Thomas zoomed in on the woman. The image was pixelated, but her pale, sallow features now filled the screen.
“Do any of you recognize her?” I asked the witches.
“Like I said, the ancient families are reclusive,” Bella said. “They don’t live in the middle of Beverly Hills like we do.”
“You’re not an old family?” I’d always assumed they were because they were so powerful.
“No.” Amber shook her head, her eyes bugged out in horror. “We have as much power as they do, but we were bred overtime to be this way. The ancient families remain so powerful because… well, they keep their breeding in the family.”
“Gross.” I crinkled my nose in disgust. “So you have no idea which family this woman might be from?”
“We’ve never seen her before.” Bella tilted her head, studying the image. “But she has the look of a Foster witch, doesn’t she?” The question was directed to the other witches in the room—not to Thomas or me. “She looks like the pictures of them I’ve seen in books.”
“Hair black as tar and skin white as snow.” Amber’s lips formed into an O of surprise as she traced her index finger along the woman’s features on the screen. Then she dropped her hand down to her side and turned back to face us, her eyes serious. “But the Foster witches were all killed during the Great War. They created the spell to lock Geneva into the ring, but they were killed in battle by Nephilim before they could perform the spell themselves.”
“A spell so strong it required their Final Spells to work.” Bella crossed her arms and smirked. “Convenient.”
“What are you saying?” Amber asked.
“What if they weren’t actually killed in the Great War?” she replied. “What if they created the spell, and then faked their deaths so another witch circle could sacrifice themselves to stop Geneva?”
“That’s twisted,” Cassandra said.
“The Foster witches were notorious for being twisted,” Bella said.
I didn’t comment on that, since I was already a few steps ahead after hearing them mention Geneva. “Could the Foster witches have also created a cavern that kills most people who enter?” I asked. “And could they have placed weapons in that cavern? Weapons connected to the souls of demons?”
“You’re talking about the Crystal Cavern,” Cassandra said. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“They could have,” Bella mused. “But they only would have done that if they knew that sometime in the future, someone would enter the cavern and draw blood with one of the weapons to release a demon soul trapped inside. You’re talking about over a century of deception. Which yes, the Foster witches are definitely capable of.”
Amber rolled her eyes. “One grainy photo, and you’re already talking about the Foster witches like they’re still alive,” she said.
“You’re the one who pointed out that the witch at the mating ceremony looks exactly like the old pictures of the Foster witches,” Bella said. “It’s not far-fetched to think their descendants would look similar, given their inbreeding.”
The two witches stared at each other, neither looking like they were going to back down.
“Can you retrieve these books you’re talking about?” Thomas asked. “It’ll help if we can see photos of the Foster witches ourselves.”
Evie and Doreen jumped up to leave the room and fetch the books. They weren’t nearly as chatty as their sisters, so I had a feeling they were itching to get a break from our constant strategizing and planning.
They returned a few minutes later. Each of them held two heavy, dusty tomes.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Is there any reason why you haven’t digitized this yet?” he asked.
“Magic is our specialty,” Evie said as she and Doreen dropped the books down on the desk. “Not technology.”
“Once this is all over, perhaps I can be of some assistance,” Thomas offered.
“Just like that?” Bella looked at him suspiciously. “No catch?”
“You’re already helping me,” he said. “And it seems like you’ll continue to do so. It’s the least I can do in return.”
As they spoke, Evie was already searching through one of the books. She flipped rapidly through the contents. Finally, she settled on a page and called us over to look.
It was a family portrait of five Foster witches, dated 1925. Four years before the Great War. It was a typical family of five, with a mother, father, and three children. All with black hair and pale skin. The husband and wife looked like they could be brother and sister. From what the Devereux’s had said about inbreeding in the ancient families, they possibly were.
I shuddered at the thought. No wonder they all looked so miserable in the photo.
Sure enough, the witches in the portrait had a similar look to the one who’d attended Flint and Mara’s mating ceremony. The woman at the ceremony was in her twenties—younger than the mother in the portrait and older than the children. But it was like looking at a picture of what she would look like in twenty years, or what she would have looked like as a child. The resemblance was uncanny.
Bella looked back and forth between the photo in the book and the one on the screen. “If that woman at the ceremony isn’t a Foster witch, then I’ll never drink another martini again,” she said.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Amber was trying to joke, but concern was rising in her tone.
Hope spread through my chest at the realization that we were onto something. “It sounds like you all have more research to do regarding the Foster witches,” I said. “In the meantime, we don’t know what the demons have planned for Raven—and all those other humans—in that bunker. So it’s time we get them out of there before we find out.”
Raven
Five days.
That was my first thought when the bugle woke me up that morning.
Each day that passed, I wondered if it would finally be the day Noah broke in and rescued me. I continued to message him every day, telling him not just my location and details about the bunker, but other facts about day-to-day life here. I wanted to give him anything that might prove helpful.
