle in fleshy congress.”
“Um, I’m guessing that ‘fleshy congress’ is Old English for sexy times,” Avery said dryly.
“Yes, probably,” I said absently. “But no wonder she used that Latin motto at the beginning of the book—the Night Reigns over All, remember? Her true love must have been the founder of Nocturne Academy!”
“Wow.” Avery nodded thoughtfully. “I knew the school was old but I didn’t know it was that old.”
“Apparently so,” I said and sighed. “Poor Corinne—what an awful thing to happen to her.”
“I agree—the whole thing sucks,” Avery said flatly. “I guess even back then people were afraid of what they didn’t understand.” He sighed. “Is that the last entry?”
“Actually no, look at this,” I said, when I turned the page.
There was an illustration here—a rough sketch but I could recognize it very well as the same picture we had seen in Avery’s silver scrying bowl.
It was the woman with long hair holding out her bleeding wrist to the knight with fangs.
“Look,” breathed Avery. “The Witch Queen and her Blood Knight!”
“Beautiful,” I whispered. Hardly knowing what I was doing, I reached out and brushed the hair of the Witch Queen with my still-bleeding fingertip, leaving just a tiny speck of blood on the page.
“Megan, you shouldn’t—” Avery began and then we both whispered, “Ohhhh!”
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Color had rushed from the tiny spot of blood, filling in the lines of the rough sketch until it was so rich and vibrant it might almost have been a photograph or one of those hyper-realistic drawings you see sometimes on the Internet. The Witch Queen’s hair was a rich auburn and the blood on her wrist was bright crimson. The knight’s pale eyes shone like lightning and his hair was as black as coal. The looks on their faces were filled with love and devotion—the desire to protect—the need to be close.
It was beautiful.
“It’s exactly like we saw in my scrying bowl,” Avery whispered. “Do you think Corinne painted it herself?”
“She must have,” I murmured. “I haven’t seen anyone else’s hand in here and it’s very well done—like her drawings of the plants and herbs but even better.”
“She was definitely multi-talented,” Avery agreed. “But what does it mean?”
“Look—the book is showing us!” I said excitedly, pointing to the page opposite the picture.
As we watched, the words appeared to be writing themselves across the parchment. And the color of the ink had changed again—this time blazing out of the page in thin silver lines, as though the page was being etched with the precious metal before our eyes.
“This vow and foretelling I leave for my descendants,”
Corinne had written—or was presently writing, I guessed. Was this a spell left on the grimoire or was she contacting us from beyond the grave? The idea sent a cold finger skating down my spine.
As we watched, the writing went on.
“One day a descendent of mine shall come into her power—a power to equal my own. Magic shall be in her blood, and she shall use her blood to call magic forth and bend it to her will. She shall meet one of my true love’s line and together they will end the Edict, this cruel and evil law which seeks to keep Others of different kinds apart. None shall gainsay her for she shall be The Witch Queen reborn and he shall be her Blood Knight and together they shall set the Others free.
Take this as a sign—from now until her coming, the sacred roses around the Coven’s Hallowed Glade shall be as withered and dead as my heart. When they begin to green again, The Witch Queen of my line is near. And when once again they bloom, she is come and all the Coven must tremble before her! This curse do I lay on them and their descendants—that she shall reign over them with her Blood Knight at her side and none shall gainsay her. Then shall all Others live together in peace and love, with none to interfere. This do I, Corinne Latimer, swear, attest, and avow.
So Mote it Be.”
The last sentence was writte
n in crimson again, as fresh as spilled blood. It blazed from the page and I felt a tingle run through my entire body as I read it.
“Wow,” Avery whispered shakily. “This must be the prophecy you heard Nancy and her mom talking about!”
“What roses is she talking about?” I asked him. “Where is the Coven’s, uh, Hallowed Glade?”
“Not too far from here, actually,” Avery said. “But I never saw any rose bushes there—though they do have a lot of thorn vines surrounding the Glade. I always thought they were just to keep non-witches out, though.” He shook his head. “And before you ask, I’ve never seen any roses growing on them.”
