Rebel Witch

by September Stone

  Poe crosses to Taj, with Silas and me at his heels. I don’t know why I was expecting to see something different than what Taj reported, but he’s exactly right. The deadbolt has been slid back into the unlocked position.

  “The only way to do that is from the inside,” Poe murmurs.

  The proclamation makes me breathe easier. “Then it’s obvious, right? Bryn left on her own. Maybe she wanted to make a charm or just be out in her element for a while. She did that when we were at Elowen’s cabin.”

  “Things were different at Elowen’s cabin,” Silas insists.

  “And even when we were there, she told me she was going to do it,” Taj says. “She mentioned it the night before—so we wouldn’t get worried.”

  “Maybe she just didn’t think about it last night,” I suggest. I know I’m grasping at straws, but I can’t imagine Bryn would just leave without telling anyone. “There has to be an explanation.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there is,” Poe mutters darkly. “And if I had to guess, I’d bet we won’t like it.”

  He throws open the door and heads out into the sun-dappled grass beyond in nothing but his boxer briefs. I quickly toe into my shoes before following after him. Within fifteen seconds, Silas and Taj are out the door, too. Poe snorts his disapproval as Silas pulls a hoodie on over his head, and it takes a moment before I register the sweatshirt belongs to Bryn. My stomach lurches. How long has she been gone? She could be experiencing hypothermia if she’s been out here too long.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, keeping pace with Poe. “Can you track her?”

  “Sh,” he snaps, studying the narrow trail we took to the cabin. He sniffs the air a few times, as if attempting to distinguish Bryn’s scent from the competing aromas of summer blooms and decomposing leaves. We’ve gone no more than a few yards when he holds his arms out, stopping us all in our tracks.

  “What is it?” Taj asks in a whisper.

  But the sound of feet scuffling along the path make any more questions die in his throat. Someone is coming.

  “Bryn?” Silas calls, earning a reproachful look from Poe.

  The cadence of the footfalls changes to a quicker thud until from around a bend up ahead, Bryn appears. She wears my dark blue hoodie and her pajama pants. Her cheeks are pink from the early morning air. “Oh, hi.”

  The tepid greeting raises my suspicions. “Hi. What are you doing out so early?”

  Bryn’s mouth twitches like she’s searching for just the right words. It’s at that moment I realize this wasn’t a simple early-morning stroll. She shifts on the balls of her feet, not making eye contact with any of us. And the more I study her face, the more I detect the signs of sleeplessness written all over it. Her eyes are bloodshot, and there are shadows beneath them. Did she sleep at all last night?

  After several seconds, she inhales a deep breath and stands tall, drawing back her shoulders. “After what Ryder said last night, I realized we had to do something. We can’t just wait around for Lillian to find us—or worse, strike again and destroy more lives. We don’t know what her end game is, but we know it can’t be good. So we need to stop her before she can do more damage.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Poe’s back lengthens and the muscles of his arm tighten. “What did you do?”

  An edge of defiance erases some of Bryn’s sleepiness. “All your leads didn’t pan out. Ryder and the Front don’t know where to find Lillian.” She swallows before continuing. “Sometimes to stop a criminal, you have to think like one.”

  Silas shakes his head. “No, Bryn. You didn’t.”

  But before Bryn can even answer him, another figure appears around the bend in the trail. I would recognize her anywhere, even if she looks out of place here amid trees and woodland creatures.

  Mona Ward lifts her chin, staring imperiously as if daring any of us to question her presence here. She looks the way I imagine a queen would when presented with peasants, and I hate her for it.

  “Bryn wisely decided to take me up on my generous offer,” Mona says in that dangerously musical voice of hers.

  Poe opens his mouth to say something, but I’m faster. “Bryn, could I talk to you for a second.” My eyes flick to Mona. “Alone?”

  The siren holds up her hands innocently. “By all means.”

