Before Naomi could reply, the sensation of eyes on the back of her neck made her go still. She turned. Camille was in the upstairs window, peering down at them, but she abruptly closed the curtains.
“We need to talk to other coven members,” Alaric continued, “I find it hard to believe no one knows the identity of that witch.”
Naomi remained silent as they got into the car and drove away. Alaric was halfway down the street when she reached out to grab his arm.
“Pull over.”
“Why?” Alaric asked, stiffening in alarm, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror.
“I want to try something.”
Alaric frowned, puzzlement in his eyes, but he pulled over.
“This isn’t magic, just intuition. I think Camille knows something,” Naomi said, answering the question in his eyes. “The way she was looking at me . . .”
“It could have just been surprise.”
“I don’t think so,” Naomi said, shaking her head. “Just . . . give me a second.”
She closed her eyes, focusing on the image of Camille’s pale face in the window, and murmured the words of a Summoning spell. Herel iy manato. She repeated the spell, and that familiar flow of electricity rippled beneath her skin.
“Naomi,” Alaric whispered.
Naomi looked up. A disoriented looking Camille headed down the street towards them, her movements jerky and robotic.
Naomi opened the door, stepping out as Camille approached them. Camille halted at the sight of her and blinked.
“You did this,” Camille snapped. “Performing a Summoning spell on another witch is—“
“I’m sorry,” Naomi said, “but I need to talk to you. I get the feeling you don’t want us to talk around your mother.”
“I—I don’t know anything,” Camille said, her face going ashen. She stumbled back and turned around.
Naomi sighed. She hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but desperate times . . .
She looked at Alaric. He understood her request in just her look, and shot forward to block Camille’s path. Camille’s eyes widened, and she jerked back as Alaric placed his hands on the side of her face, gazing into her eyes. Naomi stepped forward, watching as Camille’s eyes went hazy and unfocused. Alaric’s thrall was taking hold.
“Do you know the identity of the witch in the photo?” Alaric asked.
“Yes,” Camille whispered.
“Who?” Alaric asked. His voice dropped an octave; it was soft, seductive. It was working; Camille’s eyes locked with his, as if hypnotized. “Who is she?” he pressed.
“She’s gone by many names. I knew her as Genevieve,” Camille whispered. Naomi stiffened with anticipation.
“Why didn’t you want to tell us?” Alaric asked.
“Because I’m scared of her,” Camille replied, her eyes filling with tears. “Even though I loved her once. She’s powerful, more powerful than most witches. She’s like . . . you,” she said, her gaze sliding towards Naomi.
The world around Naomi seemed to spin. Her mouth went dry, and her heart began to hammer against her ribs.
“What do you mean?” Alaric asked, tensing.
“The witch you’re looking for . . . she’s another Descendant.”
Chapter 14
“I’d heard of Descendants before; most witches have,” Camille said, her eyes distant. “I thought they were myth. When Genevieve told me she was one, I just thought she meant she was a pureblood. But then she showed me the magic she was capable of. It was no ordinary magic.”
Alaric had released Camille from the thrall, bracing himself for her fury. But instead, she told them she felt relieved to unburden herself with this knowledge, which she’d kept to herself for years.
They were all seated in the car; Camille in the backseat with Naomi. After Alaric drove them to another side street, Naomi had surrounded the car with a Silencing spell.
“Why did she tell you who she was?” Naomi asked, looking puzzled. “Your mother told us she barely participated in coven events.”
“Genevieve is the type of witch who needs attention and adulation. I . . . I fell in love with her on sight. She knew how infatuated I was, that I would keep her secret. Looking back on it, she seemed to be looking for followers.”
“Followers?” Alaric asked, a fissure of alarm flowing through him. “Followers of the Order, or followers of—“
“Genevieve was dismissive of the Order, though she agreed with their mission. No, she wanted her own followers. But she didn’t find that with my coven. The other members were polite to her, but none of them were as taken with her as I was,” she said, flushing with embarrassment. “I emerged from my love induced fog when she began to get . . . dark. Or maybe she was always dark, and I just didn’t notice it.”
“Dark?” Alaric pressed.
“She would talk about how witches were superior to all other creatures; humans and vampires were abominations who shouldn’t even exist. I tried to excuse it at first, I was blinded by love. But I slowly began to see her for what she really was. Cruel. Manipulative. Evil.” Camille’s expression darkened, and she blinked back tears. “She could tell I was no longer under her spell, and she disappeared from my life. I’d never seen or heard anything about her until you two. I recognized your face, you look just like your mother,” she added, studying Naomi.
“Did Genevieve tell you how she knew my mother?” Naomi asked.
“No. She seemed to hate her, though she never revealed why.”
Alaric closed his eyes, gripping the steering wheel so roughly that it began to collapse. He released it, frustrated. The Alliance had been looking for and tracking possible Descendants for years. Why hadn’t Genevieve ever crossed their radar?
“You won’t find her,” Camille said, as if reading his mind. “Genevieve is very good at not being found.”
“Thank you, Camille,” Naomi said, after a brief pause. “You’ve helped us a lot.”