“How many people do you think know about this?” I asked, pointing at the silver lines of the prophecy.
He shrugged.
“Who knows? It seems to have been hidden until you touched it with your blood. Maybe it only appears to Corinne’s direct descendants that have her blood in their veins.”
That sounded reasonable to me.
“So it could have been hidden for years if none of her descendants put their blood on one of the pages,” I murmured.
“You’re probably right,” Avery agreed. “Oh look—what’s happening to it?”
Even as we watched, the silver lines of the prophecy were fading and the vivid colors of the painting of the Witch Queen and her Blood Knight were growing dim.
“The prophecy is hiding itself,” I said quietly. “Just as Corinne must have intended. After all, she couldn’t let her coven know she was plotting against them—not even in the very distant future.”
I knew I must be right. The prophecy was hiding itself away once more and no one without my blood—Corinne’s blood—would be able to see it.
At last we were left looking once more at seemingly blank pages.
Both Avery and I sighed deeply and I looked at him.
“Do you think my mom ever read it?” I asked doubtfully. “I mean, could Corinne’s prophecy be the reason she left the magical world and chose to raise me as a Norm?”
“Possibly.” Avery looked thoughtful. “It’s known that Corinne’s descendants always have daughters so she would have known she’d have a girl. But how would she know that you would be the one in the prophecy? Maybe the thorn vines came to life again? They’ve always looked pretty green to me, every time I’ve seen them, anyway.”
“But am I the one Corinne was talking about?” I asked. “I mean—this is a lot, Avery. Are we really sure the prophecy is about me?”
“Let’s see—you have a Nocturne boyfriend and you’ve been doing Blood magic,” he ticked off on his fingers. “Plus, your magic is ridiculously strong for an untrained witch and you’re a direct descendant of Corinne Latimer. Oh yeah—I think it’s talking about you, Princess.” He nodded at the now blank-appearing grimoire.
“But why would my mom leave her coven and raise me in the Norm world just because of some prophecy about the Edict?” I demanded.
“Have you heard nothing I’ve been telling you?” Avery demanded. He shook his head. “I keep forgetting you don’t understand the importance of the Edict since you weren’t raised with it. Listen, every Other in the whole magical world has had it hammered into their heads from the time they were babies—Others of different species don’t mix. So if your mom somehow figured out that you might be the one to break the most sacred law of Other-kind, well…”
“I guess… it would be like an Evangelical finding out they were destined to have the Anti-Christ for their baby,” I said slowly.
“Exactly!” Avery exclaimed. “That’s exactly what it was like. Your poor mom found out she was going to have a Rosemary’s Baby situation going on and she decided she had to leave the coven and the whole magic world for good!”
“That’s exactly what she decided,” a strangely familiar voice said behind us. “Well, with a little persuasion from me.”
Avery and I whirled around. Standing there, a smirk of superiority on her face, was Winifred Rattcliff—head of the Windermere Coven and behind her were Nancy and the Weird Sisters.
Before we could move, they pounced.
69
“Run!” Avery shouted, grabbing my wrist and starting to drag me towards the door. But the other witches were between us and the exit. He pointed his index and pinky finger at Winifred Rattcliff and said something—some word of power—that made my eardrums bulge just to hear it.
But the senior witch was too quick. She made a sweeping gesture with both arms, as though deflecting Avery’s spell, and then said a word of power of her own.
At once Avery’s arms came straight down by his sides and his face froze—all except his eyes which bulged frantically from their sockets.
“That’s what you get for challenging your betters, boy,” Winifred spat.
For a moment I felt as frozen as my coven-mate—I was horrified at what had happened to Avery. But my paralysis only lasted a moment. I couldn’t let this go on—I knew I had to fight!