  Bryn steps forward tentatively, as if expecting the four of us to snatch her when she gets within arm’s reach. Instead, everyone stays completely still as I push ahead of Poe and reach my hand out to her. She takes it, and I lead her back up the path toward the cabin—far enough away that we’ll be out of earshot of everyone except probably Poe.

  “What’s going on?” The question bubbles out of me before we’ve fully stopped walking. “You reached out to Mona? After we all decided against it?”

  “We don’t have a choice.” A desperate fire burns in her eyes, so fierce it nearly steals my breath. “I couldn’t just do nothing. Not after what happened to Ginger,” she adds in whisper.

  The world seems to tilt on its axis. She knows. I thought I was discreet when I told the others Ryder’s news about Wisdom. Silas said Bryn wanted to hit the bathroom, and I took the opportunity to fill the guys in. We all agreed it was best to keep the information from Bryn for fear that she would do something reckless. But the joke’s on me because she found out anyway.

  She stands up straighter, drawing back her shoulders. “Were you ever planning to tell me?”

  “Yes.” The word comes automatically, and I know it’s true—even if I didn’t come up with a plan for when. “But can you understand why I didn’t want to? Look what you did when you found out. You reached out to Mona Ward, of all people. Bryn, you know what kind of person she is.”

  A degree of her confidence fades, but she doesn’t back down. “Yes, I do. Which is why I know she’s got the kind of connections that can get us the information we need before it’s too late to stop Lillian.” She lifts her chin, pinning me with a steely glint in her eye. “It’s too late to turn back now. I’m working with Mona, whether you are or not.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Taj

  I still can’t believe this is happening. After our encounter with Mona at the diner, I was convinced nothing could ever make Bryn seek out the woman’s help. We all agreed that Mona’s only concern is her own self-interests. Although the siren claims to have changed her tune, when I gaze at her now, looking every bit as relaxed and in-control standing in the small clearing surrounding the hunting cabin as she ever did in her office while she ran her criminal empire, I find that hard to believe.

  No, the only person who’s changed here is Bryn. I don’t know how she learned that Ginger was lured out of Wisdom, but the information has lit a desperate fire beneath her feet.

  I should be furious that she contacted Mona without telling any of us. She put herself in danger by meeting the woman who imprisoned her for years without backup. Even if Mona’s information pans out, there’s a strong chance that any effort to take Lillian down will be to Mona’s benefit. Still, I can’t be mad at Bryn. I understand why she did what she did, and although I wish she’d gone about it differently, there’s no use being upset about something I can’t change.

  Calder’s voice drifts to me as he rounds the cabin’s corner, his phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, Ryder. Got it.” Sighing, Calder pockets the device as he approaches the spot where Silas and I stand. “He’s going to investigate her claim,” he says, his voice low, as if wanting to ensure Mona doesn’t overhear.

  Silas curses under his breath. “Is he sending someone to pick up the trash, at least?”

  I can’t help casting a furtive glance in Mona’s direction. But if she overheard Silas’ insult, it doesn’t register on her face. She continues to stand at the edge of the forest, looking mildly bored.

  Calder sighs, running a hand through his hair. He likes people to think that he’s put his time in Mona’s collection behind him. Back when we were trying to convince R
yder that Calder should be my backup when I broke Bryn out of the compound, Calder pointed to his time visiting his Front-appointed therapist as proof he’d moved past it. But the tension in his muscles that bunched his shoulders around his ears back at the diner where we last encountered the siren is back, and he resolutely forces his gaze to drift nowhere near where Mona stands. I know him well enough to understand he’s not as okay with this woman’s presence as he’d like us all to think.

  “Ryder can’t spare resources at the moment,” Calder says, keeping his voice low. “Between the patrols around Restin and the search parties out for the people who disappeared from Wisdom, active agents are spread thin. Teams from other branches are en route, but Ryder didn’t tell me when they might arrive. The few people he can spare are checking out Mona’s intel to see if it’s legit. He’ll send someone as soon as he can.”

  Silas shakes his head. “Fabulous. And exactly what are we supposed to do with her in the meantime?”