He had yet to reply to my messages. But Donna had promised me he was receiving them. Her Magic 8-Ball gift didn’t lie.
Even if she were lying, Jessica would be able to detect it.
I wished I knew why he wasn’t replying. Unfortunately, no one in the bunker had a gift that could help me out there. So I’d just have to wait until Noah and I were together again to ask him myself.
In good news, Donna had been able to tell me that my mom was still alive. That and knowing that Noah was receiving my messages were the only things keeping me going right now.
Every muscle in my body hurt as I got out of bed and trudged to breakfast. The workout routine Dr. Foster had given me was brutal, and the demons insisted I follow it exactly.
I was so sore that even sitting down to use the toilet was painful.
Breakfast was the typical fare of oatmeal, fruit, and orange juice. I stirred the oatmeal around and glared at it. I didn’t want to eat another bite of oatmeal again in my life. But that wasn’t an option right now, so I forced it down. Everyone else in the dining hall did the same.
We were one beaten, depressed group.
As the meal was ending, Marco approached our table.
I looked down at my empty bowl. Hopefully I hadn’t done something wrong. All I had left was one piece of fruit and a few sips of orange juice. I was on track to finish my meal with everyone else.
But the demon guard wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Jessica.
“Number thirty-five,” Marco addressed Jessica. “The doctor has declared you ready for the next location.”
All of the color drained from Jessica’s face. “No,” she said, holding onto the edges of her seat. “I won’t go.”
“You’d rather stay here?” Marco chuckled.
“The next location is worse than here
,” she said hollowly.
“Who told you that?” he asked.
“You did… by never saying otherwise,” she said. “You’ve been lying by omission. Tell me the next location isn’t worse than this. Tell me, and I’ll know if you’re telling the truth.”
“You might be able to detect lies.” Marco sneered. “But it doesn’t stop you from saying them yourself.”
“I’m not lying.” Jessica raised her voice so everyone in the dining hall could hear. “The next location is worse than here. You’re getting us in shape, feeding us well… for what?”
He raised a hand and slapped her hard on the cheek, knocking her out of her chair. The sound of it echoed through the room.
She tumbled onto the ground and stared up at him in terror.
He raised his fist again to do more, and I couldn’t help myself. I was up out of my seat, trying to push him away from her before I could think twice about it.
He slapped me to the ground beside her before I could blink.
“Have a big head because you were traveling with supernaturals before coming here, don’t you?” he asked mockingly.
I glared up at him, saying nothing.
“You might have supernatural friends, but they’re not here to protect you now.” He smiled, and his pointed demonic teeth flashed beneath his glamour. “You’re just a human. Forget your place again, and you’ll get a lot worse than a slap.”
“He’s lying,” Jessica whispered. “They can’t hurt us too much. They need us in good condition for the next location.”
“Enough from you.” Marco yanked Jessica up from the floor and dragged her toward the door. He stopped a moment before leaving and turned back to face us, holding her firmly in place. “The next location is better than here,” he said, projecting so everyone in the dining hall could hear him. “But to get there, you need to be useful. So finish your meals. You’re going to need it.”
Noah
To best keep tabs on what was going on in the bunker, we’d adjusted our schedule to Nebraska time instead of California time.
Now I was in the living room with the witches, watching the bunker security cameras as the demon guard slapped Raven to the floor at the end of their breakfast.
Without audio, it was impossible to know what they were saying. But something was happening to the teenage girl Raven had befriended. Raven was trying to stand up for her.
As I watched, I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug through my skin.
Not being able to help Raven was killing me. I wished I could communicate with her through the imprint bond like she could with me, but it was impossible. Every time I tried, it was like hitting a brick wall.
I was still staring at the screen, seething about not being able to jump right there and ram my slicer through the demon guard’s heart, when Thomas entered the room.
He had his phone in hand. “I just finished talking with Shivani from the Haven,” he said. “They’re on board with the plan. Once our part is done, I’ll give them another call and they’ll drop in to help us from there.”
I nodded, glad that Shivani wanted to help. She’d been my witch contact at the Haven when I was working to create peace between the wolves and vampires of the Vale. She’d always struck me as reasonable.
At the same time, I never trusted when things worked out too smoothly.
Especially since the last time I’d done that, Azazel had abducted Raven and Sage.
“That took less time than expected,” I said.
“The Haven is curious about why the demons are so interested in these particular humans,” Thomas said. “They see this as an opportunity to gather information that might help us win this war.”
“Perfect.” Bella rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “When are we heading out?”
“All of the humans will be in the dining hall for lunch for forty-five minutes,” I said, since that was the plan—we’d strike when the humans were all together. That only happened during meals. Thanks to the demons’ nocturnal schedule, lunch started at midnight. Since Thomas couldn’t risk being weakened due to sunlight exposure, it made the most sense for us to strike then. “So we need to start preparing now.”