“Please—stop looking for her,” Camille said, a look of genuine fear clouding her expression. “She’s dangerous.”
“That’s precisely why we need to find her,” Alaric replied.
They dropped Camille off before heading back to Elias’s home. He glanced over at Naomi, who looked ashen. If he was reeling, he could only imagine how she felt.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No,” Naomi whispered. “I mean . . . I suspected the witch—Genevieve—was more dangerous than Raphael. But I never could have guessed . . . “ She shook her head. “I feel like such an idiot. I assumed other Descendants out there are either like me—ignorant about who they are—or wanting to fight on the side of the Alliance.”
“You’re not the idiot,” Alaric said, frustration spiraling through him. “This is the Alliance’s mistake. And what we’ve feared. To have someone with that much power on the wrong side. This adds to the theory that someone in the Alliance may be working against us. Perhaps they knew about her and hid it.”
“I need to know her connection to my parents,” Naomi said, looking troubled.
Alaric drummed his hands on the steering wheel, thinking. He’d thoroughly read over Naomi’s file when the Alliance had assigned him as her Watcher. They’d been academics, choosing to live in the human world, though they occasionally participated in coven events. They’d gone out of their way to not involve themselves in the ongoing war between the Alliance and the Order, most likely for Naomi’s sake. Why would Genevieve have been focused on them? Camille said Genevieve hated Naomi’s mother. No mention of her father. Did she have some connection to Naomi’s mother?
“I want to go to Kat’s home,” Naomi said abruptly.
“Why?” Alaric asked, tensing. “Your aunt already told us—“
“Everything she knows, I know. But Kat’s home is the last place my mother was before she died. It’s a long shot, but what if she hid something there? My mother was a smart woman. She suspected danger was coming.”
Alaric wanted to
protest, but he had to concede that Naomi may be right. If her mother had some connection to Genevieve, perhaps they could find a clue to whatever it was in Kat’s home.
But a trickle of unease filled him at the thought of taking Naomi there. They hadn’t even let Kat return to her home for fear of the Alliance or the Order watching her house. Once again, he felt torn between his duties to the Alliance and his desire to protect Naomi.
“Alaric,” Naomi said, reaching for his hand. “We’re missing something. If the answer is hidden at Kat’s . . . “
He gave her a reluctant nod. He would just have to be on sharp alert. If he scented any hint of another witch—or vampire—he’d speed them out of there.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Kat’s home in the northeastern part of the city, a two story ranch style home on a quiet residential street. Alaric scanned the surroundings as they got out and approached. A lone human walked his dog, a neighbor mowed the lawn. The street was as mundane as they come, but he remained alert.
“Naomi Feldman.”
Alaric had to restrain himself from baring his fangs as a stout elderly man approached them. Instinctively, Alaric reached out to pull Naomi behind him, but she gave him a sharp look and moved out of his grasp.
“Stanley,” she said, approaching the man and embracing him. “It’s good to see you.”
“Are you visiting Katherine? I thought she was out of town.”
“She is,” Naomi said, and hesitated only briefly before continuing, “but she left some things behind.”
Alaric stood stiffly as Naomi made small talk with the neighbor. He scanned their surroundings. They were out in the open where any spy could see them. Luckily, her chit chat was brief, and she stepped away from Stanley with a wave.
“This is my friend Alaric, by the way,” Naomi said, gesturing to Alaric. The man’s gaze shifted to Alaric, he took him in with mild interest.
“It’s nice to meet—“ Stanley began.
“You’re feeling fatigued,” Alaric interrupted, placing his hands on the sides of the man’s face and gazing into his eyes. “You’re going to go back inside your house and take a nap. When you wake up, you’ll have no recollection of seeing Naomi—or me.”
The man’s eyes went hazy. He turned and shuffled back into his house. Naomi glared at him.
“Was that necessary? I’ve known Stanley since I was a teenager. He’s harmless.”
“I’m not taking any risks,” he said. “So. I’m your friend, am I?”
Naomi’s glare faded, and she gave him an apologetic smile. “You know you’re so much more than that. But if I told him you’re my vampire mate with whom I share a Blood Bond, I think that would have invited questions.”
Alaric’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile. He cast another look around at the street.
“Let’s get this over with and get out of here.”
The inside of Kat’s home was tidy and organized; nothing seemed out of place, and he didn’t scent any foreign presence.
Naomi moved past the narrow entrance hall and into the living room, a haunted expression crossing her face.
“I spent my teenaged years here; it’s strange being here knowing what I do now,” she said. “See that back door? It kept opening on its own whenever I was upset. I always thought it was the wind. Now I know it was my magic; trying to get out.”
She studied the back door for a moment before turning to head up the stairs. He followed, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, allowing her to immerse herself in memories.
She headed down the hall to a guest bedroom, stepping inside to look around.
“This used to be my room,” she said. “I stayed in here for days after my parents died. I kept hoping that if I kept my eyes closed long enough, when I opened them, they’d be standing by the doorway, telling me it was time to go home.” Her golden eyes glistened with tears, and Alaric stepped forward to reach for her hand.