  The cabin door swings open and Poe stalks out, glaring at Mona as if irritated by her mere existence. “I convinced Bryn to climb into bed, but I don’t know if she’ll actually sleep. Do we know what’s happening with that situation?” He inclines his head toward Mona.

  “She’s our responsibility, apparently,” Silas grumbles.

  I expect Poe to register his opinion on the matter, but he merely nods. “I’ve got a set of anti-magic cuffs in my bag. Those’ll keep her from using her song on us. And I’m familiar with the wards set up on this cabin. With the right tweaking, we can turn them from keeping people out to keeping people in. Two of you can help me with that while the other keeps watch over the siren until the building’s secure.”

  Working with the Front for as long as I have, I’ve grown accustomed to leaders taking decisive action in even the worst situations. And while I usually have the tendency of questioning and poking holes in plans to make sure they stand up to scrutiny, my habit doesn’t rear its head this time. Somehow, I trust that Poe has already asked himself those questions and that this choice is what’s best in the given situation.

  “I’ll help reverse the spells,” Silas says quickly.

  I glance at Calder, whose jaw is clenched. As much as I don’t want to be anywhere near Mona, I know that feeling is worse for him. “I’ll be on Mona-watch,” I offer.

  The tightness that evaporates from Calder’s expression is better than any thank you I could receive. Poe directs Calder and Silas to begin locating where the protection charms are buried around the house while he goes inside to collect his anti-magic cuffs, leaving me to bring Mona inside.

  “It’s about time,” she says in a bored voice as I take a firm hold of her upper arm and lead her toward the cabin. “It’ll take hours to shake off this chill. I don’t suppose a cup of coffee is too much to ask for, is it?”

  I ignore her as we step into the house. The door to the room Poe and Silas shared last night is closed, so I take Mona into the one Calder and I slept in. I pull the room’s single wooden chair away from the wall and toss Calder’s pack onto his bed, but when Mona moves to sit down, I stop her.

  “Is this really necessary?” Mona sighs as I begin a standard pat-down, starting with her legs. “I’ve already told you, I come in peace. My only desire is to help you stop Lillian.”

  I don’t respond. There’s nothing to gain by engaging with her.

  After sweeping both her legs and her waist, I move to her arms and detect something inflexible on her right bicep. Mona was always one for jewelry, but I can’t say I ever noticed something so high up on her arm. Besides, with her current attire, fancy adornments are entirely out of place. “What’s this? Pull up your sleeve.”

  “Oh that?” Mona titters with a chime-like laugh. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  By the time Poe steps into the room a moment later, I’ve forgotten what I was concerned about. “Those the cuffs?”

  Poe nods and hands them to me. They fit around Mona’s wrists with a satisfying click. For the first time since she appeared this morning, I sigh with relief.

  Mona waits until Poe has left the room before speaking. “Don’t you find these precautions a tad unnecessary, Patel?”

  “I’m not really in the mood to chat,” I say, not bothering to look at her.

  “But I am,” Mona says petulantly. “I should have known this is the reception I’d get. All I’m trying to do is help you people. I wish you could see that. I’m a changed woman. I really am.”

  “Uh huh,” I mutter noncommittally.

  “I’m not the bad guy here, Patel. Surely you can see that.”

  At this, I finally do turn around. “If you’re trying to work your magic on me, you might as well stop. Those cuffs will keep you from using your song, so there’s no use talking.”

  “She’s special,” Mona says after several long moments of silence. “But, of course, you already know that. You knew it before you ever realized what she was to you.” She sighs wistfully. “I could have taken you off her rotation, you know. I knew you were growing closer. I knew all about the contraband books you brought her. But I never stopped you from seeing her. Have you ever wondered why?”

  Her words are like slivers of ice sliding into my spine. Did she really know about all the special treats I used to sneak to Bryn? Or is this something she realized only after, when it was too late to do anything about it? It would be just like her to twist the truth to satisfy her own agenda.