Jessica
Marco was so much stronger than me that fighting against him was futile. But it didn’t stop me from trying.
If he was going to drag me out of here kicking and screaming, then so be it.
Turned out he didn’t actually have to drag me. We’d barely made it into the hall of the bunker when he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.
“No!” I screamed, hitting him as hard as I could in the back. He didn’t even flinch. “You won’t get away with this.”
“I have, and I will,” he said, tightening his hold around my waist. “Stop screaming. No one’s going to hear you. At least, no one who can save you.”
I automatically knew he was telling the truth. That was how my gift worked—someone spoke, and I knew if it was a truth or a lie. Knowing was as natural to me as breathing.
He walked to the end of the hall, where there was one door that was bigger than the others. The exit. At least, I’d always assumed it was the exit. I’d never seen anyone enter or exit from it, so there was no way to know for sure.
He only needed to use one arm to hold me up. He used the other to open the door. It led to a staircase, with another big heavy door at the top. He pushed through that door and carried me into the foyer of what looked like a deceptively normal country house. It was hard to see from the angle I was thrown over his shoulder, but I could make out another staircase, and a dining room in front of me.
“Help!” I screamed, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try again. “Someone, please help!”
“What didn’t you understand about ‘no one’s going to help you?’” Marco grumbled.
I screamed again and hit him again, mustering up as much force as possible behind the punch. I kicked my legs too, hoping to get him in the face.
He just squeezed me tighter—so tight I could barely breathe, let alone scream.
Cold terror rushed through my veins as he carried me up the stairs.
Was this it? Was he going to kill me?
No, I thought, shaking the thought out of my head. If the demons wanted us dead, we would have already been dead. Why would they have gone through so much trouble to get us healthy and in good physical shape if they were just going to kill us?
“Are you going to kill me?” I asked.
“No,” he answered. “I’m not going to kill you.”
He was telling the truth.
Okay. This was good.
As long as I was alive, there was still a chance I could get away from all of this. There was still a chance I could get back home and see my parents and brother again.
“Natasha! Dimitri!” Marco called as he walked through the upstairs hall. “One of the humans is ready for you.”
One of the doors opened, followed by the other. A woman with unbrushed, dark-blonde hair stood in one, wearing pajamas. A man who looked like her—likely her brother—stood in the other.
“My turn,” the woman said in a distinctly Russian accent, looking over at the man in challenge. “You had the last one.”
The man eyed me up. “This one looks small,” he said to Marco in the same accent as the woman. “Are you sure she’s ready?”
“She’s young, but she’s healthy,” Marco said. “The doctor said it’s time.”
“Why not wait until she’s older?” The woman stepped forward and reached for my chin, holding onto my face and studying me. Her skin was surprisingly cold. “She doesn’t look a day over fourteen.”
“I’m sixteen,” I told her, staring straight into her eyes.
Whenever I looked at one of the demons for long enough, I got a glimpse of the true red color of their eyes. But this woman’s—Natasha’s—light blue eyes remained the same color.
She wasn’t a demon.
Hope surged through my c
hest. Maybe she’d be able to help me.
“Better than fourteen.” She gave an approving nod and let go of my face, dropping her arm back to her side.
“Better for what?” I asked.
Marco spoke up before she could answer. “Be careful what you say around this one,” he warned. “She’s a human lie detector. That’s her gift.”
Natasha licked her lips, her eyes glimmering with interest. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she said.
Marco heaved a sigh and continued forward.
Given my uncomfortable perch over his shoulder, I could only see behind him. But I heard the click as he opened another door. He walked us up another set of stairs, and Natasha and Dimitri followed behind us.
Once we were upstairs, Marco dropped me down onto a bed. It was a twin bed in a sparsely furnished attic. The roof slanted up to meet in the middle, and there were only two small windows—one on each end of the room. Both had the shades drawn.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Marco said to the siblings. “Let me know once it’s done so I can call Lavinia.”
Natasha nodded and stood straight, looking at Marco. “Soon he will rise,” she said, her tone dark and serious.
“Soon he will rise,” Marco repeated in the same mysterious tone.
The demon turned around and left the attic, leaving me alone with Natasha and Dimitri. They both watched me with sharp, hawk-like eyes.
Dread settled into my gut. I wasn’t sure why I’d thought there was a chance they might help me. They might not be demons, but they were obviously working with them.
I eyed up the door. Part of me wanted to make a run for it. But where would I go? According to Kara, we were in the middle of nowhere. Even if I got out of this house, I couldn’t outrun the demons. Maybe I could hide from them. But they had a supernatural sense of smell. They’d find me like a bloodhound on a deer.
Trying to get on the good side of these people—Natasha and Dimitri—was my only option. At least they weren’t demons.
The Angel Gift (Dark World: The Angel Trials Book 4) Page 13