Of course my first thought was to work some Blood magic. Now that I knew it was my birthright, I felt perfectly at ease using it. But Winifred Rattcliff must have been standing behind Avery and me listening for some time—though how she had snuck up on us without Emma sounding the alarm, I had no idea. Anyway, she seemed to know all about my magical methods.
“Quick, get the bit in her teeth and gag her,” she exclaimed, pointing at me and directing Nancy and her friends. “She mustn’t be allowed to bite herself and draw blood!”
Before I knew what was happening, a bite guard like something a football player would wear was shoved between my teeth and taped securely in place with a strip of silver duct tape which Nancy slapped across my mouth.
“There you go, you little no-talent bitch!” she hissed in my face. “Let’s see you try to work spells now!”
I wanted to point out that if I really had no magical talent, she wouldn’t have to bother gagging me. But of course I couldn’t. And anyway, I was too involved in trying to find another way to make myself bleed.
I reached for the key but Winifred yanked it off, pulling the black chain from around my neck before I could even touch it.
“I’ll take that, thank you!” she snapped. “I don’t know how you found it since I thought I had disposed of it pretty thoroughly, but I’ll keep it safe now.” She looked at me triumphantly.
I gasped behind the gag. How had she managed to get the necklace off when I had been unable to do a damn thing to remove it in over a week?
“You’re wondering how I’m able to remove it?” Winifred guessed, holding the key by its chain and swinging it in front of me like a pendulum. “Well who do you think spelled it in the first place, my dear little Latimer? It and its counterpart.”
I knew she was talking about the lock around Griffin’s throat and I felt a sudden spasm of panic. How would he ever be free of the lock now that Winifred had taken away the key? I hadn’t been able to unlock him the night before but I’d had an idea if we were very careful—maybe if I cut for him several times to drive away the terrible thirst that tormented him and we stockpiled a bunch of blood bags to have by him just in case it came back—we could dare to use the key to open the lock and let him go. But now, how could I possibly do that?
Should have done it last night—should have risked it! I thought to myself frantically. But Griffin hadn’t wanted to.
“Just let me hold you, little witch,” he’d said when I suggested it. “Let us enjoy being together.”
I felt the same way I imagined Corinne must have felt when she was parted from her Nocturne lover and thought that they should have Blood-Bonded when they had the opportunity. But now it was too late and I didn’t think I would ever get the chance to free Griffin again.
As though to reinforce my hopeless thoughts, Winifred Rattcliff put the black key with its winking Blood Stones neatly into the pocket of her puce jacket and patted it, smirking at me the whole time.
Honestly, she had no idea what colors looked go
od on her. Not that puce looks good on anyone.
She saw me watching her and her face twisted into a sneer.
“Did you find Corinne’s grimoire fascinating reading?” she asked me, knowing full well I couldn’t answer. “I’m so glad you finally took the initiative to come look at it—I thought I’d never get you in here after you refused to move in with the Sisters, as you should have.”
My eyes widened as I stared at her. So the grimoire had been a kind of trap. She had wanted me to read it—probably to make certain that the prophesy would appear for me!
Winifred Rattcliff seemed able to read my mind—or maybe she could just read my face.
“Oh yes—I wanted you to read it,” she said, nodding at my ancestor’s book. “It was the only way to be sure you were the one. And since you are, I’m afraid you’ll have to be disposed of.” She glared at me. “You never should have come to Nocturne Academy. If you’d stayed in the Norm world, where I persuaded your mother you belonged, you wouldn’t have to die now. A pity, isn’t it?”
She shrugged as though my death was a minor inconvenience that was simply unavoidable and then turned to her daughter.
“Now then,” she told Nancy and the Weird Sisters. “Let’s get these two and their little Norm friends over to the Hallowed Glade. We have much to do before dawn.”
As they marched us downstairs—apparently the senior witch’s spell allowed Avery’s legs to move, though the rest of him remained frozen—I managed to catch his eyes.
What are we going to do? I asked him with a desperate look.
There was despair in Avery’s blue eyes and I could almost hear him saying, I don’t know!
Lock and Key Page 33