  “I was hoping you’d slip,” she says when it’s clear I’m not going to answer. “I saw the beginnings of her true power back when Calder was still in my collection. I didn’t understand it then—I just knew she was growing more powerful. When I realized the source of that power, I was afraid of just how strong she might grow. She might have been able to escape with her young lover, and then where would that leave me?”

  “Such a tragedy,” I mutter.

  “It would have been,” Mona insists. “She was still so young—just a teenager. I don’t think any of you fully understand what Bryn is capable of. She told me of some impressive feats she’s managed in her short time as your anchor. The battle at the Temple of Theurgy sounded especially impressive. The way she was able to use the daemon’s ability on everyone in the forest—and without even touching the daemon himself. Surely you understand how special she is.”

  A shiver runs down my spine at Mona’s words. Did Bryn really tell her that story of her own volition, or did Mona use her song to shake Bryn down for information?

  Still, either way—as much as I hate to admit it—Mona has a point. With everything else that was happening at the time, I never gave much thought to the impressive feat of magic Bryn employed during our battle against the Order of Theurgy’s priests and acolytes. But now that Mona mentions it, it was quite out of the ordinary. The fact that Bryn used a power that belongs to Silas is beyond anything I’ve ever heard of before—but at the time I chalked it up to the fact that the five of us were connected by the death mark. Is it possible Bryn was able to do it for another reason? Even if she and Silas hadn’t consummated their bond yet, I know the two of them were friendly. It’s possible they began their feedback loop of feeding each other’s powers even back then.

  “Just imagine what she might have done as a teenager, fresh with the bloom of first love, without having the slightest idea what her connection to her lover meant,” Mona continues. “I knew I needed to keep her safe.”

  I snort. “Safe? By locking her up in a cell?”

  “Yes,” Mona says, as if the answer is obvious. “I saw to all her needs. I made sure she wouldn’t go crazy from being deprived of touch. But I was very calculated about who I allowed to grow physically close to her. You were a guard, Patel. I’m sure you know better than anyone just how much some of your coworkers would have loved to enjoy some physical closeness with your girlfriend.”

  Rage twists my insides, but I don’t rise to the bait. It’s true. I could name half a dozen guys I used to work
with who were disturbingly open with their sexual fantasies about Bryn. But they knew Mona wouldn’t tolerate if it they stepped out of line. It was commonly understood that most of Mona’s collection was fair game—so long as no one was coerced or physically harmed. But Bryn was off limits if one wanted to avoid a painful death.

  “Aldridge told me you were sweet on our Bryn,” Mona continues. “He was mad. Jealous, I think, since Bryn made it clear he made her skin crawl. And I could have transferred you to another part of the compound entirely. But I wanted to test the limits of Bryn’s abilities. I wanted to see if simple friendship could make her magic stronger.”

  Our Bryn. The words set my teeth on edge. After everything that’s happened, how can she claim any possession over Bryn? Given the opportunity, Bryn ran far and fast from everything Mona stands for.

  But even as the indignation rises in me, reality crashes over it like a rogue wave. If that were really true, Bryn wouldn’t have risked reaching out to the siren who held her captive for so long. Maybe there is some connection there that I never saw. I assumed Bryn’s feelings toward Mona mirrored Calder’s: He can’t stand the woman who kept him locked away and then sold him to a group of criminals at the first opportunity. But Bryn lived under different circumstances, and she was with Mona far longer. She hated the fact that Mona used her magical proficiency to create potions that harmed people, but perhaps there was something more to their relationship—something I wasn’t privy to. Something that could explain this eerie, almost maternal affection coming from Mona.

  I shake myself from my thoughts. No. Any bond Mona imagines exists between her and Bryn is just that—imagined. Bryn reached out to Mona out of a sense of desperation—not out of a sense of trust or familiarity.

  “Did you experiment on all your pets, or was it just the special ones?” I ask in the most cutting tone I can muster. Because, at the end of the day, that’s what Mona is admitting too. She wanted to see the extent of Bryn’s powers, so she allowed me access to her.