“Sweetheart. If you want some time alone . . . “
“No,” she said, hastily dashing away her tears. “We came here for a reason.”
She looked around the room one last time before heading out, still holding his hand. She led him to an upstairs attic; every square inch was filled with old books and boxes.
“If my mother hid anything, it would be in here,” Naomi murmured, looking around.
She moved to the center of the attic and closed her eyes.
“Herel iy manato. Mei ene si,” she whispered.
Alaric watched, enchanted, as her skin pulsed and shimmered, her magic awakened by the spell.
Alaric didn’t realize how much he enjoyed watching Naomi conduct her power until now. He loved seeing how her body reacted to her magic; how it had already become so attuned to it. This was who she was; a witch whose magic was an essential part of her.
Naomi stilled. She opened her eyes and moved over to the far wall. She lifted her hand, and the boxes stacked against the wall slid back. Kneeling down next to the wall, she placed her hand against it.
He watched in amazement as the section of wall disappeared, revealing a small hole. Two objects sailed out. One was a letter. The other a grimoire.
He moved forward as Naomi unfurled the letter and scanned it, her eyes filling with tears. He knelt down next to her.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“It’s from my mother,” Naomi whispered, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Alaric . . .” her voice broke, and she looked at him, stricken. “Genevieve is her biological sister. My aunt.”
Chapter 15
Naomi,
It’s selfish of me to hope you never read this letter, but if you are, you know everything. I hope you understand why we never told you who you really are. The people after you will stop at nothing from getting to you and abusing your power. I’ve left one copy of the grimoire with your aunt, another hidden here as a safeguard. Keep close to Kat, she is your true family, I trust her with my life. You do have a biological aunt; my sister, another witch. I’m not sure what name she’ll be using when and if she ever finds you. But she isn’t to be trusted; stay far away from her. She’s dangerous.
Naomi skimmed her mother’s hastily written words before closing her eyes. She took a breath, getting to her feet.
“It all makes sense,” Naomi whispered. “Genevieve is also a Descendant; like my mother, like me. Maybe Genevieve wanted my mother to work with her . . . join their powers or something. And when she refused . . . “ Naomi didn’t want to finish the sentence; she now had no doubt that Genevieve had betrayed her parents’ whereabouts to the Order. “And I think this explains how those witches were able to find the grimoire at Elias’ house. Blood magic.”
“Blood magic?”
“I read about it in one of Madalena’s grimoires. Among witches, relatives share magical bonds. If an object is enchanted by one relative, other relatives can easily find it using a Locator spell. I’ve suspected Genevieve’s working with those witches who attacked the farmhouse; this proves it.”
“Why didn’t she come for the grimoire herself?” Alaric asked, frowning.
“I don’t know,” Naomi said, chilled. “She could be working on something else, and that scares me. It means she’s still ahead of us.”
“Christ,” Alaric swore. “We need to tell the others.” He froze, looking down at the grimoire. “Why wasn’t Genevieve able to find this one?”
“My mother put a special enchantment on this one. When I used the Locator spell . . . I heard it. Just like I heard the Stone. I think my mother enchanted it so no one else could find it but me.”
Naomi picked up the grimoire, clutching it and the letter to her chest. These were direct connections to her mother, and she suddenly felt the enormity of her loss like a gaping wound. Her grief swelled, and she couldn’t hold back her tears. Alaric stepped forward, pulling her close, and she wept into his arms.
“Another Descendant?” Elias asked, his eyes wide. “Holy shit.”
“That
’s an understatement,” Casimir said, anger and frustration simmering in his eyes. “How the hell did we miss that?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” Alaric grumbled.
Naomi and Alaric were back at Elias’s home. They sat in front of Alaric’s laptop, on a video call with Elias, Casimir and Madalena over the private communications network Casimir had set up for them.
“She claimed to be a former lover of Raphael’s when I confronted her in the alley,” Naomi said slowly, as the memory came back to her. “I don’t think that’s true. That had to be purposeful. Maybe to keep us from finding out who she really is.”
“It worked,” Casimir said, “I’ve been focusing my search on former paramours of Raphael. I’ll have to see what I can dig up about her. It helps having a name, even if it is an alias. But she’s done a damn good job of hiding herself thus far.”
“Just find out what you can,” Alaric said. “Please.”
“Naomi,” Madalena said, looking at her with concern. “If Genevieve is related to you, she must have used Blood magic to get into your mind. This explains what happened during your induction ceremony—and when you tried to use the Locator spell to find her.”
“I know,” Naomi replied, with a chill. “But . . . this also means I can get into her mind as well.”
Madalena nodded.
“You may be the best way of finding her.”
“But you told Naomi to close her mind off to her,” Alaric said, frowning.
“That was before I knew we were dealing with another Descendant.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Alaric said, his mouth tight. “If Genevieve can—“
“We have no choice, Alaric,” Naomi said, giving him a hard look. Now was not the time for his overprotectiveness. “We’re dealing with another Descendant. She’s more dangerous than we thought.”
“She’s more adept at getting into your mind, so it will take some practice for you,” Madalena continued, focusing on Naomi. “You’ll have to be careful to not let her manipulate you.”
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